Devoured

From what I manage to piece together, this is the second hearing. The new purchaser, whom I’ve decided to refer to as Asshat and his lawyers are both here, and they’re seeking a formal eviction. My grandmother and her attorney Mr. Nielson (the same one she’s had since before I can remember) are across from them on the left side of the room. I find myself glaring death rays at Asshat’s back, even though I know I shouldn’t really be angry at him.

Just like I shouldn’t be checking him out.

His back is turned to me, so there’s a depressing limit to what I’m able to ogle, but I know that he’s built. And with a backside like his, the rest of him is bound to be just as gorgeous. Dressed in an impeccable black business suit that molds a little too perfectly to every inch of his body, he’s got dark, tousled hair that brushes his neck and long fingers. He taps them rapidly in some type of rhythm on the mahogany table that’s in front of him. I’m tall, but this guy towers over me by a good six inches—he’s easily 6’3” or 6’4”. And his ass . . . ugh, I bet the last thousand dollars in my account (and would even overdraw it a few hundred bucks) that the attorney beside him would be staring at it too if she could get away with it. Or if she could stop beaming up at him with her chest poked out for longer than five seconds.

Hot-faced and utterly reluctant, I drag my gaze back to Gram’s side of the courtroom. If Seth catches me staring at Asshat, he’ll never let me live it down. Knowing him, he’ll probably accuse me of conspiring with the enemy.

I frown, because I know that’s exactly what Seth would say.

“Mr. Nielson, your client has ten days before the court issues a possession order,” the judge is telling my grandmother’s lawyer. “After that, the sheriff will carry out the eviction within a week.” When my grandmother’s shoulders sag and she grips Nielson’s shoulder for support so hard her knuckles turn white, it takes every ounce of my willpower not to bolt out of my seat. I hate this. I hate my mother for this, because at the heart of things, it really is all her fault.

I was right when I assumed she’d done something stupid. Mom’s the reason my grandmother is losing her home.

And then, the hearing is over. Gram’s bright blue eyes widen in stunned surprise as she makes her way to the back of the room toward me and Seth, but then her face softens. She gives me a sad smile that’s full of defeat. I’ve only seen her look at me like this once before. There’s a sour taste in my mouth when I realize it was in this exact courthouse. Before Gram has a chance to utter a single word, I pull her to me and bury my face into her puff of gray hair, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla.

“Did you drive?” I ask. She nods into my shoulder, so I say, “I’ll take you back home then.” I loosen my grip around her, glaring over my shoulder at Asshat. Now, his back is no longer turned to me. Instead, I have a side view that’s just as nauseatingly sexy as the back.

He’s speaking to his female attorney, and they’re both laughing. She’s got her hand on his arm and her boobs are still jutted out. If we were anywhere else I’d discreetly snort aloud at how ridiculous she looks. He’s probably thanking her. And she’s more than likely suggesting they celebrate the easy win against an old woman and her equally ancient lawyer over drinks and then a quick screw at her place. I’m about to draw away from Gram and leave the courtroom when the man turns his face, lifts his eyes. Our gazes connect. Hazel and blue.

Predator and prey.

He squints at me.

My chest seizes up. I was right, the full package is devastatingly handsome. And when I decided to nickname him “Asshat,” I was being much too lenient.

I pray my grandmother doesn’t feel the change in my heartbeat, the sudden hitch in the way that I’m breathing. This exchange between Asshat and me isn’t one of those love-at-first site moments—no, it’s nothing like that. This is one of those moments where fate has roundhouse kicked me in the face yet again. Why is he here in Nashville? In the same courtroom as me?

God, please don’t let him remember me.

For a moment, I’m sure he has no clue who I am, that he’ll go back to chatting it up with Boobs McBeal. By now there would’ve been tens, hundreds, of other girls. I’m nothing to him. I’m the weirdo, I tell myself.

But then, a slow, animalistic smile of realization stretches across Lucas Wolfe’s face.

It makes me feel like he’ll devour me whole at any second.

It’s also the exact same grin he gave me two years ago, right after I refused to let him cuff me to his bed, and just before he literally told me to get the f**k out of his house.

CHAPTER TWO

Seth bails on us the moment we reach the bottom step of the courthouse—he swears he’s got a late afternoon class, but I’m positive that’s total bull. He’s probably just going to drink away his worries. I don’t confirm my suspicions as our grandmother speaks to him, thanking him for being there for her.

A razor sharp sensation scrapes the wall of my chest as I once again try to come to terms with the fact Seth knew more about what was going on with Gram than I did. Standing by myself a few feet away from them with snowflakes melting the second they kiss my skin, I feel left out—literally like the redheaded step child. As quick as the thought entered my head, I squash it down. What am I, a jealous ten year old?

My brother waves goodbye to me before he takes off in a graceful sprint toward the parking garage where he left the Dodge.

Smiling up at me with a grace and fortitude I’ve always been envious of, my grandmother jangles the keys to her ancient black Land Rover in my palm and closes my fist around them.