“Get your fucking hands off her,” I growl.
The words come out low. Controlled.
But there’s nothing calm about what’s underneath them.
The guy turns, startled.
Hilary’s eyes go wide.
And suddenly—every decision I’ve been avoiding?
Every line I told myself I wouldn’t cross?
Gone.
Because the second someone puts their hands on her—I don’t think.
I act.
And that?
That might be the biggest problem of all.
Chapter Ten
Hilary
As I walk to work this morning, I get that feeling.
You know the one.
Like someone’s watching you.
I tell myself it’s stupid.
This is Hammonton. The most dangerous thing here is Mrs. Delaney’s opinions about hardcover pricing.
Still, I glance over my shoulder once.
Nothing.
Just the bakery opening up and a guy walking his golden retriever.
It’s been two days since David stopped by the shop.
Two days since he told me about the Rugby Championship theme song.
Two days since he looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
I am thrilled for him.
I am.
Even if it means he’ll be leaving.
Which, let’s be honest, of course he will.
Superstars don’t relocate to small Jersey towns for the long haul.