Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
REBEL
Act like everything’s okay. Act like everything’s okay.
The phrase pounds like a drumbeat in my head as I run straight to Gunner.
His look of utter confusion should have been enough warning to stop, to get ahold of myself.
But I’m not thinking straight.
My body is on autopilot and my mind is still stuck in that boardroom. Disappointment cuts me to the quick and I feel lower than dirt.
But what does it matter? I got the donation, didn’t I? I won, didn’t I? Marjorie White and the other ladies are going to guarantee my seat on the Society, aren’t they?
My entire life, I’ve heard the same thing:
“There are worse things than being pretty, Rebel.”
“Oh? No one listens to you because you’re so pretty?”
“Oh poor, pretty Rebel. Life must be so hard for you, huh?”
No one will fully understand why this morning hurt me so much. No one, except April, will really care anyway.
Why bother explaining to them?
Why waste my breath?
It’s better if I don’t break down in front of them, better if I brush it off and act like the painful words and the cold dismissals don’t leave a dent. At least that way, I won’t be judged or told I’m superficial for wishing the world would take me seriously.
At least then, I can tell myself that they’re right. That it’s okay to be ignored, talked over, and misjudged because of other people’s assumptions.
It’s okay.
Everything’s okay.
Even if it’s not, I’m too pretty to be sad or upset—at least, that’s what I’ve been told.
So I wrap my arms around the neck of a blue-eyed hockey player who hates me.
I pull his lips to mine and I seal it with a kiss.
This is the script I wrote for myself.
Rebel Hart and Gunner Kinsey. This is the lie people need to believe.
Is Benji watching?
I keep my lips pressed to Gunner’s. Lifelessly, I go through the motions of the kiss and hope it’s convincing enough. The best thing I can do right now is prove to Benji that I’m in a happy, committed relationship.
At least, if I have a boyfriend, he’ll finally back off and I won’t have to bear the humiliation of being the girl ‘for sale’.
Gunner’s grip on my hip tightens and he nudges me back an inch. As he pushes me away, embarrassment snatches the courage from under my feet.
My good sense returns.
What the heck am I doing?
Panic roars louder than an overheating engine and I look up at Gunner, noticing the storm in his pale blue eyes.
Is he angry?
I wince and hang my head, preparing to step back.
But Gunner stops me by framing his large hands on my face and lifting my chin. His lips descend on mine tenderly.
No chaos.
No wild, untamed emotions.
It’s so, so gentle that I can barely breathe.
His mouth cups mine like a quiet symphony, as if he’s tasting my pain and heartache. A rough, calloused thumb brushes across my cheek, soothing me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
You matter is what his kiss whispers to me. You matter, Rebel.
I might be completely delusional and reading way more into the kiss than is really there, but something inside me releases. A tear rolls down my cheek.
Before I’m ready, Gunner pulls away and wraps me in a protective hug. I melt into his massive body, clinging to him while his tree-trunk arms and brawny chest completely block out the world.
“Rebel,” Benji’s voice seeps in from somewhere beyond the warm cocoon.
“We’re leaving,” Gunner announces in his deep, intimidating voice. I feel the rumble of his words travel from his chest.
“But, I need to talk to…”
I glance up and see Gunner skewering Benji with a glare that could fillet a fish on the grill. The other man clamps his mouth shut.
My composure restored, I inhale a deep breath and turn to Benji.
In a blink, I flick my smile ‘ON’. “Sorry, Benji. Now’s not a good time. My boyfriend just came back home, so I can’t talk now.”
Benji swallows hard. “Rebel, I know what you’re doing. I know my dad made things weird. Just five minutes. I only need five?—”
“We can meet up later,” I clip.
Gunner makes a growly sound in protest.
I ignore that and glance at April. “Do you mind if I…”
“Go.”
I smile gratefully.
The man at April’s side looks at me with concern.
I nod at him. “Welcome back, Chance.”
He smiles slightly.
I throw a wave at Cordelia who’s been ducking behind the hood of a truck for the entire conversation.
Satisfied that I’m giving the best performance of my life, I keep my smile in place and tug Gunner out of the garage.
Sunshine warms the top of my head and forces me to squint. Cars zip by, carrying normal people living their normal lives to normal destinations. Despite how tumultuous the past five hours have been, it calms me to see that the world is still turning. The sky isn’t falling. I’ll be okay.
I feel a presence beside me and then Gunner rumbles, “Where’s your truck?”
“Why?”
“Keys.” He holds out a hand.
