Page 217 of Beautiful Venom
“You can’t cook to save your life.”
“Wow, rude.” I pout. “I found a snow shovel in the garage. I’ll shovel the driveway.”
“All right. Be careful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I salute and head back to the garage armed with a thick coat.
It’s full of some DIY stuff, tools, an old lawn mower, and a sharp-looking axe.
I put on some gloves, then drag it outside and bend down to tie my shoes.
As I’m standing up from my kneeling position, the sun gets blocked by a large cloud.
Wait. It’s not completely blocked.
I shield my eyes as I look up.
It’s definitely not a cloud.
The sight of him is like an electric shot to my heart.
“I like the position, wildflower.”
38
DAHLIA
Ispent the last couple of days hating, cursing, and metaphorically stabbing a voodoo doll with Kane Davenport’s face all over it.
It got so bad that I momentarily thought of going back and punching him in the face or doing something more drastic like breaking either his arm or his leg so he could kiss his beloved hockey career goodbye.
That urge was mounting when I got in touch with Megan on my new phone and she sent me pictures of the Vipers’ latest win and said I missed an ‘amazing’ game.
He can still play amazing games, so maybe I should ruin his final college season.
Maybe I let him off the hook too easily and should have hurt him as badly as he tore me apart.
I should have burrowed so deep beneath his skin that he’d be tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, his head only full of thoughts of me. I should’ve made him so attached to me that life without my presence feels bland and tasteless.
Because that’s how it’s felt for me lately, no matter how tough I tried to act.
But now, I won’t get the chance to act on my promises, because he’s come here of his own volition.
Asking for it.
I jump up, storm back to the garage, and reach for the axe, my hand shaking around the chipped wooden handle as I rush back outside.
“Are you going to stab me with that?” he asks nonchalantly.
It pisses me off.
How could he still look absolutely gorgeous in a brown wool coat, dark denim jeans, and a beige cardigan? His hair is styled back, his face is covered with a light stubble, and those eyes…icy, cool, and downright provocative.
Why isn’thea mess?
How can he besoput together?
“I told you I’d kill you if I saw you again.” I point the axe at him. “Don’t blame me for your chopped-off arm.”
