What Belongs to Her. Rachel Brimble
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sat in strained silence as the ride took its merry time grinding to a halt. When it finally stopped, she leaned over and expertly released the mechanism locking the lap bar into place. She shoved it upward, heedless of the fact he still gripped it. When his shoulders audibly clicked with the force of his arms almost leaving their sockets, she grimaced again.
“Sorry.” She jumped from the ride and stormed toward the steps.
“Hey,” Freddy shouted behind her.
God damn it. She turned. “What?”
He lumbered toward her. “What? Is that all you have to say?”
Heat pinched her cheeks. She’d acted recklessly. Anything could’ve happened. She and John could have been stuck on there. The circuit could’ve caught fire. She closed her eyes. “Just leave it, Freddy.”
“What in God’s name were you thinking?”
“She wasn’t thinking, but that’s my problem, not yours.”
Sasha snapped her eyes open. John stood toe-to-toe with Freddy, their eyes locked in silent battle. Her heartbeat pulsed in her temple as the two of them faced off. She abhorred violence and hated anything remotely nasty or tainted. Why did things suddenly feel so much worse than they had since Kyle was locked up? Why had she started a fight with his son instead of playing nice and seeing what happened?
She cleared her throat. “Look, Freddy’s right. I shouldn’t have started the ride with no one controlling it. I was mad, and it was stupid.”
After a few seconds, John nodded, his eyes still on Freddy. “There you go. She’s sorry. Let’s leave it at that. Sasha and I have somewhere to go this morning, so I want you to get the staff organized for opening this afternoon. Okay?”
Sasha stared. Going somewhere? Together? Alone? “Where?”
John glanced at her. “Just a minute.” He turned to Freddy. “Okay?”
Freddy looked from him to Sasha, his suppressed anger showing in the reddening of his cheeks and inflating veins on his bald head. “Okay. I’ll see you when I damn well see you then.”
He flung a final scowl at her and John before stalking back toward the office. Sasha turned. John stared at her, his face a mask of angry determination. She swallowed. Her impetuous nature had once more turned around and bitten her in the ass.
“Well?” She forced her gaze to stay on his. “Where are we going?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
He released his crossed arms and closed the space between them. Standing at around six foot two, he towered above her five foot six.
His gaze traveled over her face. “I don’t know anyone in this town. I don’t know about any competition, tension or who the hell Kyle’s enemies are. I need to know who, apart from you, is willing to pay good money to see me gone from Templeton before I’ve even had the chance for a cup of coffee in the local coffee shop. I want to know what I’m dealing with. You’re the person to help me with that.”
Unease rippled through her. “Why do you think I know Kyle’s enemies?”
“You’ve worked here longer than anyone. You must know what he used this place for.”
Revulsion swept a bitter taste into her throat. “I turn a blind eye to all that as much as possible. I hate what Kyle does. Hate it. I work here as manager only.”
“You really expect me to believe that?” He shook his head. “I don’t trust anyone with a connection to my father. That, unfortunately, includes you.”
“How dare you.”
He stared deep into her eyes for a moment before glancing over her head, his jaw tight. Sasha’s stomach knotted with traitorous attraction. God, he looked like a model standing there, all dangerous and brooding....
He narrowed his eyes. “I dare, because it’s beyond me how someone can claim to love something so much, but manage to tolerate a man who stepped on and then abandoned people whenever he wanted.” His eyes were an icy blue. “Who are you, Sasha? That’s what I want to know.”
He turned away, and she gripped his arm. “Wait.”
Anger seemed to burn from his skin, hot enough to scald her fingers through his jacket. Her hand slipped from his arm. A surge of unexpected sympathy rose behind her rib cage, and she quickly shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
He nodded stiffly before storming toward the office. Sasha remained welded to the grass. When he was out of sight, she released her held breath and slumped. Now what? She didn’t want to be alone with him. That had never been part of the bargain. The frustration in his eyes from a moment before seeped into her conscience and lingered there, screaming with warning.
She sensed a pain as deep as hers in John...and that scared her. It took all her energy to fight the demons of her past and keep moving forward each day. She didn’t need the pull of caring about someone else. Especially not Kyle’s son, when it was Kyle who had unwittingly stopped her from bringing closure to her pain. Stopped her from winning a fifteen-year-old battle with Matt Davidson, the man who’d brought an end to her short-lived childhood.
She closed her eyes and her molester’s face taunted her from behind closed lids. In a single summer, his actions had tainted the fair and tarnished what Sasha held dear. Well, sooner or later she’d make it hers and she’d make it a good, clean place for all its future visitors. She’d make it a magical, fun-filled adventure, as it had been before him, before everything he made her do.
Opening her eyes, Sasha exhaled a shaky breath and strode toward the office.
CHAPTER FIVE
SASHA FOLLOWED JOHN into the graveled parking lot outside the Funland gates with her chin high and her decorum well and truly restored. She’d grabbed her bag from the office while John gave a glowering Freddy a few instructions. The lack of information about their intended destination had infuriated her equally as much as a spitting and angry Freddy.
Her gaze wandered and then stuck to John’s back as he marched ahead of her to his car. The temperature had risen and hovered at a pleasant eighty degrees. He’d removed his jacket and his broad, muscular back and strong shoulders shifted rhythmically beneath cotton as he strode forward. The guy’s butt didn’t look any worse in trousers than it did in denim—which initiated another tug on her already fraught nerves. Nerves that seemed constantly pooled in her damn panties.
He stopped beside a metallic blue Mercedes convertible and pointed his keys. Sasha stared in awed fascination as the roof slowly rolled backward into the open trunk with smooth, expensive precision. The cost of his car alone would probably keep her in rent payments for the remainder of the decade. She lifted her chin higher. His wealth wouldn’t intimidate her. No doubt Kyle had kept his son well-cared for over the years. There was no pride in handouts as far as she was concerned.
When he walked to the passenger side rather than the driver’s, her gait faltered. What was he doing? He opened the door and waved toward the seat. Sasha narrowed her eyes. If he thought a show of old-fashioned gallantry would penetrate her immovable anger, he’d better think again.
Yeah? So why are your cheeks hot and your stomach flying into a frenzy?
Forcing her eyes to his, she smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She slid onto butter-soft leather, and the door closed with a gentle, moneyed clunk. He walked around the hood and slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. “So...” He turned on the ignition and the car purred to life. “Where are we headed first?”
Deciding she needed to up her game, Sasha pulled on her femme-fatale persona and faced him. Whether or not she was letting down the entire female population, she had to at least attempt to get John off his