 
# Banish My Heart

### Book 1 in The Grimm Laws Series

## Jennifer Youngblood

## Sandra Poole

### Contents

Foreword by Kimberley Montpetit

Introduction by Cami Checketts

Our Gift to You

Prologue

1. The Stranger in the Mirror

2. The Kiss

3. The Horrid Stepsister

4. Adele

5. The Forgotten Girl

6. Alexander and Wisteria

7. Frenemies

8. The Job

9. The Roof

10. The White Chocolate Truffles

11. The New English Teacher

12. The Band

13. The Chocolate Fountain

14. The Sting of Betrayal

15. The Bike Wreck

16. Giving Up

17. Griselda

18. Turning Over a New Leaf

A Note from the Authors

Excerpt of The Magic in Me (The Next Book in the Grimm Laws Series)

Excerpt of The Neighbor's Secret by Kimberley Montpetit

Excerpt of Rescue My Heart by Christine Kersey

About Jennifer Youngblood & Sandra Poole

Also by Jennifer Youngblood & Sandra Poole
Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Youngblood

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Visit Jennifer's blog at jenniferyoungblood.com

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**** NOTE** This edition is a revised edition of the first half of the book _Banished_ , copyrighted 2015 by Jennifer Youngblood and Sandra Poole.**

# Foreword by Kimberley Montpetit

I'm thrilled to introduce this mesmerizing new series __ by the incredibly talented Jennifer Youngblood and Sandra Poole.

Jennifer and I met for the first time a few months ago when she picked me up at the airport, sight unseen, as we were on our way to a writer's retreat. I was a little nervous because most of the writers who were attending were still strangers to me and most of them were already great friends, but Jennifer could not have been more friendly and welcoming. We hit it off instantly and talked non-stop all the way up to our mountain retreat.

I soon learned that she was not only drop-dead gorgeous, but a beautiful and giving person inside. Of course, I was also charmed by her darling Alabama accent—and the biscuits and gravy she cooked for us one morning!

I can promise you that _Banish my Heart,_ the first title in The Grimm Laws Series, will charm you with captivating characters and thrilling intrigue and romance.

Sink into your comfy chair, grab a pot of raspberry tea, and lose yourself in the magical world of Elle where two princes are vying for her affection as she attempts to navigate a strange, new world after she awakens from a coma and an accident she cannot remember . . . This is a Cinderella story where the real world and the fairy-tale world collide with disastrous consequences.

~Kimberley Montpetit

Author of the _Secret Billionaire Romance_ Series. Visit Kimberley's Amazon Page HERE.

# Introduction by Cami Checketts

I have long been a fan of Jennifer Youngblood's stories. They are the perfect combination of romance, suspense, and character growth. It was a treat for me when I was able to meet Jennifer at a writer's retreat. We had an instant connection that developed into friendship, as I grew to admire Jennifer even more. She's a true southern doll with the accent and fun phrases she uses, but she is also just a genuine sweetheart.

I'm happy to introduce to you yet another amazing story from Jennifer and her mother and co-author Sandra that will touch your heart and keep you turning pages, no matter what else you may have on your to-do list. Happy reading!

Cami Checketts, author of the Billionaire Bride Pact Romances. Visit Cami's Amazon author page HERE

# Our Gift to You

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Get Beastly Charm: A Contemporary retelling of beauty & the beast for FREE (a $3.99 value). Get the book HERE.

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# Prologue

Once upon a time... in a kingdom far, far away...

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A sense of loathing permeated Aalexander as he watched his brother Ruben dismantle his opponent's sword, the metal making a sharp ping on the stone floor that echoed throughout the cavernous throne room. The squire fell to his knees, an act of submission that should've been enough to end the match, but for Ruben simple defeat was never enough. The man fighting Ruben was a frequent champion of the tournament. This alone gave Ruben cause to dislike him but there was more. The squire was highly favored by the king—an unpardonable achievement in Ruben's eyes. Aalexander suspected from the start that the match was a carefully orchestrated demonstration performed for the king's benefit. And now, he knew his suspicion was correct. If any doubts lingered in the old king's mind about who to choose as his successor, Ruben was determined to put them to rest here and now by completely humiliating this squire in front of the nobility of the royal court.

In a flurry of motion, Ruben ripped off his visor and threw it to the floor. He glanced at the king, who was sitting on the throne, his expression carefully masked. Ruben's black eyes glittered in triumph as he touched the tip of his sword to the squire's throat, forcing him to his feet. Then with showy exaggeration, Ruben threw down his sword. The implication was clear. He'd bested the squire with the sword, now he would conquer him with his strength. The two men squared off before the match ended quickly when Ruben went in for the kill. He side-swept the squire's leg, sending him spiraling. Before the squire even hit the floor, Ruben was on top of him. Viciously, he yanked the squire's arm at an awkward angle. The squire yelped in pain as the sickening sound of a bone cracking rent the air. Ruben pushed the squire away from him where he lay moaning and holding his arm. Ruben jumped to his feet, faced the king, and gave him a mocking bow. "As I told you, father, no one can defeat me." Ruben scoped the room and thrust out his chest. "Which of you dares to fight me? Come forward!" He looked disdainfully at the fallen squire. "I bested your champion, and I will best any man who dares to come against me. I am the only one fit to be the next king." He eyed the squires, daring them to come forward. One by one, they lowered their heads and backed away.

"Is this true?" The king's eyes roved the room, looking for one who would stand up to Ruben. "Is there no one else worthy of the throne?" His eyes fell on Aalexander, and he could sense the disappointment in his father's eyes when his feet stayed planted where he was. Whereas Ruben was brawny and ruthless, Aalexander was leaner and intellectual. Although an accomplished swordsman in his own right, he was no match for Ruben.

Seeing the exchange, Ruben cocked his head and focused his attention on Aalexander. Amusement lit his black eyes, his voice taunting. "Brother, do you want to try a hand against me?"

Aalexander only glared at him, causing a jeering laugh to rumble from within Ruben's barrel chest. "I thought not."

"Is there no one?" the king repeated. There was a note of sadness in his voice.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Inexplicably, Aalexander looked across the room to where the minstrels were gathered, watching intently. His eyes met Wisteria's, the young maiden who'd consumed his thoughts from the moment she stepped foot in the palace. She was a beauty with her slender figure and thick, dark hair cascading down her back in soft curls, but it was her violet eyes that caught his attention. She seemed to be issuing a silent challenge for him to gather the courage to face his brother. Even though Ruben and Aalexander were twins, they were as different as the daylight and dark. Since Ruben was the firstborn, he assumed he would one day be king and reminded Aalexander of it nearly every day for as long as he could remember. Normally, Aalexander avoided direct confrontation with the sadistic monster, but he sensed that this was the moment of truth—the moment he'd either face him head-on or live in subjugation the rest of his life. Furthermore, Ruben's thirst for power knew no bounds. He was cruel and selfish. If Ruben did become king, the kingdom would suffer greatly. Like it or not, it was up to him to stop Ruben once and for all. No one else was going to. Even from across the room, he could feel Wisteria's will, bending his to hers. It was so powerful that it was nearly tangible. His feet seemed to have a will of their own, as he stepped forward.

Fear lay thick in his throat. His eyes remained fixed on Wisteria as he spoke. "I will fight!" he said, struggling to keep the quiver out of his voice.

Ruben whirled around in surprise. A flash of anger twisted his face. "Very well, brother," he sneered, picking up his sword.

The king clasped his hands together. "Splendid!"

Aalexander unsheathed his sword and stepped forward as Ruben eyed him coldly. They both went into a crouched position. Ruben was the first to strike, and it was all Aalexander could do to meet it and hit back. A shiver of panic raced down his spine. Ruben was even stronger than he'd imagined. He swallowed the dread and willed himself to drain the emotions. His only chance was to focus solely on the task at hand. He concentrated on hitting back with swift smooth strokes.

Surprise flickered in Ruben's eyes. "You are better than I thought, brother."

Aalexander ignored the compliment. He'd seen Ruben use this tactic before—flattering the opponent long enough to catch him off guard. He used all of his strength to level a hard blow that sent Ruben stumbling backwards. Aalexander didn't pause to celebrate the small victory but instead stepped forward and charged, his sword slashing through the air and clashing with Ruben's.

"Very good!" Ruben roared.

Aalexander clanged swords with him again, but this time, Ruben made a swift turn that caused Aalexander to overshoot the target and lose his balance. Before he realized what was happening, Ruben had knocked the sword out of his hand and forced him to his knees.

"My dear brother." The words came out cold and clipped, and there was not a trace of humanity in Ruben's midnight eyes.

The fear returned with a vengeance, along with the sickening realization that he'd failed. Ruben traced the blade of the sword along Aalexander's jaw. "The fair-haired, handsome one." He studied him critically as if he were studying a statue. "I suppose I owe it to you to give you a small memento—in case you ever decide to cross me again."

It was then Aalexander knew what Ruben intended to do—scar his face. Dread shuddered through his body. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wisteria step closer. There was a look of raw fury on her face. It kindled anger in Aalexander. If he only had his sword, he would wipe that cruel smirk off of Ruben's square face and take what was rightfully his. No sooner had he thought the words than the sword seemed to lift off the ground and fly into his hand. He brought it up swiftly, knocking the sword out of Ruben's hand. He leapt to his feet and forced Ruben to his knees with his sword.

The look of astonishment on Ruben's thick face was almost comical. "You are forgetting your place," he muttered.

"Nay," Aalexander countered loudly. "For the first time, I am remembering my place. I am a son of the king—and a rightful heir to the throne."

Ruben's eyes narrowed dangerously as he lifted an eyebrow. "Shall we have a rematch to see which of us is the best?"

Aalexander laughed lightly. He and Ruben both knew it was a miracle that he'd beaten him. They could fight a hundred more times and Ruben would most likely win every time, but that was beside the point, here and now—when it counted most—Aalexander had won. The knowledge sent a thrill through him. Ruben was no longer invincible. He'd proven that to the entire room but most importantly, he'd proven it to himself, the king, and Ruben.

Ruben moved to stand, but Aalexander jabbed the point of the blade to his throat. "Not so fast." He looked at the king. "Father, I hereby declare my interest in the throne."

"That is ridiculous!" Ruben scoffed.

The king chuckled. "Spoken by the one beaten by his younger brother."

Color blotched up Ruben's meaty neck, a murderous expression on his face.

"You have proven your point, Aalexander." The king motioned. "Let your brother stand."

Reluctantly, Aalexander lowered his sword. Ruben leapt to his feet and shoved him.

"Enough!" the king's voice boomed. "Approach the throne."

The two brothers eyed one another warily before stepping up to the throne.

All eyes were on the king who sat, thoughtfully stroking his chin. He addressed Ruben first. "You are the eldest."

"Aye, Father," Ruben answered quickly, giving Aalexander a vindicated look.

The king held up a hand. "But only by a few breaths."

Ruben's shoulders fell.

"You are strong and fearless—a famed hunter, skilled swordsman, and the mightiest of squires."

"Aye," Ruben said, standing up straighter.

"But a king must also show good judgment... compassion."

"Compassion is for the weak, father," Ruben countered.

The king gave Ruben a sharp look. "Do not mistake compassion for weakness." He looked at Aalexander. "You are studious and pensive with patrician features like your mother. I have often feared you would falter on the battlefield, but the courage you displayed today... Very impressive. Well done."

"Thank you, Father," Aalexander said with a nod.

"It would seem that both of my sons are rightful heirs, but there can only be one." He paused, tapping his fingers on the golden arm rests. "I will send you on a quest, fraught with many dangers. Your every virtue and skill will be required to accomplish this task. Aye," he mused, speaking mostly to himself. "I am old, and my eyesight is growing dim. I am in need of the Truth Sayer to help me better interpret The Grimm Laws."

Aalexander knew the real reason his father could no longer read the book—he was losing his hold on the kingdom, and the book was losing faith in him. He doubted the Truth Sayer would help, but he dared not say as much.

The king turned his attention to the crowd. "Ladies and Gents of the court, I have before me two worthy contenders for the throne. I, King Gregory de Moncier, do hereby declare I will send forth my sons on a quest to retrieve the Truth Sayer. He who brings it back to me will be the next king." He raised his scepter in the air for all to see. "It is hereby declared and shall henceforth become law."

A murmur rustled through the crowd.

Ruben grabbed Aalexander's arm and muttered in his ear. "You've made an enemy this day, brother."

Aalexander searched the castle grounds until he found Wisteria in the gardens. He paused for a moment behind a tree, watching her. She was a vision with her exquisite features and tiny waist. His eyes lingered on the gentle curve of her hips, and he wondered how someone so dainty could possess such a strong will. Without warning, she turned sharply and stared in his direction. He jumped back behind the tree. Her amused laughter rang through the garden, reminding him of tinkling bells. Then she put a hand on her hip and cocked her head. She motioned with her finger. "Come."

Hesitantly, he stepped out from behind the tree, embarrassed she'd caught him watching her. He was almost to her side when she laughed again and took off running, her purple gown flowing out behind her. It only took him a moment to reach her. He caught her arm and whirled her around to face him. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief. His blood quickened as he caught a whiff of the intoxicating floral scent she was wearing. "Wisteria," he said, his voice going husky. How many nights had he lain awake, dreaming of her? He longed to take her in his arms and smother her with kisses, but he needed answers. Something had happened to him today—something he didn't understand. He'd felt her presence, almost as if she were lending him strength. It seemed absurd, but it had felt so real. And the sword had leapt into his hand. He'd thought the words, and it had obeyed.

He looked down and realized she was watching him, an amused smile tugging at her lips. She cut her eyes at the nearby bench. "Shall we?"

They sat down, and he scooted as close to her as propriety would allow. She chuckled and scooted closer to him. "Trying to protect my reputation, are you?"

He felt his face flush. He'd never met anyone like Wisteria. There had been plenty of maidens in his past, including Loreena his fiancée by arrangement, but none that consumed him the way Wisteria did. There was something wild and alive about her that captivated his very soul. He knew instinctively, that for him, there would never be anyone else. His eyes went to her full lips the color of ripe cherries. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her then and there. Judging by her amused expression, he guessed she knew what he was thinking. The temptation to take her in his arms was so strong that he clasped his hands together tightly in his lap to keep from making a fool of himself. "About today..."

"You were brave and noble."

"I was afraid," he admitted.

"Even the brave feel fear, Aalexander. 'It is true mark of nobility to act in spite of the fear."

His eyes met hers, and he voiced the thought that had been churning in his mind. "You helped me."

She looked like she might try and deny it, then she nodded. "Aye."

A feverish excitement quivered in his chest. "How?"

She flashed a mysterious smile. "I only kindled the spark, you did the rest. If the courage had not been in you, it would not have worked."

"But the sword... I thought the words, and it rushed into my hand."

An uneasy laugh escaped her lips. "Nay, you are only remembering it as such because your adrenaline was flowing."

He caught her arm. "I know what I saw," he said firmly, locking eyes with hers. "Magic."

Her eyes grew wide, and she looked around as if afraid someone would hear. "Shh."

He leaned in and lowered his voice. "It was the most wonderful magic my eyes ever beheld, and I will be forever grateful. I owe you a great debt, mi' lady."

A small smile escaped her lips, and she gave him a slight nod. "One that I will be inclined to collect someday."

He began rubbing circles on her arm. "Teach me," he implored.

She looked at him in surprise.

