Devoured: A Novel(4)

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*ck 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.

She pulls an umbrella out of her bag and opens it. “Richard wants me to come to his office for a strategy meeting. I’m sure you don’t want to waste your time in a boring meeting with an attorney.”

I may not return home nearly as often as I should, but I know my grandmother better than just about anyone else. This is her way of telling me she doesn’t want me around for whatever she and Nielson have to say to each other.

She doesn’t want me involved.

My muscles tighten. I purse my lips into what I hope passes for a good-natured expression. “Sure. I’ll just”—I squint at my surroundings until my eyes land on a two-story café directly across the street from Nielson’s office and the courthouse—“go grab something to eat over at Alice’s. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”