Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(85)

“No, I went to private school.” A pause. “And I graduated.”

Aaron cleared the relief from his throat. “In my experience, students sneak into their own high school at night to set up pranks or make out. So if you’re not a student, we can rule that out.” He held up his fingers and began ticking them off. “Are you a journalist? Maybe setting up a hidden microphone to catch a politician off guard at tomorrow’s event?”

“Yes. That’s what I was doing.”

“Ah,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “See, your agreement was too quick.”

A long sigh came from the shadows. “Are you a lawyer?”

Aaron reached for the knot of his tie to adjust it before remembering he wore only a T-shirt. “I went to law school—”

“Politician?”

“Of a sort,” Aaron hedged. “But you’re changing the subject.”

“You must know all about that.”

Old Man growled at Aaron again, but the girl reached over and placed a hand on the dog’s head, quieting him. Aaron curled his lip at his pet, wondering when the hell his famous canine loyalty was supposed to kick in. “Listen, I really don’t want to report you.”

“But you will?”

Would he? The high school gymnasium would be filled with politicians, voters, and media tomorrow. Despite his gut feeling to the contrary, she could very well have an agenda that included setting the place on fire. Stranger things had happened than someone using a political event to make a statement for their cause. Still, he couldn’t connect that particular dot to this girl. Even without having gotten a decent look at her face. “I don’t know.”

She was silent for long moments. “Really?” Her tone was laced with surprise. “When was the last time you said those words?”

“I don’t know?” He searched his brain. “I don’t know.”

Her laughter almost pulled him headfirst into the darkness. It hadn’t sounded sad or solemn that time. And he liked it better the second way. “I can…” Now she sounded almost shy. How often were they going to switch gears here? “I can owe you a favor. If you just pretend we didn’t meet.”

Fuck that. The words very nearly left his mouth on a shout. He couldn’t find a way for his unspoken denial to make sense, but he really didn’t feel like pretending this encounter hadn’t happened. Another hour or so in the forest and he would have the frostbite to prove it. Maybe he’d already succumbed to the initial stages of delirium, because he was placing way too much importance on this interaction. He needed to get out of there and gear up for tomorrow. Tomorrow was what mattered. “Look, forget it.” He signaled to Old Man, as if that was going to work. “There’s nothing you can offer that would help me. Just…” Discomfort invaded his throat. “This never happened.”

Walking away felt distinctly shitty, but what else could he do? Stand in the freezing-cold woods in a T-shirt with a spiteful dog and a probable anarchist for another hour?

“Wait.”

Aaron turned at the sound of footsteps jogging up behind him. And then he just stared. Her face fully exposed now in the moonlight, the girl blinked up at him with vivid green eyes, that wild hair blowing around her shoulders. His stomach dipped like a ladle into a boiling pot of soup and hung there, the forest feeling stiller than death around him. Anything would feel still, so close to so much—life. Go back to the cabin. Or wake up from this bizarre dream. Just do something before you go completely insane. “What am I waiting for?”

“Me,” she whispered, before squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. “I mean, I asked you to wait. I can help you.”

“How do you know I need help?”

She looked almost perplexed by his question. “We all need help.”

Why couldn’t he get his stomach to stop twisting and diving? “Not me.”

“No?” She broke his stare to gaze out at their surroundings. “You were out here for a reason, too. What was it?”

“I don’t know anymore,” he murmured.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said it now.” Her smile revealed her teeth, the two overlapping ones up top, dead center. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Jesus, he almost said I don’t know a fifth time. “I need to get into that pancake event tomorrow morning. I doubt you can help me with that, so—”

“I can, actually,” she said, arching a cocky eyebrow.

“Really.” He doused the flicker of hope. “Through a window, I assume?”

When she shook her head, braids and curls and ribbons rioted everywhere. “I’ll walk you right past security through the back door.”

“Not the front one?”

Another flash of those imperfect teeth. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

That husky tone of voice was back, and it flexed his abdomen muscles, compelling him forward a step, where he could look down into her uniquely pretty face. “My name is Aaron. And I never beg.”

“My name is Grace.” A deep breath, a step back. Away from him. “And I know better than to ever say never.”

Aaron stood at the edge of the woods, watching as Grace slipped around the building outcropping and into the darkness, still convinced he was dreaming. Until he felt a warm, liquid sensation on his right foot, and found Old Man pissing on his favorite pair of loafers.