His eyes twinkled, and he gave her a teasing smile. "Will you deny the future king this simple request?"

She made a face. "The possible future king."

He laughed. "Aye, first, I must undertake the dreaded quest." His eyes became pleading. "Please, I implore you, teach me. With your help, I will be the next king for certain."

Her eyes grew clouded, and she shook her head. "Nay, I cannot teach the future king magic," she whispered.

He couldn't stand it any longer. He put his arm around her and drew her into him. "Then teach me. Teach, Aalexander, the man. Will you do that?" he murmured into her hair.

He thought his heart would melt when she looked up and rewarded him with a brilliant smile. "Perhaps."

"Then let us start with a kiss," he said as his lips took hers.

## Chapter One

# The Stranger in the Mirror

### Present Day

Before the accident she'd been normal. Before the accident she'd never questioned who she was. Or what she should do. How she should act. It came as easily to her as breathing—at least that's what everyone kept saying. She reached for a comb and absentmindedly raked it through her long, blond tresses while studying her reflection in the antique mirror. She was attractive, she decided, with fine-boned features and a thin nose sprinkled with freckles so faint she had to lean forward to see them. Delicate lips framed white, even teeth. She ran the tip of her index finger along the curve of her jaw as she continued her critique of the reflection in the mirror. She was thin, perhaps a little on the skinny side. She shrugged off the notion. While she might not be able to remember her name, family, or past, she somehow knew that being skinny wasn't a bad thing. Clear, intelligent eyes stared back at her like two large, blue coins. They were obviously her best feature, but they looked so strange... so lost. She stared into the fathomless blue pools until fear fluttered in her breast. She suppressed it and leaned toward her reflection, gripping the comb hard, making imprints in her palm. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Why can't you remember?" She exerted all of her power, willing her brain to recollect something... anything. All her effort yielded was the beginning of a dull headache working its way across her forehead.

As far as she could tell, this is how it happened. She'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror, just out of the shower. A pimple had popped up on her forehead. She'd stood on her tiptoes, reaching up to the top shelf of the cabinet, trying to grab the acne medicine. The rug slipped underneath her feet and she'd fallen backwards, hitting her head on the porcelain tub. It was a freak accident that put her in a coma for two weeks and three days. When she finally awoke, she had no recollection of... well... anything. Her life was a big blank. The doctors were stupefied, not understanding how a single bump on the head could cause such calamitous results. They'd put her through a barrage of MRI's, CAT-Scans and every other test they could dream up. Even though everything came back clean, there was lurking suspicion the coma was induced by some latent, perhaps hereditary, condition triggered by the concussion.

"Will my memory come back?" she'd asked, looking back and forth between the white-cloaked doctors and the strangers who were her family.

Dr. Marcourt, the leading physician, had scratched his head. "It's hard to say because every case is so different. Since we don't know the definitive cause of your coma and memory loss, we don't know when—if ever—your memory will resurface. The best advice I can give you is to take things one day at a time. Trust your family. Trust yourself. Build a life for yourself starting today. You may never be the same as you were before, and that's okay. As imperfect as it is, life is a gift."

She glared at her reflection. Some gift!

The reflection in the mirror smiled at her.

She stopped and looked. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She'd not been smiling, and yet the face in the mirror had smiled. She frowned, and the reflection did the same. She smiled. The reflection smiled back. Giddy relief flooded through her. Even though it was impossible... ridiculous... for a split second she'd had the impression the girl in the mirror was not merely a reflection, but another person—separate and disconnected. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and made a few faces, relieved that the reflection simultaneously mimicked her movements. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. It was ridiculous getting this worked up over her reflection. She turned away from the mirror, but a laugh stopped her cold. Her reflection laughed at her. She'd laughed once, and her reflection had laughed back. Ever so slowly, she turned to the mirror, dreading what she would see. There she was—pale face, hollow eyes staring back, reflecting the fear that returned with a vengeance. "Who are you?" she whispered. The reflection remained unchanged. She touched the mirror, half-expecting her finger to pass through it. It was solid and cold. She sighed. _Get a grip, Elle!_ She broke out in a cold sweat. _I've lost my memory and now I'm losing my mind._ She arose from the dressing chair, backed away from the mirror, and sat down on the bed. She focused on her breathing. _In...2...3...4, Out...2...3...4._ Elle averted her gaze from the dreaded mirror, but couldn't resist the pull to look back. Her eyes went to the milky white, antique-finished mirror attached to the dressing table. The matching chair upholstered in a striped pattern of various shades of pink. She studied the dressing table and mirror objectively, glad to have something other than herself on which to focus her attention. The graceful curves etched in gold paint were outlandishly formal compared to the walnut bed with its straight, hard lines. It would be more fitting in a mansion than her teenage-girl bedroom. She looked up to where a jeweled chandelier hung. At least the dresser and chandelier matched, although the chandelier was too ornate for a bedroom. Her gaze went to the hot-pink, overstuffed chair with bold, black roses. A purple and pink pillow dripping in orange fringe was the crowning touch. The walls were pale pink. Wow! Obviously, her taste in decor was a little off before the accident.

The door burst open. Josselyn bounded in and plopped down on the bed beside her. Her singsong voice floated through the air. "Elle, what are you doing? Why are you just sitting here on the bed like an imbecile, wringing your hands? I know you're supposedly recovering, but this head injury thing is getting to be a real drag."

Elle looked down at her hands. She gave her stepsister a weak smile. "I'm just trying to figure out if I should wear my hair up or down tonight." It took effort to keep her voice light. It took effort to pretend to be the self-absorbed, airy, socialite she'd apparently been before the accident.

Josselyn smirked. "Now that sounds like the Elle I know. Yes, what could be more important than your hair? You are, after all, the junior homecoming attendant. Of course everyone will be gawking at you." She motioned with her hand and wrinkled her nose. "Although, I must say. You've got some work to do if you're expecting to transform _that_ into your usual perfect self. Are those sweatpants?"

"And what's wrong with sweatpants?"

"You haven't worn sweatpants since you were nine. You really are losing it. Mom said you were, but I didn't believe her..." her eyes raked over Elle "... until now."

Blood rushed to Elle's face. "Oh, I didn't realize. I just wanted to be comfortable. I'm going to take a nap and I—"

"Enough already! Who are you, and what have you done with my stepsister? The old Elle would never stoop to apologies."

"Oh." Every time she opened her mouth, everything seemed to come out wrong. How could she be so different now from the person she was before?

Josselyn cocked her head, causing her corkscrew curls to bounce. "Okay, let's see the hair."

Elle swept up her long tresses and held them with her hands. "What do you think?"

"Up," she said decidedly.

"Okay, _up_ it is."

Josselyn rose from the bed and went over to the dress draped over the chair. She held it up to herself and went to the mirror. "I thought you were going to wear the yellow one because it highlights your hair."

Elle shrugged. "I changed my mind and decided to wear the blue one instead."

Josselyn's lips formed a petulant frown. "But you hate blue."

"I do?"

"Yes, you hate the way it brings out the color in your eyes."

"Why would I hate that?" This conversation wasn't making any sense. Five minutes earlier, she'd looked in the mirror and thought how her blue eyes were her best feature.

Josselyn gave her an impatient sigh and placed the dress back on the chair. "You don't like your blue eyes. You wish they were brown. In fact, you even bought brown contacts once to try and cover them up, but they turned your eyes a hideous purple color. Do you really not remember that?"

"No... I..." Elle's voice trailed off, and she looked away. Most of the time she pretended to remember more than she did because it was too humiliating to admit that she didn't remember anything at all.

Josselyn sat back down beside her. "Okay, let's go over this again." She spoke slowly and exaggeratedly, as if she were talking to a four-year-old. "Tonight is homecoming, and you're the eleventh grade attendant. Lynessa Miles, your archenemy since third grade, ran against you. It was a tight race, but in the end, you won. You're blonde, popular, captain of the cheerleading squad, and you're dating Edward Kingsley the quarterback. Have I left anything out?"

"No, I think you've about covered it. Even my feeble mind can grasp that," Elle snapped.

"Don't get huffy with me! It's not my fault that you fell in the bathroom and lost your memory."

"Well, you don't have to act so smug about it." She may've lost her memory, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that she and Josselyn didn't get along. Since her return from the hospital, Josselyn had been downright hateful. Her stepmother Sera, was cold, and her father left town on a business trip the day after she returned home. Yes, they were all one, big, happy family.

"Look, I can appreciate that you've lost your memory, but I haven't." Josselyn trailed her fingers through her hair. "Unlike you, I haven't been able to forget all of the horrible things you've done to me over the years."

Elle rocked back. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, let's see," Josselyn feigned remembering, though it was obvious from her rapid-fire responses she kept the memories close. "How about the time you told Jeremy Stanford and the entire school that your chubby stepsister had a crush on him?"

"I... did that?" Elle asked cautiously.

"Uh huh. You certainly did. But you didn't stop there. The summer I lost thirty pounds, you told Mom it was because I took diet pills. I was grounded for a month over that."

"You lost thirty pounds?"

Josselyn rolled her eyes. "Yes, Elle, I did. Old news."

Elle started twisting a lock of her hair. "Well, you look great."

"Gee, thanks."

"Were you taking diet pills?"

She let out a laugh. "Well, duh, who do you think got them for me?"

This was all coming at her too fast, the implication obvious. "I got them for you," she said flatly.

"See, your memory is returning already." Josselyn stood. "Anyway, Mom sent me up here to see if you want to go shopping with us."

Elle thought for a minute. The homecoming game didn't start until 7:00 p.m. and it was only 10:00 in the morning. A little shopping might be nice. "How long are we going to be gone?"

"Don't worry, we'll be back in plenty of time for you to get beautified, if that's what you're worried about."

"Okay, let me change and I'll be right down."

"See ya downstairs."

"Good morning, Sera," Elle said as she entered the dining room.

Her stepmother didn't bother to look up. Instead, she took a long swig of coffee and kept her eyes on the newspaper she was perusing. "You finally dragged yourself out of bed, I see."

"I've been up for a while, I was just in my room."

Sera looked at her. "I see. Well, at least you finally put something on other than those dreadful sweatpants you've been wearing."

"I guess." She stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do next.

Sera seemed to enjoy her discomfort. "Well, don't just stand there. Go and get yourself something to eat. Josselyn and I are going shopping."

"Uh, yeah. I thought I'd go with you guys... if that's okay."

Sera put down the paper. She scrutinized Elle with a critical eye. "Of course you can go with us... if you're sure you're up to it."

"Yeah, I feel fine."

She cocked her head. "You don't look fine."

Elle's throat went dry and she swallowed. "I feel fine."

"Did you finish all of your chores yesterday?"

Elle nodded and then started ticking off the list of things she'd done. "I took out the garbage, unloaded the dishwasher, and dusted the bookshelves. Plus, I dusted the living room," she added.

"It's nice to see you earning your keep around here. Did you clean the bathrooms and mop?"

Elle stopped short. "Um, I thought that was Josselyn's job."

Sera stood and smiled, but her eyes remained cold. "Elle, you know I assigned those chores to you."

Her pulse bumped up a notch as she thought back to the day before. She'd lost her memory of the past, but she had no problem recalling events since she'd come home from the hospital several days ago. The cool, indifferent treatment she'd received from this frigid woman who was her stepmother. She had no problem recalling the way Sera's forehead wrinkled when she disagreed, or the look of disapproval in her cryptic, black eyes. "I distinctly remember you assigning those chores to Josselyn."

Sera cocked her head, her expression a mixture of surprise and annoyance. "Are you questioning me?"

"I'm just saying that you assigned those chores to Josselyn, not me. I did everything that you asked me to." Elle's stomach lurched. The last thing she wanted was an argument with her stepmother. The woman was impossible! Everything about her was hard and impenetrable, making Elle wonder what her father had possibly seen in her. Sera was all hard angles, there was nothing soft or attractive about her. To make matters worse, she was Elle's stepmother and her aunt—her late mother's older sister. When Elle's mother got sick, Sera came to take care of her, bringing along a young Josselyn. When Elle's mother passed away, her father married Sera. Elle suspected her father married Sera on the rebound, because that was the only scenario that made sense.

On the night she came home from the hospital, Sera and her father had sat side-by-side, explaining the family dynamics to her. She'd asked to see a photo album, hoping scraps of memory would surface, but they'd told her the photos were damaged a few years earlier when the basement flooded due to a busted pipe. The only photos they'd been able to produce were taken a few months before the accident. Even if she'd been able to look at older photos, she doubted she would recognize anything. Everyone around her was a stranger. Heck, she was a stranger to herself, but there was one thing she knew. Even though Sera pretended to care about Elle's well-being, she obviously didn't. If only her father were here, he would understand. "When's my dad getting back?"

"Yes, if your father were here, he'd most assuredly take your side, as he always does. Unfortunately, his flight got delayed and he won't get back from New York until late tonight."

Elle's stomach clutched. All week long, she'd been living for the moment when her father would return. She didn't realize until this moment, she'd been counting on him being there to watch her walk across the field.

"Don't stand there sulking like a lost puppy. It's a pity he'll miss homecoming, but Josselyn and I will be there." She flashed a cool smile. "After all, we're your family too." Her voice flowed like syrup, but there was nothing sweet about it—it was all bitterness.

Elle hated the smug look on Sera's face. She was obviously thrilled that Elle's dad wouldn't be there to see her tonight. She swallowed back the disappointment and looked Sera in the eye. "While I may not be able to remember the past, I do know my father loves me. That much, I do remember."

Sera let out a nervous chuckle before reaching up to push a loose strand of hair back into her severe bun. "Well, of course he does, dear. What a silly thing to say. Now, getting back to your chores."

"Josselyn's chores. I did my chores."

"Don't you get uppity with me, young lady."

Elle blew out a breath. Had things always been this difficult with Sera? "I'm not trying to argue with you, Sera. Why don't you ask Josselyn? We were both standing right here when you gave us the assignments yesterday."

"Very well, if you insist." She craned her neck and yelled, "Joss, get in here."

A moment later, Josselyn stepped into the room. "Yes, Mother. What is it?"

"Elle keeps insisting that I gave you the assignment to clean the bathrooms yesterday."

Josselyn's eyes went wide. "What?"

"You were standing right beside me when she gave you the assignment." Elle's face was growing hotter by the minute.

Josselyn was a picture of innocence. "No, she assigned the bathrooms to you. She told me to unload the dishwasher, take out the garbage, and dust the bookshelves. And that's exactly what I did."

"What!" She wanted to rip Josselyn's head off. "How can you stand there and tell a bold-faced lie! You didn't do any of those things. I did!"

"Elle, why are you saying all of this? You weren't feeling well, so you lay around all day yesterday."

"I did my chores first, and you know it!" She glared at Josselyn, daring her to disagree.

Tears sprang to Josselyn's eyes. "Look how she treats me, Mother. She's always so mean."

Elle saw red. "I'm being mean? You're the one that's standing here lying!"

"Enough!" Sera boomed. "That will be enough from you, young lady!" She pointed at Elle. "I'm going to tell you what you're going to do. You're going to clean all three bathrooms and mop. And you're going to do a thorough job! Furthermore, you are to pull all of the dead flowers from the beds in the front yard. If it's not done by the time we get back from shopping, then you won't go to the game tonight—homecoming attendant or not! Do you understand?"

She was trapped. Trapped in her own house by this horrible woman and her lying daughter. No wonder she'd lost her memory. She'd probably chosen to block it all out because it was too terrible to contemplate.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you!" Sera demanded.