I frown, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood to argue and, since I did spring a kiss on him without permission, I figure it’s fair to let him grunt and growl and throw his weight around. Just this once.
Gunner accepts my keys and surprises me by setting his hand on the small of my back. The air rushes from my lungs as he guides me to my car and opens the door for me. I recall that he did the same thing after we left the game together that night.
After I settle in, he jogs around the truck to the driver’s side. The entire car rocks when he folds his giant body into the driver’s seat.
Gunner drives in total silence. I twist my bracelet around and around on my wrist, unsure of what to say to him. He ignored me before he left for the playoffs, and it spoke volumes. He literally can’t stand the sight of me.
And yet…
I kissed him in front of his team captain and Benji.
If the roles were reversed, and someone I despised put his lips on me without permission, I’d be furious.
I’d probably even sue.
Nerves tighten in my stomach. What if Gunner tries to sue me for harassment?
I imagine getting carted off to the station by Gunner’s father.
He did kiss me back though. And he even hugged me.
So… is he angry about the kiss or not?
I stare at the side of Gunner’s face, watching his jaw clench and unclench. What on earth is this man thinking? I’d drain my bank account to know.
Gunner swings the car into the parking lot of the grocery store and hops out. I scramble to open my door too, but he’s already ten steps ahead of me and disappearing inside the building. It seems he doesn’t require my assistance.
As I wait, I take out my phone and see messages from Marjorie White.
MARJORIE: Rodney Howard’s office just called asking for the bank account of the Lady Luck Society.
MARJORIE: Rodney Howard will send the money next week.
MARJORIE: Our next Society meeting is in three days.
My stomach roils and I quickly shut my phone off and turn it face down.
The creaking of the driver’s side door alerts me to Gunner’s return. He tosses the plastic bag into the back seat before I can take a peek at what he bought.
We drive some more, following the road that leads to the Kinsey farm.
My stomach twists into knots. I don’t want to go one-on-one with Carol Kinsey right now. But Gunner doesn’t turn into his parents’ driveway and keeps going through the orchard and toward a familiar route.
“Are we going to the treehouse?” I ask him, my heart beating wildly.
Gunner stops the car. “We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”
I guess that’s a ‘yes’.
Throwing my door open, I prepare to jump out of the truck when Gunner appears in front of me. My heart stops beating when he bends a knee and takes my foot in his hands. His thumb brushes my ankle and a consuming heat zings straight to my heart.
I watch his shoulders, ripped with muscles, tighten as he hesitates for a second and then he slowly pulls my heels off. His eyes skip over my pink polished toenails before he sets the heels aside.
Next, Gunner reaches for something in the grocery bag and pulls out the softest pair of pink slippers I’ve ever seen. My nerves stretch tight as he adorns my feet with the slippers.
“Who was it?” Gunner asks in a dark voice.
I startle.
“Who made you so upset you couldn’t drive back?”
“Why? Are you going to fight them?”
“Maybe.” His eyes are hard as marbles and I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that he’ll drive all the way to the city to avenge me.
I lean forward, setting my hand on his shoulder. “No one bothered me.”
“If they touched you…” His fingers curl into fists.
“They didn’t. It wasn’t like that. I swear.”
He looks up, his blue eyes burning into me.
The tension between us snaps and crackles like an engine consuming fuel.
Does he hate me or not?
Do I hate him or not?
Nothing Gunner Kinsey does makes sense. Nothing that I feel when I’m around him makes sense either.
A blush inches across my face the longer he stares at me. To hide the reaction, I hop out of the car but, since Gunner is still kneeling and he’s a giant of a man, that puts us at the same height.
We’re a breath away from each other.
His lips are close.
Too close.
Because of our kisses—two and counting now—I’m hyper aware of his mouth and how soft it felt against mine.
Not that I care.
Not that it will happen again.
Gunner closes the gap between us, his eyes steady on me.
My heart ricochets with nerves, but I don’t step back.
I don’t cover my mouth this time either.
As he leans in, I lean forward just an inch and, to my surprise, Gunner freezes abruptly.
My eyebrows hike in a what?
His eyes slide down my face like a caress and then his lips tug up in a smirk. A moment later, he reaches for something behind me and pulls out my laptop bag. Then he stands to his full height.
Horrified, I step away from him, my skin buzzing as if he’d actually kissed me. “Why are you taking my laptop?”
“I want to hear it.”
“Hear what?”
He hands me the laptop and tilts his head slightly. “Your presentation.”