Elle looked at Josselyn who wouldn't meet her glare. "You win. I'll do your stupid chores."

"Mother!" Josselyn wailed. "She's taunting me."

Sera placed a hand on Josselyn's arm. "Never mind her, dear. It's just noise." Her eyes met Elle's. "Insignificant and useless noise."

"Stupid flowers! Stupid yard!" Elle plunged the spade into the earth, attacking the dead flowers and yanking them out. It felt good to vent her frustration, even if it was only at the beds. The more she thought about Sera and Josselyn, the madder she got. How could her father possibly be happy with that insufferable woman? Being around Sera made her wonder what her own mother had been like. Not like that horrible woman... she hoped. After she'd cleaned the bathrooms and mopped, she called her father, but he didn't answer. So, she left him a voice message, asking him what time his flight was getting in. Being left alone with the likes of Sera and Josselyn was a miserable experience. Josselyn kept talking about how horrible Elle had been, but seeing as how she'd just told a bold-faced lie, it was evident that she couldn't be believed or trusted. Then another thought entered her head. A terrible thought that caused her heart to pound. A wave of dizziness enveloped her. Was it possible she was remembering things incorrectly? She swallowed hard, ignoring the way her palms had become sweaty against the spade. Mentally, she ran through the events of the past two days. She distinctly remembered doing those chores. She clutched the spade and thrust it viciously into the dirt. Again and again she attacked the dirt. _I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!_ She repeated the words over and over again in her mind, willing herself to go through the sequence of events from the past couple of days until her head ached.

Elle was finishing up the second flowerbed when she felt the sensation of being watched. She turned toward the house next door and saw a guy standing on the front porch, leaning against the column. Her eyes met his, and she could tell from his expression that she was supposed to know him. The fact that he was very handsome didn't help matters. He was tall and lean with black wavy hair and eyes so intense that she could feel the heat of them from across the yard. Her heart began to pound. She couldn't face trying to make polite conversation with him—not when her head felt like it was about to explode. She looked away, but she could still feel him standing there, staring at her. _What?_ She wanted to scream. She looked at him again through narrowed eyes. This time, there was a trace of amusement on his face. She glared at him and was startled to see him chuckle. An unreasonable anger surged through her. She threw down the spade and stood, her feet squared. "What do you want?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you really have to ask... Elle?"

The way he spoke her name was almost a caress. The distance between them seemed to shrink, and she became aware of the way his shirt fell along his muscular chest, the strong curve of his jaw, the way his blue eyes sparked when he gave her the slightest hint of a smile. Confusion clouded over her. These feelings. Where were they coming from? She lifted her chin. "I don't remember you," she said with more certainty than she felt.

"Well, that's mighty convenient."

"What're you talking about?"

He flashed a smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I'm talking about this _supposed_ memory loss thing, I'm just not buying it, that's all."

She clenched her fists to her side. "How dare you insinuate that I would pretend to lose..." She shook her head. "Forget it!" She started running up the front steps to her house.

"You know me, Elle," he yelled after her. "You know me!" She heard him say it again as she went inside, slamming the door behind her. For good measure, she turned and locked it.

She ran her hands through her hair and leaned against the door. He was right. She did know him. Her heated reaction to him had come from some deep, basic part of her—some primal part that she could never let out. She shuddered. Where were these thoughts coming from? She shook her head. _Some primal part, that she could never let out?_ She really was losing it. He was some random guy—a neighbor that enjoyed getting under her skin. That was all. Even as she thought the words, she somehow knew that he was more. An image of him, leaning against the column flashed through her mind. The knowing look in his eyes, and his cocky attitude. She shut her eyes, willing the image to disappear. Something about him scared her—scared her to the core. And somehow, in a way she couldn't understand, she knew she must stay away from him. She went to her room and threw herself down on the bed. A nap was what she needed—a nice long nap. Everything would look better when she woke up. She closed her eyes and drifted off. It was in that moment, right before sleep overtook her, that she remembered his name—Rushton. His name was Rushton.

## Chapter Two

# The Kiss

Elle sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She looked out the window at the darkening sky. Her heart dropped. "Oh, my gosh," she blustered. It was getting dark outside. She reached for her cell phone—5:45. "What the heck!" She'd set the alarm on her phone for 3:00. Had she slept through it? She pushed her hair out of her face and checked the alarm. It was turned off. She had turned it on, hadn't she? She jumped out of bed and went to the chair to retrieve the dress. Her mind was whirling. It was almost 6:00, and she still had to shower. The school was ten minutes away, and she was supposed to be there by 6:15. Had Josselyn and Sera gotten home from their shopping trip? "This is a disaster," she spat, mad at herself for oversleeping. "How could I be so stupid?" She willed herself to calm down. Losing it wasn't going to help matters. She could get ready in a few minutes. It wouldn't be the end of the world if she was a little late. The game didn't start until 7:00, and she wouldn't have to walk out on the field until halftime. She reached for the dress and let out a cry, not believing what her eyes were seeing. There was a dark stain splattered across the dress that started at the neckline and went halfway down the front. She touched it _._ It was sticky and brown. She raised the dress to her nose. Chocolate! It was chocolate.

Panic rose in her throat almost cutting off her breath. What was she going to do?

"Josselyn, where are you? What happened to my dress?" She ran through the house with her soiled dress across her arm, but there was no one home. Had they left already? Surely, they wouldn't just leave her here! Angry tears welled in her eyes as she walked back to her room and threw the dress on the bed.

She picked up her phone and called Josselyn. For the first time, she was glad that Sera had insisted that she add the numbers for family members into her phone. She groaned when it went to voice mail. "Josselyn, I'm here at home. Where are you guys? There's something... chocolate... all over my dress. I don't know what to do... Call me!" She tried Sera's number next.

"Hello."

"Sera," she breathed, relieved that she'd been able to get at least one of them on the phone.

"Yes?" came the cool reply.

"I'm here at home, and I'm not sure where you are."

"At the game, of course."

"You just left me here?"

There was a loud sigh. "We tried to wake you, but you wouldn't budge. We finally had to leave without you."

"What? How could you?" Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "H-how could you do this to me?" Her voice broke, and she couldn't stifle the sob that was building in her throat.

"It's obvious that you're in no condition to go to a game," Sera snapped. "Listen to you, you're an emotional wreck."

"Well, of course I'm a wreck! Someone, probably Joss, spilt chocolate down the front of my dress, and then you guys up and left me here!"

"I don't like the tone of your voice. And I don't appreciate you accusing Josselyn of—"

Elle let out a groan and ended the call. She threw the phone on the bed and then crouched down on the floor in a fetal position with her head buried in her knees. She let the tears flow freely until she realized her phone was ringing.

"Hello," she sniffed.

"Elle, where are you?"

"Who is this?"

An exasperated sigh. "Really? You don't know."

"No... I'm sorry..."

"Oh, yeah, the head injury thing. It's Rae, your best friend. Geez, how many times am I going to have to keep reintroducing myself!"

"Rae, I'm so glad you called." Rae had been the one bright spot in her gray-cast life. From the moment she'd awoken from the coma, Rae had come to the hospital everyday to check on her. Even though she found her outspokenness intimidating, there was something endearing about the spiky-haired redhead. She was so real and practical. Just hearing her voice helped to restore a measure of sanity.

"Where are you? Miss Caskill's looking all over the place for you. The woman's gonna blow a pipe if you don't show up soon."

She swallowed hard. "I don't think I'm going to be able to make it."

"What?" Rae was yelling and there was lots of noise in the background.

Elle told her about the chocolate smeared over the dress and how Sera and Josselyn left her there.

"Okay, let me think. Can you get the chocolate out?"

"I don't know. I don't really know how to get stains—"

"Can you Google it?"

"Yeah, I could do that..."

"Never mind, there's no time. Do you have another dress?"

Elle thought about the yellow dress. Her heart lifted. "Yes, I do have another dress." She was surprised she hadn't thought of it sooner. She stood and went to the closet, frantically searching through the clothes. "It's not here!"

"What?"

"The dress!" She threw up her hands. "It's not here! Josselyn must've taken it."

"Well, go get it!"

"Yes, I will."

"Okay, I'll get someone to pick you up."

"Can't you come and get me?"

She let out an amused chuckle. "You really have lost your memory, Elle. I'm here at the game with the cheering squad. I can't leave. The only reason you're off the hook tonight is because you're in the homecoming court. Otherwise, your butt would be here with me."

That's right. She was a cheerleader—the head cheerleader. It was so strange that she had no recollection of any of it. Would she remember the cheers or how to do the jumps? What if she'd not only lost her memory but her abilities as well? The thought was chilling.

"Look, you just get ready and go out on the front porch. Someone will be there in fifteen minutes to pick you up. I'll stall Miss Caskill."

"Okay, I'll get ready. Rae..."

"Yes."

"Thanks!"

"Yep, anytime."

At least she had one person in her corner. It was comforting to know that Rae was on her side, especially considering that she couldn't say the same for her own family. She rushed to Josselyn's room and threw open the door. She went to the closet and began pulling out hangers, frantically searching for the dress. Then she saw it. She grabbed it and was halfway back to her room when she saw the large rip down the side. "Really?" This couldn't be happening! The dress was fine the last time she looked at it, which was yesterday when she decided to wear the blue one instead. Had Josselyn ripped it on purpose, so she wouldn't have anything to wear? She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The whole situation was absurd. She sat on the bed and blew out a breath, feeling time ticking away, but unable to come up with a solution. More tears welled in her eyes, and she angrily brushed them away.

The doorbell rang. She jumped up. Rae said she was sending someone to pick her up, but it had only been five minutes... and she was supposed to meet the person on the front porch.

The doorbell rang again, followed by loud knocking. "I'm coming!" she huffed, running down the stairs. More knocking. "Geez, I'm coming!" She stomped to the front door and threw it open. Her jaw dropped. "You!" She took a step back.

There he was, the guy from next door, in the flesh—standing there, looking her over from head to toe. "Where's your dress?"

"What?" Her heart bumped up a notch. This guy had hijacked her thoughts all afternoon, despite her best efforts to shut him out, and now he was in the house with her... alone. That he was even better-looking up close didn't help matters.

He motioned. "You're not dressed. Rae called and said you needed a ride to the school. She's all in a panic because, evidently, you're late for your own party. When a member of the homecoming court goes missing, people start to get a little nervous." He flashed a lopsided smile, obviously amused by his own comment.

"Rae called you to pick me up?" She let out an incredulous laugh.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. "What's so funny?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Nothing, I just can't believe that of all the people, she called you."

He rolled his eyes. "I do live next door. And I was headed to the game anyway." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm tired of your silly games. First you storm off when I try to talk to you, and now you're acting so—"

"What?" she slung back. "How am I acting, Rushton? Why don't you tell me?"

"Like a complete lunatic!" He stopped and looked at her funny. "What did you call me?"

"I called you by your name... idiot," she said under her breath.

"No, you called me Rushton."

"Yes, because that's your name."

"My name is Rush," he said firmly. "Rush."

She threw her hands in the air. "Okay, Rush, or whoever you are. I appreciate you coming to get me, but as you can see, I'm not ready! In fact, I can't get ready because my dear stepsister destroyed not one of my dresses, but two!" Her voice rose to a fever pitch, but she was beyond the point of caring. "I'm supposed to be at the school right now, getting ready to walk out onto the field, and I don't even have a dress to wear!"

Her outburst didn't faze him in the slightest. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you finished?"

She wanted to claw that smug expression off his face. "Yes, I'm finished! I'm finished with this homecoming crap, my stupid family, and most of all, I'm finished with you!" Tears were burning in her eyes, and it was all she could do to hold them back. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. She turned away from him. "You need to leave."

He grabbed her arm. "Hey." She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but he held it firm. "Elle." She turned to look at him. His jaw was hard, but there was something akin to tenderness in his eyes. "Are you really gonna let them win?"

She shrugged. "What choice do I have?" She hated the tremor in her voice. It was easier to vent her frustration at him than it was to accept his kindness.

"You need to do this, Elle. You need to show them."

"I don't know," she said hesitantly. There was a peculiar strength in his stormy-blue eyes, something raw and unconquerable that told her that this guy didn't back down from anyone or anything. If only she could be that strong. There was something about him that made her feel stronger. Something that could almost make her believe that she could show them... almost. She looked away. "I don't think so," she mumbled.

He lifted his chin. "You're going."

For a moment, she thought her ears were deceiving her. She bristled. "What did you say to me?"

He leaned forward, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face. His eyes sparked in a challenge, and a ghost of a smile flittered on his lips. "You heard me, Elle."

He was so absurdly bold and cocky, as if he could come in and order her around. A part of her wanted to sock him in the nose and the other part of her wanted... Her eyes moved to his lips and his strong jaw. She thought about how it would feel to kiss him. How it would feel to have his muscular arms wrapped around her. How it would feel to run her hands through the dark hair curling against his neck. Heat crept into her cheeks. Where were these thoughts coming from? Her eyes went to his, and she could tell that he was amused—almost as if he could read her thoughts. She cleared her throat and stepped back to put distance between them.

"I'm not going," she said adamantly.

He gave her a searching look.

She jutted out her chin. "I'm not."

He let out a breath. "Okay, if that's the way you wanna play it."

Her face fell, and she realized with a jolt that she'd been enjoying the verbal sparring. "Giving up so easily?" she taunted.

She could tell from the way his eyes shifted that this took him off guard, but then his expression became serious, and he looked straight at her. "Never."

Everything around her went still. The connection between them was so strong that it nearly took her breath away. Every part of her was drawn to him in a way she didn't understand. He was looking at her so intently that she thought she would get lost in the depths of his eyes. A sense of déjà vu skirted across the edge of her consciousness, but it vanished before she could pinpoint it. She blinked to break the connection, and the moment passed.

Elle wondered if he'd felt the connection too, but his expression was too guarded to tell. His tone became light and a smile played on his lips. "I suppose I could drag you out on the field, but that wouldn't exactly be the prettiest sight."

She couldn't stop the giggle that forced its way out of her throat. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Toting me over your shoulder wouldn't be the best idea."

There was a mischievous spark in his blue eyes. "Fun," he murmured, "but not the most appropriate way for a homecoming attendant to take the field."

She looked away. Things were getting way too steamy between them. She was obviously attracted to him, and there didn't seem to be much she could do to stop herself from feeling this way.

"Well, look at the bright side."

She cocked her head. "Huh?"

"Josselyn will be thrilled. Her evil plan worked. You'll be a no-show, and she can go around telling everyone how emotionally distraught and fragile you've become after the accident. Your stepmother will be elated because the spotlight will then be turned to Josselyn rather than you, and with any luck, they'll let Josselyn walk out onto the field on your behalf."

"What?" She glared at him. "You're baiting me, aren't you?"

He spread his hands in defeat. "I'm just telling you how it is. The ball's in your court, Elle."

"But I told you, both dresses are ruined. One has chocolate all over it, and the other is ripped! What am I supposed to do?"

He leaned in close and touched a strand of her hair, sending a tingle racing down her spine. He smelled of peppermint and the fresh outdoors. For a split second, she thought— _hoped_ he was going to kiss her. "Since when do you need a dress to be homecoming attendant?"

Her eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that I walk out on the field in jeans?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm suggesting. If you go out on that field tonight, you'll show them all, Elle. They'll realize they can't beat you down." There was a challenge in his eyes—a challenge that she wanted to reach up and meet. "Show them, Elle. Show them the girl you really are."

That was the heart of the matter. "I don't know who I am," she said quietly.

"You do, Elle. You just need to remember."

"Yeah, the remembering part is the kicker." She looked up at him. "Um"... she swallowed, trying to find the right way to phrase the question that was plaguing her. "Were the two of us... involved?" She knew her face was flaming like a neon sign, but she had to know. Everyone kept telling her that she and Edward were a couple, but this guy... Rush... he seemed to know so much about her. Not to mention that every inch of her body felt alive when she was near him.

He leaned forward, studying her. "Do you really have to ask that question?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes, I suppose I do."

Disappointment crossed his features and then disappeared as quickly as it had come. He gave her an enigmatic smile and scratched his head before shoving his hands in his pockets. "That's a great question, Elle. But, a topic for another time. Go, get ready. At this rate, we'll be lucky if we get you there before halftime."

She started walking out of the room and then stopped. She turned back to him. "You just convinced me to walk out on the football field, in front of hundreds of people, wearing jeans and a sweater." She shook her head. "How did you do that?"

He flashed a crooked smile that caused her heart to flip. "What can I say? I'm the most persuasive man alive."

She laughed. "I'll give you that."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"What?"

Elle made a face and pointed at the motorcycle. "You want me to ride on that?"

"It certainly beats walking."

Her phone buzzed. "Hey... Rae..."

"Finally! You recognized my voice."

"Yeah."

"Where are you? The attendants are leaving the classroom now and are getting ready to line up on the sidelines!"

"I'm on my way. Rush is here with his bike. We're leaving now."

"You'd better hurry. Who's escorting you onto the field? Edward?"

"Yes." Elle looked sideways at Rush who was getting on the bike and putting on his helmet. She could tell he was listening to her conversation. She didn't know what... exactly... was going on between her and Rush, but she didn't want him to hear her talking about Edward. It was too awkward.

"That's what I thought. I told Miss Caskill as much, but she keeps saying that Coach Harris told her that he wouldn't allow any player to leave the field house during halftime."

"He got special permission from Coach Harris to leave—"

"Wait a minute. She's walking this way. She wants to talk to you." She heard rustling and then the clipped tone of her English Teacher.

"Miss Worthington! You are late!"

"Yes, Miss Caskill, I'm on my way."

"And whom, may I ask, is escorting you onto the field?"

"Um..." She glanced at Rush. "Edward." She saw him tense.

"No, Miss Worthington, you are mistaken. Mr. Harris specifically told me that he would not allow any of the players to leave the field house during halftime."

"He got special permission from Coach Harris."

"Are you sure about that, Miss Worthington? I've been willing to make special allowances for you because of your... err... your memory loss issues. You have already put me in a bind, and I'll not have you further compounding matters. Your tardiness is inexcusable, and now you're telling me that Edward Kingsley is escorting you onto the field, when I expressly heard Mr. Harris say that he wouldn't allow it!" There was a pause. "Are you sure that you're remembering things correctly?"

Blood rushed to her head. The woman was insufferable. She blew out a breath and fought to keep her voice even. "Miss Caskill, I can promise you that Edward Kingsley is going to escort me onto the field. He told me so himself. Now if you don't mind, I need to end this call, so that I can get to the school."

"Very well, Miss Worthington. Get here soon."

Elle ended the call. Rush turned and handed her a helmet. She got on the bike. She could tell from his jerky movements that he was ticked about the phone call. How quickly the barrier had gone up between them. She knew she should feel relief, but instead she felt... well, she wasn't sure what she felt, but it certainly wasn't relief. She sat there for a moment, unsure what to do. When he grasped the handlebars, she had no other choice but to put her arms around his waist. "Look, about that phone call."

"Prince Charming saves the day. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Save your breath, Elle."

Irritation clouded over her. How dare he try and make her feel guilty about Edward! "Why are you being such a bonehead about this?"

Silence.

"What do you want me to say? That I can't remember you, Rush? There, I've said it! I can't! I would say that I'm sorry about that, but the truth is that I can't even remember who I am. I don't know what happened between you and me, but everyone keeps telling me that Edward and I are a couple. Edward certainly thinks we're together. He made that very obvious when he came to the hospital." She blew out a breath. "I don't know why I'm even trying to apologize. I don't owe you an explanation. The two of us are just..."

He turned to look at her. "The two of us are what?"

His blue eyes were roving over her face, searching for an answer, and all she could think about was how devastatingly gorgeous he was with that wavy hair and chiseled jaw. A girl would have to be blind not to notice him, but that wasn't all. There was a raw masculinity or energy that commanded her attention. Every inch of her body was aware of him. Another minute and she would be throwing her arms around him and begging him to kiss her. "The two of us are... friends." Ew, she hated how superficial that sounded.

He grunted in disgust. "Okay, _friend_ , let's get you to the game."

Before she could think of a reply, he revved up the engine. The bike lurched forward, and she was forced to hold onto him for dear life as they sped off. Despite the circumstance, there was something exhilarating about her hair whipping in the wind, her arms wrapping around his lean frame, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. How wonderful it would be if they could forget the world around them and ride off together. It was a fantasy, of course, and one that ended all too soon when they pulled into the parking lot of the school. She hopped off the bike and handed him the helmet. He practically ripped it out of her hands. "Thanks for the ride, _friend_."

He scowled.

She forced a smile. "See ya around," she said, her voice too cheery. She turned to leave, but he put a hand on her arm.

"Good luck."

The sincerity in his voice cut her to the core. Just when she was about to write him off, he did something sweet. Her anger drained. "Look, I hope you know how much I appreciate what you've done for me tonight." Her voice caught. "I owe you..."

Her eyes met his, and she could see frustration and something else she couldn't pinpoint. "Go," he said gruffly.

"What on earth are you wearing, Miss Worthington?" The words were spoken loudly enough so that the other homecoming attendants and their escorts turned to stare as Miss Caskill looked over her with a scathing eye.

Elle looked down at her Silver Jeans and shimmery blue, Vera Wang sweater. She'd dressed up the ensemble by wearing spiked heels and long, dangly, diamond-studded earrings. She offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I was all out of dresses." She rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans.

The woman straightened her 5' 3" frame as high as she could and glared up at Elle. "Do you think this is some joke?"

"No, I don't." The heat of embarrassment stung, and she was suddenly furious with Rush. Why had she listened to him? She should've stayed home like she'd wanted to do in the first place. And she should've listened to that premonition that told her to stay as far away from Rush as she could get.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the second quarter. The football players and coaches ran off the field. Edward removed his helmet. He looked at her from across the field as though he were going to come in her direction, but then he dropped his head and reluctantly turned and ran off the field with the other players.

Her heart dropped. What was he doing? He'd promised her that he would be her escort. Here she was dressed in jeans and a sweater and now her escort was running off the field in the other direction.

Miss Caskill stepped up to her. The little woman was practically breathing fire, and her eyes looked like they might pop out of their sockets. "I told you that Edward would not be allowed to escort you on the field, but you didn't listen. This is unacceptable, Miss Worthington. Unacceptable."

Any apology Elle could've made lay too heavy in her throat to speak. She stood there, numbly, with tears brimming in her eyes. What had she done? Miss Caskill shook her head and stalked away. The band marched onto the field and moved into formation, creating a path through which the homecoming court could pass.

The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Castle High is proud to present this year's homecoming court. The lovely Lydia Davenport, last year's homecoming queen, will present the crown to this year's queen. Lydia is being escorted onto the field by Harry Mayfield..."

The band starting playing as Lydia Davenport in her stunning red dress and her escort walked regally across the field and took their honored place in front of the bleachers filled with people. Elle looked up at the stands, wondering if she could see Sera and Josselyn. They must be laughing at her right now. The announcer kept talking, and the band kept playing, but it was all a blur to Elle as she watched the ninth grade attendant walk down the field with her escort. Only one more—the tenth grade attendant—and then it would be her turn. She would walk the path alone... in jeans. A hysterical laugh was building in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She was losing it... totally losing it. She looked over and saw Miss Caskill, talking furiously to Mr. Owens, the science teacher. They kept throwing glances in her direction.

A moment later, Mr. Owens walked up to her. He was a stout man with a fuzzy mustache that twitched when he spoke. "Elle, that's an interesting outfit that you're wearing."

Elle blushed as she glanced down at her jeans and sweater. "There was an accident involving my dress. It got ruined," she stammered.

He stroked his mustache. "I see. And where is your escort?"

She was in no mood to play along with his silly charade. Miss Caskill had no doubt already told him about Edward. She glared at Miss Caskill. "Look, Mr. Owens, I know Miss Caskill doesn't believe me, but Edward told me that he'd gotten permission from Coach Harris to be my escort."

"I see, and where is Edward?"

She wanted to crawl under the dirt. The words spilled out. "In the field house. There must've been a misunderstanding. I know everyone thinks I'm losing it because of the accident, but Edward really did tell me he could be my escort."

"Is there someone else who could escort you?"

The tenth grade attendant and her escort were walking onto the field.

Elle shook her head. "My dad's flight got delayed, so he couldn't be here." She clenched her fists. This whole thing was so humiliating!

Mr. Owens rubbed his forehead. "If it were up to me, I would let you take the field by yourself." He looked in the direction of Miss Caskill, who was watching them intently to make sure he followed her every order. The man was little more than a puppet. "Anyway, as I was saying, we just don't know if we can allow you to walk out without an escort..." he cleared his throat "... dressed so radically."

She let out an incredulous laugh and looked past him to Miss Caskill. "Radically? I'm wearing jeans and a sweater, for goodness sakes! That's not radical!"

He pulled at his neck like his collar had suddenly grown tight and glanced at Miss Caskill. "I'm sorry, the only way I can let you take that field is if you have an escort."

She wanted to squash the spineless man. Indignation flew over her, and she gritted her teeth. "Fine!" she huffed. She glared across the field to the bleachers swarming with people. Despite all of her effort, Sera and Josselyn had won.

"I'm escorting her across the field."

She turned to see Rush standing beside her. Her knees went weak with relief. He held out his arm and gave her a pointed look. "Isn't that right, Elle?"

Time seemed to stand still as she looked at him, stunned. Finally, she linked her arm through his. "Why yes... yes, that's right."

"But you're not dressed appropriately either," Mr. Owens said in dismay.

"Hmm, I think we make a pretty good match." He smiled at Elle.

"This year's eleventh grade attendant is Elle Worthington," the announcer boomed. The band began to play. Before Mr. Owens could object, Rush tightened his hold on her arm and began walking her across the field.

"You saved me... again," she whispered.

"I'll add it to your tab."

When they got to the middle of the field, she could feel all eyes on her.

"Smile!" Rush hissed.

"Oh!" She plastered a larger-than-life smile on her face. When they neared the crowd, she could hear murmurs erupting. "What're you wearing?" she heard someone yell. Rush tightened his hold on her, as if to offer more support.

The announcer continued. "Elle Worthington is the daughter of Malcolm and Sera Worthington. She is being escorted by Edward Kingsley."

She felt Rush go stiff.

A rustle went through the crowd.

"Excuse me, folks, there must've been a last-minute change. Correction, Elle Worthington is being escorted by..." a slight pause... "another guy."

Rush chuckled and whispered. "How appropriate... _the other guy_. I guess I'm getting pretty good at being a stand-in for Edward."

His barbed comment found its mark, and her face went hot.

They took their designated place in the homecoming court and stood waiting for the twelfth grade attendant and homecoming queen to take their places. Lydia Davenport walked up to Elle and placed a bouquet of roses in her arms. "Cool outfit," she murmured appraisingly.

"Thanks," Elle said, surprised.

Rush gave her an _I–told-you-so_ smile.

A few minutes later, when all of the court had arrived, the crowd stood and applauded. Elle saw Sera and Josselyn, sitting in the center section of the bleachers near the front. She clenched her jaw. They didn't even have the decency to stand. Josselyn had a mortified expression, and Sera— _no surprise here_ —was scowling. Rush noticed them too. He flashed them a brilliant smile and then removed his arm from Elle's long enough to grasp her hand and link his fingers through hers. He lifted their clasped hand to the crowd. The applause increased. She marveled at how comfortable he was in front of a crowd. Judging from his acid-washed jeans and gray hoody, she'd pegged him as more of the rebel type. He was more complex than she gave him credit for. He winked at her, and she smiled in return. Then without warning, he took her in his arms, dipped her backwards, and planted a full kiss on her lips. The crowd went wild, but Elle barely noticed because she was too consumed with the heat of humiliation that was burning through her. He lifted her back up and gave her a triumphant smile, which she returned with a scathing glare.

"You had no right," she whispered through clenched teeth. Rather than answering, he smiled and waved at the crowd. Thanks to that little stunt, he now had them eating out of his hand, the jerk!

"Smile, Elle," he prompted.

"I could claw your eyes out for this!" she muttered.

"Fine, just do it with a smile," he replied, nodding his head and making eye contact with people.

She was forced to comply. Her face felt as though it would crack under the pressure, but she smiled anyway. She smiled and waved until they finally made their way off the field, at which point she spun around and got up in his face. "How dare you! You had no right."

He raised an eyebrow, and a hint of amusement lit his eyes. "You said you owed me, _friend_. I was just collecting the debt."

"What?" _The nerve!_ She slapped him hard, feeling the satisfying _whack_ as her palm hit his face. Then she turned and stomped off.

"Give Prince Charming my regards," he called after her. "And tell him that's the last time I'm standing in for him!"

## Chapter Three

# The Horrid Stepsister

Elle awoke the next morning to the smell of burnt toast. She covered her head with the pillow and turned over. She slept another five minutes before the events of the previous night tumbled over her. She let out a groan and dragged herself out of bed.

After Rush's kiss, things had gone from bad to worse. She'd ridden home with Sera and Josselyn, with Sera lecturing her nonstop about Rush. "I'll not have one of my daughters being the scandal of the town," she said. "That boy caused a spectacle. It's a wonder you'll ever be able to show your face again. You need to be more careful about the company you keep. Talk around town is that he's a druggie, and his mother's some nightclub singer."

She frowned. Rush a druggie? She seriously doubted that.

Sera went on and on until Elle had listened to all she could stomach. "Well, I wouldn't have been with Rush in the first place if you hadn't gone off and left me."

Sera shook her head. Her expression became wounded. "Is that what you think? Do you really think we would just go off and leave you? Really, Elle, I'm disappointed. This is a new low, even for you."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. You tried to wake me, but I wouldn't budge," she muttered.

"Don't get smart with me."

Nothing she said was going to make a difference, so she just rolled her eyes, turned and stared out the window at the night, as dark and empty as she felt.

Her mind came back to the present as she pulled on a pair of jeans and sweatshirt. She sat down in front of the mirror and began running a brush through her tangled hair. She hated how puffy her eyes were, proof she'd slept poorly the night before. She leaned forward, critically examining the bags under her eyes, and then jumped back with a start. The reflection had winked. She shook her head and stared at herself. "Not this again!" She looked straight at the mirror, daring her reflection to do something different. She stared so long that she began to laugh. How silly she must look, sitting here, glaring at her own reflection. It was a mirror. A silly mirror, nothing more.

Josselyn came into the room.

Elle scowled. "Don't you ever knock?"

She plopped down on the bed. "Dear Elle, forever worshiping yourself in the mirror." She wrinkled her nose. "Don't you ever get tired of staring at yourself?"

Elle started to fire back an insult but thought better of it. "What do you want?" she said flatly.

"Oh nothing. Only to tell you that was quite the show you put on last night." She clapped her hands. "Bravo." She flashed a contemptuous smile. "Some outfit."

Elle turned and met her gaze full on. Josselyn was a snake. It hurt to know that she could be so cruel. "I know what you did to my dresses."

Josselyn's lips formed a pout and she started picking at her fingernails. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, whatever." She stood. "I try to come in and check on you, and this is what I get."

Elle raised an eyebrow. "You can cut the crap, Josselyn, it's just you and me in the room." She gave Josselyn a plaintive look. "Have things always been this awful between us? Not only are we stepsisters now, we've been cousins our whole lives,

Josselyn's face fell a notch, but then she gathered it back up quickly. "You taught me everything I know, Sis." Her voice was dripping in venom. "You may not remember who you are, but I certainly do." She lifted her chin in the air. "You just remember that the next time you try to get all chummy."

She locked eyes with her. "I'm sorry, Josselyn. For everything I did to you. You're right, I don't remember the person I was, but I'm trying to be different now."

For a moment, Josselyn's expression grew soft, but in the time it took to draw a breath, it went stone cold. "No, I won't fall for that. I don't know what game you're playing, but it won't work. If I've learned anything over the years, it's that you can't be trusted."

"But—"

Josselyn cut her off. "I guess you're with Rush now," she said brightly, running a finger over the dresser. "Poor Edward, he'll be devastated. Thank goodness he'll have me around to pick up the pieces." She frowned. "Must I always pick up the pieces after you, Elle?" She shook her head, making a clucking sound with her tongue. "Well, ta ta! Have to go." She scampered out of the room and closed the door before Elle could reply.

Elle gritted her teeth and groaned in frustration. When that didn't help, she threw the brush against the door. Had she really been that horrible, or was Josselyn toying with her? How had she managed to live in this house all of these years? No wonder she'd lost her memory and was imagining things. She looked in the mirror and scowled at her reflection. "What're you looking at?" A part of her half-expected her reflection to react, but nothing. She shook her head, disgusted with herself for thinking such crazy thoughts. It was a mirror!

Her stomach growled, and she realized that she couldn't sit in this room all day, staring at the mirror. Besides, her dad was home, and she wanted to spend some time with him. Her heart grew a little lighter at the thought.

Elle was rounding the corner of the kitchen when she saw her. She stopped. Sera was dumping an entire box of chocolate into the garbage. Then she picked up an envelope off the counter, tore it in half, and threw it away. Something... instinct... prompted Elle to step back so that she wouldn't be seen. She waited until Sera left the kitchen before going to the garbage can. The chocolates looked expensive and were beautifully decorated. The box was a metallic brown with a wide pink ribbon. She had the fleeting thought that maybe Sera had received an unsolicited gift from a secret admirer, but then she laughed at the thought. What suitor in his right mind would admire Sera? She saw the two pieces of the envelope. The paper was milky white and embossed, very expensive. She grabbed the pieces and then heard movement, so she stuffed them into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. She turned, relieved to see her dad standing at the counter rather than Sera.

"Good morning, sunshine." He reached for a bowl.

"Morning, Dad."

She went to him and gave him a hug. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back." He handed her a bowl and pushed a box of cereal in her direction.

A moment later, they were seated across from each other, eating. Her heart dropped when he reached for the newspaper and began leafing through the pages. Couldn't he see that she needed a minute of his time? She cleared her throat. "Um, Dad..."

He gave her a rushed smile and then looked back at the paper. "Yes?"

"I was thinking that maybe the two of us could spend some time together today. Maybe we could go have some lunch, or go to the mall."

He shook his head. "I would love to, honey, but I have a meeting at the office at 10:00."

She made a face. "But it's Sunday, and you just got home."

He swallowed a bite of cereal and put his spoon down. "I know, but the McCormick group is coming in on Monday, and I've got to make sure the presentation is ready."

She let out a sigh. "Fine." She plunked her spoon into the bowl and pushed away from the table. She'd suddenly lost her appetite.

This time he looked—really looked at her. "Are you okay?" He motioned. "Sit down, and let's talk about this."

She forced a smile. "Yeah..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's just so hard living here with Sera and Josselyn."

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It was hard to fathom that she couldn't remember anything at all about her own father. Had he always been this distant and rushed? She studied him, trying to find something that they both had in common. _His hair_. She figured that in his younger years his blonde hair had been nearly the color of her own, but it was faded now and thinning on top. His temples were streaked with gray. Still, he was an attractive man in an intellectual sort of way. "Elle, we've been through this over and over."

"We have? I'm sorry, I don't remember..."

He reached for her hand. "I know, honey. I know you've been through a lot, but you need to give Sera a chance. If you could only see her the way I see her."

"She's mean to me, Dad." She blinked back the tears. "Josselyn ruined my dresses and then they left me here last night."

"Honey, Sera told me what happened."

"Really?"

"Yes, they tried to wake you, but they couldn't. Sera was afraid you took one of those sleeping pills Dr. Marcourt prescribed. Those things knock you out cold. Sera was only looking out for your best interest. She thought you needed the rest."

She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "What?" Her voice went hoarse with emotion. "You believe her?"

"Well, of course I believe her. She's my wife."

She could see the disappointment settling in his eyes, building a wall between them—a wall that was impossible to climb. Despite her best effort to stay the tears, one escaped and rolled down her cheek. "I'm not making this up, Dad."

He took a deep breath and she could tell from the way his eyes shifted back and forth that she was making him nervous. He didn't know what to say to her, so he glanced at his watch instead. "Look, we'll have to talk about this later. I've got to go." He leaned over the table and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'll be back after a while. Chin up, princess." He rushed out the door, and a moment later, she heard the garage door open.

She sat there numbly, staring at the soggy cereal. Absently, she took the spoon and stirred it around in the milk. Then she remembered the torn envelope. She pulled out the two pieces and frowned. The seal was still intact. Sera had ripped it and thrown it away without opening it. She removed the paper from each half and placed them side-by-side. The letter was written in a sprawling cursive that was hard to read. She looked at the beginning and gasped. The letter was written to her.

> _Elle,_

> _We need to talk. Come to The Chocolate Fountain today at 1:00. If you don't have a ride, you can take the bicycle in the garage. As you're still lacking your memory, let me remind you that the shop is located at the corner of Brooks and Hamilton. Ride toward the center of town, going toward the courthouse. You can't miss it. Oh, and a word to the wise: Don't tell Sera you're coming to see me._

> _See you soon, dear._

> _\--A_

* * *

Elle read the letter again, trying to remember if anyone mentioned a person named "A." She chewed on her lip. Maybe it was a nickname. This mysterious "A" had sent her the chocolate, too. Knowing that Sera tried to destroy all evidence of the letter and the chocolate made her all the more curious. The sprawling handwriting was too feminine to have been written by a guy, and the language was old-fashioned. She'd called her "dear." And had warned her not to tell Sera where she was going. She picked up the pieces and shoved them back into her sweatshirt. A thought struck her. How did "A" know there was a bike in the garage? Was there? There was only one way to find out.

Elle turned on the light and gasped for there across the garage, hanging on a rack, was a coral-colored bike with a large white seat and matching white basket with daisies attached. Really? This was the bike she was supposed to take? It looked like an antique. A hysterical giggle bubbled in her throat. This was getting stranger by the minute. She closed the garage door and walked back into the kitchen. Well, at least she would have something interesting to do today besides lie around and dread going back to school the following day.

Edward had neither called nor texted, but she'd been receiving texts from Rae all morning demanding to know how Elle could let Rush kiss her in front of the entire school. She put the bowl in the sink and looked over at Rush's house. The blinds were closed. For a second, she wondered what he was up to today and then squelched the thought. All night long, she'd tossed and turned, thinking about that wretched kiss. In the light of day, she could see things more clearly. The fact of the matter was that she wasn't really that ticked at him for kissing her. (After all, she'd thought about kissing him earlier.) It was _how_ he kissed her—taking something that wasn't his, so he could prove a point. He'd done it to get even with her about Edward. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with this. The memory loss was hard enough, and now she would have the whole school breathing down her neck. She hugged her arms. Edward would probably never speak to her again and that was fine with her. He'd deserted her last night. She didn't owe him a thing.

And Rush... she vowed then and there that she would stay as far away from him as she could get. Even as she thought the words, an unbidden sensation covered her, and she thought about how his lips had felt on hers. He was obviously an experienced kisser, but there was more. Something else was bothering her, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. She was almost to her room when the realization came—for one small moment, there in his arms, his lips on hers, she'd experienced the one thing that she'd been craving—the one thing that had evaded her—the feeling of belonging. The feeling that somehow despite everything around her, everything would be okay.

## Chapter Four

# Adele

Just as the note said, The Chocolate Fountain was located at the corner of Brooks and Hamilton. Hamilton was the main road going through town where clusters of shops and other businesses were located, and Brooks marked the start of an old residential neighborhood where all of the houses had been grand in their day with the artfully painted brick and wood siding, large windows, and wide porches. Of all the houses that Elle could see, The Chocolate Fountain was the grandest of them all with its salmon-colored, brick siding and massive porch with the intricate, wooden handrails painted a gleaming white. No detail had been left undone. The gables and windows were trimmed in a cheery turquoise, and she could see lace curtains on the large windows that wrapped around the ornate turret. The house reminded Elle of a decorated sugar cookie or one of those Painted Ladies in San Francisco. She stopped. Had she been to San Francisco? Funny how her brain picked up on insignificant memories, when she couldn't remember any of the important things.

Elle walked up the steps, admiring the colorful pots of yellow and purple mums on the porch. It really was a show place. She opened the door and stepped inside to the vacant sitting area. The musky smell of chocolate was intoxicating. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the dozen or so ice-cream parlor tables and chairs, artfully arranged. Various styles of plush chairs were dotted around the room. On the back wall facing a large fireplace, was a more intimate seating area with a comfortable-looking couch and chairs. She looked up and was surprised to see a chandelier much like the one in her room, except it was about three times larger and dripping in glittering jewels. The walls were painted the same pale pink shade as her room. She wrinkled her nose. _Weird_. She looked to the left. There in the adjacent room were the glass, bakery cases displaying various chocolates. Also, there were brownies, cookies, and pastries. It was truly an awesome sight—a chocolate lover's dream. Elle's stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She walked up to the stately, wooden counter and cash register. Was "A" going to meet her here? It was 1:10. Surely "A" remembered that she was coming. She looked past the counter to the open door behind it but couldn't see anything.

"Hello! Is anyone there?"

No answer.

"Hello?"

"I'm coming," a voice called.

A middle-aged woman rounded the corner. When she saw Elle, recognition lit her face, and she smiled. "You made it," she said warmly, peering over her sea foam blue spectacles.

Elle looked at her closely. This was "A?" She was about medium height and build. Although, it was hard to tell for sure because she was wearing a soft green dress so loose it seemed to flow around her as she walked. She had shoulder-length hair the color of taffy, and it was curly and untamed. Her open smile with deep dimples on either side was her best feature. She might've been pretty once but had an air of indifference about her that suggested she was too concerned about weightier matters to worry with vanity. Before Elle realized what was happening, the woman stepped around the counter and embraced her in a tight hug. A dainty, floral smell enveloped her. A strange tingle akin to static electricity went through her body, and she could almost remember something. When the woman let go, the feeling fled.

"Do I know you?" Elle stammered, pushing her hair out of her face.

The woman studied her closely. "You don't remember?"

She dropped her hands to her side. "No." She looked away from the woman to the large, cuckoo clock on the wall. There was something ominous about the way it ticked back and forth... back and forth. Her life was trickling away with every tick of the clock, and she couldn't remember any of it.

The woman laughed and clasped her hands together. "Splendid!"

For a split second Elle thought she'd heard her incorrectly. "Did you just say _splendid_?"

"A" tucked a curl behind her ear. "Yes, Elle, I did."

She made a face. "But I just told you that I can't remember you."

"I know, isn't it marvelous?" She flashed a wide smile.

Was this woman nuts, or was this some kind of a joke? Her eyes narrowed. "I don't think it's the slightest bit marvelous," she shot back, not bothering to hide the resentment in her voice. "In fact, I'd say it pretty much sucks! I can't remember anything about myself. Ever since the accident, my life has been a big blank." Elle could feel her cheeks glowing hot.

"A" waved the outburst away with the flick of her hand and a kindly smile. "Oh, I suppose that part has been a nuisance, but now you get to start fresh."

Elle was trying to decide whether to laugh or tell her off when the woman took her by the arm. "Come, let's go to the study. I've made us some salted caramel hot chocolate." She gave her a knowing look. "Your favorite! Although you don't remember. I made some special white and milk chocolate truffles just for you."

They went up the winding staircase to the second story and down a long hall before stopping in front of a heavy wooden door. The woman opened it and motioned for Elle to enter. From the moment she stepped in, she had the peculiar sensation of stepping into another world. Thick woolen rugs covered polished hardwood floors. Tall bookcases towered to the arched ceiling that was open with massive exposed beams. There must have been thousands of books and figurines lining the shelves. A sliding, wooden ladder was attached to the bookshelves to allow one to reach the uppermost books. She forgot her earlier frustration. "Wow! This is incredible," she murmured.

The woman seemed pleased.

She walked over to a bookshelf and began reading the titles. _Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Rapunzel_. She turned. "These are all fairytales." She looked across the room to a round table that had a model of a house resting in the center of it. From where she was standing it looked to be a replica of a gingerbread house with two figurines in front of it—a boy and a girl. She pointed. "Hansel and Gretel?"

The woman nodded. "Let's go over and sit by the fire." They walked over to the vacant fireplace that looked as though it hadn't had a fire in quite some time. Was the woman planning on making a fire? There was no wood in the fireplace. "Have a seat." The woman pointed at the green velvet wingback chair that was facing the fireplace. Elle sat down, and the woman took her seat in the matching chair. Directly in front of them, between the chairs and the fireplace, was a large ottoman covered in a detailed tapestry. The rich greens and reds suggested that it might've been a forest scene, but Elle couldn't tell for sure. Resting on the ottoman was a silver tray containing two mugs of hot chocolate, piled high with whipped cream. Beside the hot chocolate was a china plate decorated with delicate pink flowers and green leaves. There were two truffles in the center of it—one white and one milk chocolate. Her eyes went to the wood mantel. She marveled at the detailed carvings. Some looked to be of fruits and vegetables, others might've been faces, but the wood carver had deliberately left the lines so vague that it was hard to tell for sure what the shapes were.

Elle looked back at the woman and was startled to see that while she'd been studying the décor, the woman had been studying her. She twisted in her seat. The woman's open scrutiny was making her uncomfortable. "You're 'A,'" she blurted.

She looked surprised. "A?" She reached and turned on the antique glass floor lamp that was next to the chair. It cast a warm glow over the room.

"Your letter was signed 'A.'"

"Oh, I suppose I did sign it that way. I was trying to be discreet," she chuckled, and her emerald eyes twinkled with amusement, "so that Sera wouldn't know the note had come from me."

"She tore it up without even opening it. I happened to come into the kitchen and see her, so I fished it out of the garbage."

The woman's face flushed. "There's not a smidgen of honor in that wretched woman's body. Imagine someone having the nerve to throw away _my_ chocolate."

Elle couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling in her throat. She was starting to like 'A' more and more. She'd lost count of the amount of times she'd thought nearly the same thing over the past couple of weeks. There was something cathartic about hearing someone else say it. "She is wretched, isn't she?"

The woman laughed. "My name is Adele."

Adele. The name fit her. "Do you mind if I ask how we know each other?"

Adele reached for a mug of hot chocolate. "I'm your aunt."

"What?" Elle leaned forward in her seat. "My aunt? No one told me that I have an aunt."

She took a sip of hot chocolate. "To hear him tell it, I'm his older sister. Or at least that's how the story goes." She rolled her eyes and looked upward. "Sister? To that soft piece of fruit? Hah! You'd think that Merek could've come up with a better cover than that."

Elle shook her head. "I don't know why they didn't tell me about you. And why was Sera throwing away your invitation?"

"So many questions." She cocked her head as if she were musing something over in her mind. "Let's see, where to begin... where to begin. Shall I begin with the book? Is that a good idea?" She looked to the ceiling. "I'm not sure she's ready."

"What book? What am I ready... or not ready for?" she asked, but Adele kept talking to herself, as though she'd not heard a word Elle had said.

"Of course, if I give her a truffle..." She took another drink from the mug and held up a finger. "Yes, a truffle might do the trick, but it will only work if she's ready. Of course, once things are set into motion, there's no going back." She set the mug on the tray and began drumming her fingers on the arms of the chair. "Is she ready?" She looked directly at Elle as if she were sizing her up. "Oh, dear. How did I get myself mixed up in this?" She glared at the ceiling. "How indeed, Merek?"

Elle's heart dropped. Adele was crazy. That's why Sera had thrown away the invitation. That's why no one mentioned her. Disappointment settled over her. How nice it would've been to have an aunt that, unlike Sera, was kind. And for all her eccentricity, she could tell that Adele was that.

"Go ahead," Adele prompted. "Drink some of your hot chocolate. I made it especially for you."

It took Elle a moment to realize that Adele was talking to her rather than to herself. She reached for the mug and took a drink. To say that it was delicious would've been a gross understatement. It was amazing! And, it was hot! Something wasn't adding up. The mugs were sitting on the ottoman. From the looks of things, they'd been sitting on the ottoman the entire time that Adele had come out to greet her. "This is hot."

Adele nodded. "Just the way you like it."

Yes, she did like it hot, although she hadn't known that about herself until this very moment. "But how? We talked downstairs and then by the bookshelves. How did you keep it hot?" She lifted up the cup to see the bottom, thinking perhaps it was battery operated, but it was a plain cup.

"This is all still a bit of a shock for you, but it will all become clear soon... well, at least a portion of it will be." She looked directly at Elle. "I'm sorry I had to take away your memories. There was no other way, you see. You were going down the wrong path. And you were turning out..." She started chewing on her lower lip. "Well, you were starting to develop a bit of a mean streak. Of course that's understandable, considering you've been living with that horrible woman and her wretched daughter all of these years. Still, something had to be done."

Elle arched an eyebrow, her senses going on full alert. "Wait a minute, you're saying that you took away my memories?"

"I want you to understand that it wasn't out of meanness, dear. I did it because I care about your future."

A furrow appeared between Elle's brows. This was ridiculous! Why was Adele saying such crazy things? "I fell. It was an accident. You didn't cause it, it was a stupid accident," she finished, growing more frustrated by the minute.

She patted Elle's hand. "Of course it was, dear." Adele put down her cup and hugged her arms. "It's drafty in here. We need a nice warm fire to warm the bones. When you get my age, the blood doesn't circulate so well... and then the joints tend to ache a bit, especially just before a storm. There's a storm brewing!" She shivered. "The sooner we get on with this the better."

Okay, she was old and more than a little crazy, but there was something endearing about her, and the hot chocolate was outstanding. It was spreading warmth through her that started at her toes and was working its way up.

Adele made a motion with her hands and then thrust them at the fire. A loud _whoosh_ went through the room and suddenly there was a crackling fire where the empty space had been. Elle jumped and spilled hot chocolate on her jeans. Even though it was hot, she barely noticed. She jumped up, fear drumming in her breast. "There's a fire!"

"Yes, I thought it might help take the edge off, dear."

"But there was nothing there, and then you waved your hands in the air and then... um... I'm not sure what just happened." She swallowed, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes had witnessed. A cold sweat covered her. She was going crazy. First, the mirror and now this. She was going crazy like Adele! A silent scream was building in her throat. She put down the mug. "I have to go."

"No, don't go. We need to talk."

Elle rushed past her, practically running. "I have to go!"

"Oh, puddle wax!" Adele muttered, wringing her hands. "What to do?"

Elle was almost to the door when it slammed shut. She frantically turned the knob, but it wouldn't budge. Left with no other option, she turned and faced Adele, her back plastered against the closed door. "P-please... let me go."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Elle," Adele said gently. "Come back over and sit down, and I'll explain everything."

"I don't know." She started shaking her head back and forth.

Adele held out her arms. "Come."

She had no choice. Her feet started moving, and there was nothing she could do but comply. It was as though some unseen force was pulling her in. She sat down in the chair, her heart pounding. "Okay, say what you want to say." She couldn't stop the tear from rolling down her cheek.

Adele sat down and reached for the silver tray. She held it out to Elle. "Here, I want you to eat the white truffle. It will help you understand."

Her heart was pounding so hard that it was making her dizzy. "Is it poison?" she squeaked.

Adele laughed. "Heavens no, child. Eat it," she urged.

Elle reached for the truffle. Tentatively, she lifted it to her mouth.

"Go ahead, eat."

She took a bite. It was magnificent, even better than the hot chocolate. It was smooth and rich. She ate the rest in two bites.

"It's good, yes?" Adele peered at her over the spectacles.

"It's the best I've ever eaten." She eyed the remaining truffle. "Do you want me to eat the milk chocolate one too?"

Adele chuckled. "Not yet, there's something I want to show you first." She arose from her chair and walked over to an oil painting depicting a mother and daughter. They were wearing medieval clothing. The mother was resting on a red velvet settee. She had one hand on her daughter's shoulder and the other on her flaxen hair, as if she were caressing it. The painting had an ornate, gold frame that looked antique and very expensive. "One of my favorites. You may recognize it."

Elle looked at it. It was hard to make out the details from across the room, but something about the curve of the mother's neck was familiar. A part of her felt as though she should know something about the painting. It was right there on the edge of her consciousness, but for the life of her, she couldn't grasp it.

"It's a portrait of Cinderella and her mother," Adele explained. "It was painted a few months before Cinderella's mother died."

"Are you talking about the fairytale Cinderella?"

"Uh huh."

Strange how she'd instinctively known the painting was of a mother and daughter.

Adele carefully removed the painting, revealing a safe with a combination lock. She opened it and retrieved an old book with leather binding. She walked back to where Elle was sitting and took her seat. She held the book out for Elle to see, all the while rubbing her hand over the rough surface. "Hello, old friend," she said reverently.

Elle looked closely at it. "It almost looks..." She stopped, not wanting to give voice to the thoughts swirling in her head.

"It almost looks what?" Adele prompted.

"Like a face," Elle admitted.

Adele gave her a broad smile that was tinged with hope. "You're starting to see," she said, excitement making her voice go husky. "Elle, I want you to meet an old friend... a dear friend... Bree." She tapped the book with the tip of her finger.

Elle's eyes widened. "Bree? You act as though the book is alive." She paused. "Is it?"

"Lives can take on many forms, Elle. This one happens to be in the form of a book."

_Okay_... she was sorry she asked. "Why do you lock it in a safe? It's not like it's going to jump up and run off or something."

Adele laughed. "Bree does have a stubborn streak, although I don't think he would leave me, would you Bree?" Elle looked at the book. A part of her half-expected it to answer. Thankfully, it didn't.

"There are those that would try and take Bree." She looked over her shoulder and spoke in low tones. "Evil knows many faces. Beware of those you cannot trust. Those that would cause you harm." She peered over her spectacles at Elle. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

A sense of foreboding lifted goose bumps on her arms, and she shivered involuntarily. "I think so," Elle said slowly, even though she didn't have a clue what Adele was talking about.

Adele waved a hand in the air. "You'll understand soon enough, I suppose." She positioned the book in her lap and leaned forward, eagerness shimmering in her eyes. "Are you ready?"

Elle nodded.

"Okay, here goes. Bree, what will you choose to show her? Bree will only show you that which you are ready to see," Adele explained.

At a loss for words, Elle simply nodded.

She opened the first page, and a blast of cold air rushed though the room causing the fire to flicker. For an instant, Elle thought she heard a groan coming from the book.

"What was that?" Her eyes widened as she looked to Adele for an answer.

"Stop being dramatic, Bree." Adele opened the book and turned to the first page. "Tell me what you see."

Elle stared intently at the book. "I don't see anything. It's blank."

The corners of Adele's mouth turned down in a frown. "You don't see anything?"

Elle shook her head.

"Bree, that's enough!" she said sharply. "I tell you she's ready. You need to trust me on this." She turned to Elle. "I want you to close your eyes."

"What?" The last thing she wanted to do was to close her eyes. At this point, she didn't know what Adele had in mind, but it couldn't be good.

"Trust me," Adele said, a hint of exasperation coating her voice.

As if she had a choice. The door had slammed shut in her face and locked, and she'd walked back and sat down against her will. Who was she kidding? Adele was calling all of the shots. "Okay," Elle huffed.

"I want you to relax. Focus on my voice. You will only focus on my voice. Nothing else. Clear your mind. Let all of the problems go. Let everything go. You are as light as a feather... floating. Think of the truffle and how it tasted in your mouth. Let it fill your senses."

Elle was more relaxed... she was floating... there was a sunny field full of daisies, and she was running to something... someone...

"Open your eyes," Adele instructed.

The room came into focus, and Elle was surprised that she'd been able to relax.

"Now look at the book," Adele coaxed. "What do you see?" Her voice was calm—tranquil.

Elle looked at first the page. It was blank, but then something, a movement caught her eye.

"What do you see?"

"I see letters, a type of fancy script. It looks old."

"And what do the letters say?"

Elle leaned forward and peered. "I can't make them out. Wait a minute, I see pictures. Vivid, bright pictures."

"Focus on the pictures," Adele urged.

"I see a house. A big, beautiful, stone house with lots of windows and a large wooden door. It looks like something out of a fairytale." A feeling of nostalgia swept over her. The grass looked so green and inviting, and she could almost feel the sun on her face. "I see a road that runs up to the house," Elle said excitedly. "There are horses!"

"Anything else?"

Elle stopped. "Yes, I see a girl. There's a girl walking up the road, carrying..." She looked closer. "I believe she's carrying two buckets full of red apples."

"Go into the picture," Adele urged. "Become one with it."

"I see her face! She's crying."

"Why is she crying?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"Why is she crying, Elle?"

"I don't know!" Elle's voice rose. Adele's questions were becoming a nuisance. She was floating away from her—floating into the picture.

"Yes, you do, Elle. You know why she's crying."

A forgotten sorrow filled her breast, and suddenly she knew. "She's crying because..." Her voice broke. "She's crying because she misses her mother."

"What is her name?" The voice was little more than a whisper in her mind. She focused instead on the way the warm breeze lifted the ends of her hair and tickled her nose. "The name. What is her name?" She was walking on the dusty road, the sour scent of apples pungent against the sweet smelling grass.

"Her name is Cinderella," she breathed as she lost herself in the picture.

## Chapter Five

# The Forgotten Girl

The apples were starting to get heavy. Needing to rest, Cinderella placed them down in a grassy spot beside the road and turned her attention to the white daisies growing wild in the field. A particular patch of daisies atop a gentle sloping hill caught her attention, and she left the apples and skipped over to them. She plucked a daisy and brought it to her nose. From a distance, looking out over the field, the daisies looked like fancy maidens wearing their finest caps. She rubbed a hand down the rough-spun frock that had faded to a dull brown. For a fleeting moment she wondered what it would be like to have a soft, beautiful dress like the blue one her stepmother had sewn for Josselyn, but alas, she was but a mere servant, and fine clothes were only for the nobility. Despondency flooded over her until a flock of birds flying overhead caught her attention. She raised her arms up to them and began twirling in a circle. She hummed a lullaby that her mother used to sing, but the words sank deep into her heart. She was unprepared for the hurt that washed over her. First her mother, and then her father. It was nearly too much to bear. She fell to the ground and began weeping in long, gulping sighs. No one understood how she felt. She was alone. If only she could make her stepmother love her. What she would give for an accepting smile or kind embrace. A thought came to her mind, causing her to wipe away the tears. Her stepmother had ordered her to go to the market to sell the apples. The last time she went to town, she was only able to sell one bucket. Seraphina had been sorely disappointed. Cinderella shuddered, remembering the way Seraphina's mouth had turned down into a deep frown. "I'm sorry, Cinderella, but there isn't enough broth for you tonight," she had said. "Unfortunately, when your father died, God rest his soul, he left us heavily in debt. Much like you, he lacked the intelligence and good sense to make sound business decisions. It's because of him that we're nearly destitute, and it's because of you that we don't have enough broth tonight." Cinderella had gone to bed sick at heart, her stomach churning in hunger. She sat up. Today, she would sell all of the apples, and on this evening she would feast on warm broth and crusty bread. She would show Seraphina that she was worth something! In a small way, she could help make up for the mistakes her father had made.

She stood, dusted off her clothes, and began walking back to the apples. She heard the laughter before she saw them. She let out a cry of dismay and began running. The boys from the village had dumped out the apples. Two of them were stomping them flat and the other two were pelting them at each other. She ran in the midst of them and began flogging their arms. "Stop!" she shrieked. "You're ruining my apples!"

The largest of the boys pushed her to the ground. "Look at what we have here. The milk maiden is worried about her apples."

Cinderella glared up at him. "You have no right!" Her eyes went to the ruined apples all bruised and smashed. She'd spent all morning gathering them. The sun was now high in the sky. There was no time to gather more and take them to the market. Her eyes filled with tears.

"The maiden is crying." He made a sucking sound with his lips. "She needs her mama." He gave one of her braids a cruel yank.

"Stop!" she cried.

He bent down and grabbed her shoulders. His putrid face was a fraction away from hers, so close that she could see the pores on his oily nose. His eyes took on a peculiar light. "You're pretty," he sneered, "for a milk maid. How about giving me a kiss?"

Her nose crinkled in disgust. "You smell like a pig sty," she said backing away. This brought chortles of laughter from the other boys.

His jaw tensed. "Filthy maid! Do you not understand to whom you speak? I am a squire in training. Any maiden would be honored to give me a kiss. That which you do not give, I will take, then rub your face in cow dung for the insult!" Roughly, he pulled her to him. Panic overtook her, and she clawed him across the cheek, drawing blood. He let out a yelp and backed away, holding his face. When he looked at his hands and saw blood, his face turned purple. "I'll teach you..." He raised a fist, and she braced herself for the impact.

"Lucas, enough!"

She looked up. One of the boys had caught the brute's fist and was holding

him back.

"Leave her be. You've had your entertainment, and now it's over!"

The brute turned on the boy. "Do you dare question me?" The brute stood

a head taller than the boy and was about two sizes larger, but the boy remained undaunted. "You will leave her alone!" he said firmly, "or I will be forced to teach you a lesson you'll not soon forget." The brute lunged at the boy, and they both went sprawling onto the ground where they rolled in the dirt, punching. After a moment, they got to their feet, breathing hard.

"You would ruin a friendship over a worthless milk maid?" the brute said.

"No human being is worthless. She has given us no offense. We are the ones

at fault. We destroyed her apples, and then you attempted to do far worse."

The brute threw a punch, but the boy easily sidestepped it. He circled behind

him and caught him in a chokehold, sending the brute to his knees.

"Do you yield?" the boy said.

The only sounds coming out of the brute's mouth were gulping and grunting

as he struggled in vain to get free.

"I'll ask only once more. Do you yield?"

Gasps. "Yea!" came the strangled reply.

"By honor of the King, give me your word!"

"Yea, I give you my word!"

He tightened the hold. "Swear it!"

"I swear!" he croaked.

He released him. The brute sat on the ground, gasping for breath and

clutching his neck. He looked up at the boy, hatred burning in his eyes. "You will pay for this!"

The boy laughed. "Obviously."

He turned to the other two boys. "Take Lucas back to the castle where he can

nurse his wounds... err... pride."

Cinderella watched in eerie fascination as they immediately complied with

the order. She'd assumed the brute, Lucas, was the one in charge, but she was mistaken.

The boys grabbed Lucas under his arms and helped him to his feet. As soon

as he could stand, he pushed them away.

They started walking when one of the boys turned. "Rushton? Aren't you coming?"

He shook his head. "Nay, I'm going to try and right the wrong we've done to

this good maiden."

The boy shrugged and they continued walking away.

He turned, gave her a curt bow, and then held out his hand. "Allow me, mi' lady."

She scoffed and refused his hand. "I can manage on my own." She got to her

feet and shot him a hateful glare. "You and your friends have already done enough!"

He seemed to duck a little beneath the tongue-lashing and had the decency to

look embarrassed. "I'm sorry, mi' lady. We were just having some fun, and it got out of hand."

"Yea, at my expense! My apples are ruined." Angry tears filled her eyes as she

started picking up the few apples that were salvageable.

"What were you going to do with the apples?"

"Sell them. I was going to sell them, but thanks to you and your heathen

companions that's no longer possible!" There would be no going to the market and no apples sold, hence no supper.

She saw his expression soften as he reached into his tunic and pulled out a

handful of coins. He held them out to her. "Here, take these for your trouble."

Her eyes widened. Two schillings? That was more than she could earn in a

month selling apples. Seraphina would be so pleased. They would have enough to buy a chicken and some cheese to go along with the vegetables in the garden. She reached for the coins and then stopped. "I can't take them. It's too much." The words cut as they came through her lips.

He placed the coins in her palm and clasped his hands around hers. "Take them."

She was so unaccustomed to kindness that she couldn't fathom that he would

offer the coins, wanting nothing in return. She eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want in exchange for the coins?"

"Your friendship." And then he smiled a smile so pure that it encapsulated the

cloudless sky and everything else that was good and true on the earth. He bent down and plucked a daisy from the field and held it out to her. "Please accept this daisy as a token of my friendship, maiden...

"Cinderella," she inserted.

"Cinderella, will you allow me to earn your trust?" His eyes held hers, and she

thought about how they were as blue as Suncrest Pond in the height of the summer. He gave her a crooked smile. "Please."

He seemed genuinely sincere, and she needed a friend. How desperately she

needed a friend! A smile played at the corners of her lips as she tentatively reached for the daisy. "I'll think about it."

He laughed. "Fair enough, Lady Cinderella, I can live with that."

"Elle, wake up, dear."

The voice was coming from far away.

"Wake up, Elle."

She opened her eyes. "Where am I?" She looked up to see Adele standing over her with a concerned expression. She sat up in the chair. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep. The fire was so nice and toasty that you dozed off."

The fire. She jumped up as everything came tumbling back. "You started the fire with a flick of your hand, then you opened the book. I went to another land. I was there. I saw the girl and the apples, and him," she finished excitedly.

Adele patted her on the arm. "Take a breath, dear."

Elle looked at her. "What are you? Some kind of wizard?"

Adele gave her a nervous laugh. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You have quite the imagination."

"But I saw it!" Elle protested. She stood. "You know I saw it!"

She held up the silver tray. "I saved you a truffle."

"I'm not hungry," Elle grumbled. "I don't understand why you're acting like none of this happened—"

"Eat the truffle," Adele said. There was an edge to her voice.

She blew out a breath. "Okay." She plopped the milk chocolate truffle in her mouth and practically swallowed it in one gulp. "Now, about what I was saying. I don't know how you did that book thing, but it was cool! Super cool! I can't wait to tell Rae..." A wave of dizziness enveloped her, and she stumbled.

Adele grabbed her arm. "Here, sit down. I'm afraid meeting your aunt for the first time after the accident was a little much for you."

Elle blinked hard and looked at her. "You're Adele, my father's sister."

"Yes, that's right, Elle. I'm your aunt. What do you remember about our visit today?"

"You hugged me when you came around the bakery cases, then we came up here, to your study, where we had hot chocolate." She pointed to the empty cups.

"Very good. See, you remember everything."

"Yes," she said slowly. Why did she have the feeling that she was being manipulated? There was something she was supposed to remember. Something very important, but she couldn't figure out what that was.

"We had a nice little chat about your father. You'll have to come again soon, but now... oh drats, a storm is brewing, a terrible storm. You'd best get home before it hits."

"Okay." Elle stood. "Thanks for the chat."

Adele smiled. "Come back anytime."

As Elle opened the door of The Chocolate Fountain to leave, a tiny black bug crawled out. The bug traveled down the steps and into the grass. A minute later, it transformed into a bird. It lifted its wings and flew upward. When it had gotten a safe distance away so as not to be noticed, the bird transformed into a giant condor. It stretched out its wings and began gathering the air in quick, smooth strokes. The condor was headed back to give a report to the mighty sorceress who had sent him on this errand. There was no time to waste, for it had begun.

## Chapter Six

# Alexander and Wisteria

Alexander looked up at the ominous dark clouds churning overhead. A storm was coming. Hallelujah! It was about time. He was ready. His pulse quickened with a feverish intensity. Waiting for it all to unfold was maddening. How he'd wanted to find her before now to steal a glimpse of her, if only for a moment. Knowing that she was somewhere in the world, living her life independent of him, had been excruciating, but Merek had forbidden him from making first contact. "You must wait until the first segment of the plan is put into motion," he warned. "If you disobey me on this, Alexander, then the entire plan will be null and void. You must follow the rules with exactness. No divergence."

"How will I know when the first segment of the plan is put into motion?" he'd asked.

Merek gave him that enigmatic smile that was both wise and chastising. "Your blood will run blue, and the waters of understanding will issue forth in abundance."

As usual, he couldn't make sense of Merek's cryptic riddle, but this morning, he understood. Merek allowed each of them to bring one token with them to this new realm, and he'd chosen the ring—a token of her love for him, a gift she'd tearfully thrust in his hand all of those years ago, just before he went off to war. He'd worn it on his right finger for many years, but when things between them turned ugly, he removed the ring from his finger and wore it on a chain around his neck. Once he'd entered this world, he placed the ring on his right finger again. It was faded gold with a ruby inset in the center. "The red is a symbol of our love and strength," she'd told him. "The fire will forever burn between us." How right she was. The fire between them forever burned, but the trick was how to avoid getting consumed by it.

This morning, the stone had turned blue. If he had any doubts that the turning of the stone might've been a coincidence, the dry creek running beside his home had mysteriously filled with gushing water. The neighbors were stupefied, as the creek had been dry for as long as any of them could remember, but Alexander knew it was a sign. He left his home this morning feeling more rejuvenated than he had in years. He would now be able to find her. What he didn't expect was for her to find him first.

He'd been preparing for an afternoon staff meeting with the teachers when it happened. The phone on his desk rang. "Principal Kingsley, you have a call on line one. Her name is Wisteria Porter, and she says she's looking for a job. I told her that all of the teaching positions are filled, but she insisted that I let her speak to you," his secretary finished in a crisp, professional tone.

Alexander jumped and nearly spilled his mug of coffee. For a second, he was speechless, as if his throat were trying to swallow his tongue.

"Hello... Principal Kingsley, I can't hear you. Are you there? Would you like for me to take a message?"

"No, I'll take it," he squeaked, and then attempted to clear his throat. "Thank you, Jenna," he finally said, getting control of his voice. "Put her through."

He'd arranged to meet her at his favorite restaurant. Understandably, she was surprised by his request.

"Are you sure it wouldn't be better if I stopped by the school instead?" she asked.

His hands went sweaty when he picked up on the wariness in her tone. He hastily explained that he would be tied up in meetings the remainder of the week but that he had a couple of hours open this evening. When she still seemed hesitant, he added. "Normally, I would suggest that we reschedule for next week, but I have an immediate opening for an English teacher, so I need to speak to you right away." That had sealed the deal. Of course, it was a lie. He didn't need a new English teacher. Miss Caskill had been there for at least twenty years and didn't have any intention of going anywhere else. He would have to figure out a way around that. In the other world, he would've simply gotten rid of her—problem solved. But unfortunately, that was against the rules in this realm, so he would have to think of another way. As he approached the door of the restaurant, he pushed all thoughts of Miss Caskill aside. This night was about him and Wisteria. It was a night for reunions, a night for rejoicing. Of course, Wisteria wouldn't recognize him. He smiled. It was a night to begin anew. "Thank you, Merek," he whispered. "Thank you for giving me a second chance. I won't blow it this time."

Time seemed to slow when he spotted her sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant. Fear gripped him like nothing he'd ever felt, surpassing all wars and battles with men and beast he'd ever fought. He trembled at the realization of how this woman could affect him.

The warm glow of the restaurant lights made her look innocent and vulnerable, the way she had so many years ago when they'd first met... before everything bad happened between them.

Her hand went to her wavy, raven hair. She tossed it over her shoulder as if she knew someone was studying her. He squared his shoulders and took a step closer, then paused and rubbed his clammy hands on the sides of his pants. What if Merek was wrong? What if she recognized him? What if she remembered everything and was just waiting for him to appear so she could exact her revenge? He closed his eyes for a second, chasing the negative thoughts out of his mind. He could do this. He _would_ do this.

Wisteria stood and extended her hand to Alexander when he stopped at her table. "Good evening. You must be Alexander," she said in that husky voice that forever haunted his nights. He could tell from her relaxed expression that she thought they were meeting for the first time. Relief and disappointment flooded through him simultaneously.

"Thank you for coming, Wisteria." He bowed slightly and raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

A puzzled expression flashed across her face and then disappeared. He cleared his throat and cursed himself, instantly recognizing his blunder. It wasn't customary to bow and kiss a woman's hand in this world. Merek had warned him about such things, and at the first sight of Wisteria, he'd forgotten everything.

She sat down, and Alexander took the seat across from her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered with her high cheekbones and arresting, violet eyes, but she was different somehow. He studied the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. She seemed strained—worried perhaps and more subdued in this realm, more like the young Wisteria he once knew, rather than the vengeful woman she'd eventually become. He lost himself for a moment in the memories of the past but then remembered where they were. She didn't know who he was. He would do well to remember that. It was on his lips to apologize for his boldness but then he saw her expression. She was completely unaffected by his scrutiny. In fact, she was studying him as intently as he'd been studying her—almost as though she remembered him. He brushed off the thought. No, his mind was playing tricks on him. She couldn't possibly remember. It was impossible.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but there's something familiar about you."

He chuckled nervously as a rivulet of sweat rolled down his back. "I get that a lot."

She cocked an eyebrow, her full lips curving into a smile. "Do you now."

Heat crept up his neck. She was teasing him, flirting a little. So, the old Wisteria was in there after all. The thought pleased him immensely. He loved her fierce will that was as strong as his, if not more so. In the other world, she'd been his equal in every sense of the word. He watched as she reached for her water glass and took a long drink. When she placed the glass back on the table, he noticed that her hand was dangerously close to his. He had the strong urge to place his hand over hers. It jolted him so much that he balled his hand into a fist and put it under the table—just to be on the safe side. He couldn't lose control. To her, he was the principal of Castle High and a potential employer, nothing more.

He cleared his throat. "So, tell me about your family."

"My husband was killed in a car accident a few years ago, and my son and I have been on our own ever since."

It was all he could do to keep his face expressionless when all the while his heart was leaping with joy. She was single! No attachments! This was going to be easier than he'd thought. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, giving her a sorrowful expression.

"Thank you." She paused. "How about you?"

"Me?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Yes, tell me about your family."

The question caught him off guard. He was so used to asking all of the questions, being in complete control. He had to bite back a smile. "My wife and I got divorced five years ago. She lives in California. I have a teenage son, Edward."

She began fiddling with her napkin. "Is there a significant other?"

His eyes met hers. "You are direct."

She gave him that sultry smile that he loved so much. "I find that life is much easier that way."

He chuckled, relishing in the sophisticated tone of her voice. "Yes, it most certainly is. No, there is no significant other," he said meaningfully. He gave her a longing look, his eyes conveying all that his tongue couldn't.

She looked pleased.

The spell was broken when the server came and placed a glass of water in front of him and then proceeded to take their orders. They became polite strangers once more. Alexander waited until the server left and then asked his next question. "What brought you to Tower Heights?"

"My husband has a brother that lives here. I wanted my son to grow up around family." She shrugged. "And since I have no family to speak of, I decided that we should come here to start over. The past couple of years have been particularly difficult for Rush. Losing a parent is not something that you really ever get over." She gave him a slight smile, tinged with sadness. A shadow crossed his heart. She would never forgive him for what he did in their former life—not if she ever remembered.

She gave him a searching look. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

He forced a smile. He'd always been an open book where Wisteria was concerned. That she would be able to read him so accurately in this world should have come as no surprise. "Of course. I'm just so sorry for your loss," he said mechanically.

Her eyes grew moist, and she looked away.

Her hand was so close. How he longed to comfort her, to protect her. To be the man he could've been if only she'd given him the chance. His eyes met hers, and the age-old flame leapt up between them. The tension was so strong it was nearly palpable. It took every ounce of control he could muster not to throw caution to the wind and sweep her up in his arms. He smiled inwardly when he saw her blink rapidly a couple of times and pull at her collar. She looked embarrassed, as if she had felt it too. Good.

"Where does your son attend school?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Why yours, of course. I thought you knew."

"No... I... um..." Heat crept into his neck. "How long has he been attending Castle High?"

"Since the beginning of the school year. We moved to Tower Heights this past summer."

He felt as though the ground had suddenly given way beneath him. Wisteria had been in the same town since the summer, and he hadn't known. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He smiled at her. "Well, I'm glad that our paths have crossed... finally."

"Yes, me too."

He reached in his coat pocket and removed a sheet of paper containing the résumé she'd emailed to him earlier in the day. He assumed his principal role as he asked her several questions about her experience. A few minutes later, he folded it and put it away. "From the looks of your résumé, I have to say you're a perfect match for the position we have open." They spent a few minutes talking about the particulars of the job. He outlined the compensation package, and then asked her the most important question of all. "Do you think this position would be something you're interested in?" He held his breath as he awaited her answer.

Wisteria smiled. "Yes, I think this is the perfect fit for me and my son."

He let out a breath and a wave of exultation washed over him. "Good, now that business is out of the way, we can enjoy our dinner." He gave her a calculated look, wondering how far he could push things between them. "It's not often that I get the opportunity to have such a..." his eyes traveled over her face and lingered on her lips... " _stimulating_ dinner companion, so I'm going to savor every second."

She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. "Here's to us." She raised her glass.

"Yes," he agreed, bringing his glass to hers. "To us." _This time around, there would be no mistakes. This time, he would do everything humanly possible to keep her._

## Chapter Seven

# Frenemies

Elle's heart was pumping a mile a minute as she paused on the front steps of the school, looking up at the double doors—that ominous threshold that marked her reentry into school. _You can do this_ , she kept repeating over and over again in her mind. This was to be her first, full day back after the accident. She'd gone a couple of half days last week, but this was the real deal—no turning back now.

In a strange turn of events, that she still found hard to believe, she'd been elected homecoming attendant while she was still in the hospital. According to Rae, the election was held four days after she came out of the coma. "You're the only girl I know that's so popular that she's voted homecoming attendant while still in the hospital," Rae had told her.

Elle frowned at that. "Maybe they elected me because they felt sorry for me."

Rae scoffed. "No way. They love you. That's why they voted for you." She flashed a cocky smile. "Of course it didn't hurt to have Edward and me heading up your campaign."

_Edward._ What must he think of her after that stunt that Rush pulled on the field? She squared her shoulders. Time to face the music—for better or worse.

Someone pushed her hard in the back, almost causing her to fall. She spun around, her anger igniting in a flash. "Josselyn! What are you doing?"

Josselyn laughed and walked past her up the stairs. "The first day jitters are a beast, sis." She flashed a snarky smile over her shoulder. "Give __ Edward my regards. Oh, I forgot, he's no longer talking to you." She flicked the ends of her hair. "My bad. Ta ta!"

Elle shook her head in disgust. She was really starting to hate that girl. She squared her shoulders and walked up the steps and into the front office. The woman behind the desk recognized her instantly. "Elle," she said warmly. "We've been expecting you." She stood and walked over to the counter. "I'm Mrs. Spinnet, Principal Kingsley's secretary." She handed Elle a sheet of paper. "This is your schedule."

"Thanks." Elle reached for it and glanced down at the paper, wondering all the while how she would possibly be able to find any of the rooms. The woman seemed to be reading her mind. She cast her a look of pity.

"You probably already know this, but you and Edward Kingsley share lockers. Get him to show you the combination. All of your books are in your locker."

She looked up, her eyes wide. Great! Just what she needed!

"On behalf of myself and the rest of the staff, we want you to know that we're so glad that you're doing well after your... accident. I'll get a student to show you where your first class is located. If you need any additional help during the day, come back to the office."

"Thanks," Elle mumbled, feeling like a complete imbecile. The door opened behind her, but she didn't bother to look around.

Mrs. Spinnet motioned. "You there, could you please show Elle where her first class is located?"

"I can do that."

She froze, recognizing at once that cocky voice. She turned. "You!"

Rush lifted an eyebrow. "Do you want my help or not?"

She groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to do was to give credence to the rumors. The minute people saw them walking down the hall together, any chance she had with Edward would be shot. Then again, Edward had made absolutely no effort to contact her over the weekend, so it was most likely a lost cause anyway.

"Is there a problem here?" Mrs. Spinnet said.

"No, there's no problem," Elle said quickly. She gave Mrs. Spinnet a curt smile. "Thanks for your help."

Rush held the door open for her. "After you."

When they stepped into the hall, he reached for her schedule. "Let's see, your first period class is English with Miss Caskill." He motioned with his head. "This way."

All eyes were on them as they walked down the hall. Elle kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. "I'm sure you're loving this," she muttered through gritted teeth.

He gave her a dark look. "Don't flatter yourself."

Not knowing how to respond, she clamped her mouth shut. She wanted to rip his smug, good-looking head right off his neck. He was the one that had caused the problem to begin with. If he hadn't kissed her on the field then everyone wouldn't be staring at them right now and Edward would still be speaking to her.

"Here we are."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks!" She stepped into the room and cringed when she heard the catcall coming from the back corner. Her face went hot, and she glared at the direction of the guys in the back. Then she realized that Rush had also walked into the room. "What're you doing?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "Going to class, same as you." He walked past her and took a seat.

Miss Caskill turned, and it was obvious from the look of disdain on her face that she was still irate over the events of the homecoming game. "Miss Worthington, we're glad to see you with us again. I trust that there won't be any more shenanigans between you and Rush Porter. You made a mockery out of homecoming, but you will not make a mockery out of my classroom. Is that clear?"

This brought a few jeering chortles from the guys and a disgusted smirk from the ebony-haired girl on the front row.

She wanted to wither up and die. "Yes," she croaked.

"Very good, you may take that empty desk over there," she said, pointing to the desk immediately in front of Rush.

She went to the desk and sat down, pointedly ignoring him.

"Way to go, Rush, that was a sweet kiss," she heard the guy in the adjacent row whisper.

A lump formed in her throat. She felt totally and completely humiliated. Could this day get any worse?

No sooner had she thought the words then she looked up and saw Edward walk into the room. His eyes met hers for one brief moment, long enough for him to give her a scathing look, before he sat down in the middle of the group of guys in the far back corner.

Yes, the day was obviously going to get worse... much worse.

After English was over, Elle was left with no other choice but to follow Edward to the locker.

"Hey," she said.

Rather than answering, he threw open the locker, shoved in his English book, and retrieved a thick math book. He was movie-star handsome with his ultra-white teeth, blonde hair, and hazel eyes, but his features were softer where Rush's were more rugged.

"I said, _hey_ ," she said louder, touching his arm.

He jerked away. "Not now, Elle."

A flash of anger took hold. "You can ignore me all you want, you egotistical jerk, but the fact is that if you'd escorted me out on the field Friday night like you promised then I wouldn't have been on the field with Rush to begin with. So, get out of my way, and let me get my science book!" Then she pushed him. He looked shocked but then held up a hand.

"No problem," he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

"Elle, over here." Elle clutched her lunch tray while looking over at Rae who was waving at her. Relief washed over her. She'd been afraid that she wouldn't have anyone to sit with at lunch. Rae hadn't been in any of her classes thus far. She was wondering when she would see her. She sat down directly in front of Rae who flashed her a huge smile. "It's so good to have you back, don't you agree, girls?"

Elle looked around at the _girls_ in question. She recognized the one sitting beside her. It was the raven-haired girl that had given her the hateful smirk in English class. The girl didn't look nearly as happy to see her as Rae had. Rae did the introductions. "Since Elle can't remember anyone, I'll do the honors." She pointed to the girl. "This is Lynessa."

She rolled her eyes and flicked her long hair over her shoulder. "Charmed."

"This is Mindy." Rae pointed to the cute, thin-faced girl with shoulder-length brown hair.

"Hi," Elle said.

At least Mindy had the decency to smile and say hello.

"Last but not least, this is Brooke." Rae pointed to the sophisticated blonde with acrylic nails that were artfully painted in a red and purple geometric pattern.

Brooke made a face. "Is it true that you don't remember anything?" Her voice had the bored, languid tone of an upscale fashion model, the kind that had lived off of wealth and beauty for so long that it was now a given. She wore her _snub-the-world_ expression as an afterthought—slung over her shoulder like last season's handbag.

"Yes," Elle admitted.

"That's so sad." Brooke's shapely lips went down into a frown.

Why did Elle get the feeling that these girls were relishing in her discomfort? Had she really been friends with them? They seemed so catty and superficial.

"Now don't go putting Elle on the spot." Rae gave Brooke a warning look. "She's had a rough time of it." Rae chuckled. "They're just afraid you're gonna work their butts off at practice this afternoon."

Practice. Panic rolled over her. She couldn't even remember how to get to her classes, much less how to hold a cheerleading practice.

Lynessa smirked. "Don't look so petrified. Cheering is like riding a bike, you never forget." She took a bite of yogurt. "And if you do, then there will be others who can take your place."

"How rude!" Rae exclaimed.

"What?" Lynessa went doe-eyed. "I just meant that others can take her place until she starts to remember things. Geez, Rae, you take everything so literally."

Rae smirked. "I know exactly what you meant. You're just sulking because Elle won homecoming attendant and you didn't." Her jade eyes glittered with satisfaction.

A light went on in Elle's head. Josselyn had mentioned something about Lynessa and how they'd been rivals since childhood. It was all starting to come together.

Lynessa turned to Elle. "You made quite a spectacle of yourself with that bad-boy druggie."

Heat crept up her neck. Why did everyone keep referring to Rush as a _druggie_? "It was a misunderstanding," she said stiffly.

Lynessa laughed. "Some misunderstanding. From the looks of things, I'd say the two of you have a pretty good understanding of one another." She gave Elle a shrewd look. "No one's denying that Rush is a hottie with those piercing blue eyes... and that bod..." She let out a wicked chuckle. "I wouldn't mind sharing a few moments with him myself, but dating him?" A look of disdain crossed her perfect features. "Really, Elle? You've stooped to a new low... even for you. Bad-boy doesn't travel in the same circles we do."

The hair on Elle's neck stood on end. The thoughts of Lynessa with Rush jolted her more than words could express. Like she would ever let that happen— _over her dead body!_ She wanted to rip Lynessa's raven hair out, one strand at a time. "You don't know Rush like I do," she said quietly.

"Obviously," Lynessa sneered, looking at Brooke. They both laughed.

"And since when do we concern ourselves with social circles?" Elle wanted to know.

Lynessa let out an incredulous laugh and looked at her like she'd sprouted another head. "You wrote the book on social circles, Elle. I don't know what happened to you during your..." she made quotation marks in the air "' _accident'_ , but this is too much." She shook her head. "Who are you?"

"I'm starting to wonder," Brooke said, dragging her nails through her long hair.

Elle's eyes narrowed and she had the unreasonable urge to stand up and scream at the top of her lungs. Had she been as shallow as these girls? Lynessa was savoring the last bite of yogurt, her tongue lingering on the spoon like a cat lapping up the final drop of milk from the bowl. There was something predatory about the wretched girl that set her on edge. And at the moment, the cat was having her fun tormenting the mouse. Elle straightened in her chair. She flat out refused to be anyone's mouse or prey. She wanted to take that spoon Lynessa was holding and shove it up her nose.

Lynessa placed the spoon on the plate and started peeling off the layers of an orange. Her voice became thoughtful... calculating. "The question is—where does that leave poor Edward?" Her eyes met Elle's. "I think it's terrible the way you treated Edward," she purred. "He's such a good person, and to think you chose _him_ ," she cast a hateful look to where Rush was sitting, "over Edward." She shuddered. "Horrid!"

Rush seemed to sense their attention. He cast a blistering look at Lynessa who laughed. "The brooding type! I love it!" Interest sparked in her black eyes, and she lifted a sculpted eyebrow. "I'll have to keep my eye on that one," she murmured.

Elle threw down her fork with a loud _plink_ , causing Lynessa to flinch. She'd had about enough of this hateful diva for one day. "Not that it's any of your business," she countered hotly. "But if _poor_ Edward had been a real man and escorted me onto the field like he said he would, then none of this would've happened." She leaned forward into Lynessa's space, her voice honing in on the kill. "What's the problem, Lynessa? Are you interested in Edward? Is that what this is all about?" She looked pointedly in Rush's direction. "Or are you just gathering a collection of my leftover crumbs?"

Lynessa started blinking rapidly. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're way out of line."

Elle felt a swell of vindication when she heard the tremor in Lynessa's voice, but then she saw the shocked expressions on Mindy and Brooke's faces. Rae looked more disappointed than shocked. She'd gone too far. Perhaps she was the terrible person that Josselyn accused her of being.

She turned to Lynessa, her voice taking on a kindness that she didn't feel. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. Things have been a little tense since the accident."

Rae put a hand over hers, and Elle could tell from her soft expression that all was instantly forgiven and forgotten. "No worries, Elle. We're just so glad you're back with us, aren't we?"

"Yes," Rae and Mindy chimed.

Lynessa nodded, but Elle could see the malice brimming in her black eyes. It was crystal clear that she was anything but glad that Elle had come back. Well, she could add Lynessa to the long list of enemies that was piling up faster than the cafeteria garbage cans over in the corner.

## Chapter Eight

# The Job

Just as she had feared, her day went from bad to worse. Cheerleading practice was a complete disaster, much to Lynessa's delight. Elle couldn't remember the first thing about cheering, or jumping, or turning flips, or building pyramids, or anything else that went along with that ridiculous sport. It was all a gigantic blank. She'd hoped that some of it would come back to her, but it hadn't. Left with no other option, she'd been forced to turn the practice over to Lynessa and Brooke, who were all too happy to take over. Edward avoided her like the plague, which was a feat considering they shared a locker and were forced to interact in order to get their books between classes. Rae kept reassuring her that everything would return to normal soon, but Elle could see the doubt in her eyes. It was a lost cause. She hated her life! Hated school. Hated cheerleading! But most of all, she hated the woman standing in front of her—Sera! The woman was impossible!

The minute she walked through the door, Sera had started yapping. In fact, the woman hounded her so much that Elle was starting to tune her out.

Sera got up in her face. "Don't you act like you didn't hear what I just said!"

"What?" Had Sera been jabbering the entire time she'd been lost in thought? Elle looked at Sera and tried to concentrate on what she was saying, despite the fact that her head was starting to pound.

"You are going to have to get a job." Sera perched a hand on her bony hip. "I'll not have you lounging around this house, doing nothing! You will earn your keep!"

Earn her keep? The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. "Between school, cheerleading practice, and homework, how am I supposed to find time to work?" She looked to her dad for help, but he was sitting in his recliner, glued to some documentary on the Discovery Channel. "Dad!" she exclaimed, "I don't have time to get a job."

It took some effort, but he managed to tear himself away from the documentary long enough to respond. "Now, honey," he began. "A job's not so bad. It'll teach you how to be responsible."

"That's right," Sera piped in. "A bit of responsibility is what you need."

Her whole family was crazy. "I have cheerleading practice after school four days a week. It doesn't get over until 5:30 p.m. How do you propose that I fit a job into that schedule?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Sera said crisply. "If you have to give up cheerleading, then so be it."

Yes, Sera would love that. It was probably what she was hoping for. Elle looked over at Josselyn who was looking all too happy about the job thing. Her eyes narrowed. "What about her? Does she have to get a job too?"

"Josselyn is my assistant," Sera countered, lifting her chin. "She follows up with my real estate appointments, picks up the dry cleaning, and does myriads of other things that I don't have time to do."

Elle rolled her eyes. "Sure she does."

"Don't you dare talk back to me, young lady," Sera seethed. She looked at Elle's dad. "Malcolm, did you hear what your daughter just said to me?"

Red blotches started climbing his neck, and he looked like he'd like to be anywhere but in the middle of an argument between Sera and Elle. He pulled at his collar. "Now, Elle, don't be rude to Sera."

Elle put on her best innocent face. "But Dad, I wasn't being rude. I was just saying that I'm sure Josselyn does all of those things for Sera."

He looked relieved. "Oh... well... then..." He gave Sera a pleading look.

Sera's face went dark, and she shot a death glare at Malcolm. "Useless," she muttered under her breath. "As I was saying about the job, I spoke to Lynn Mitchell down the street. She's looking for a babysitter for her twins, and she needs someone to clean the house. I told her that—"

The doorbell rang.

Elle jumped up, she was glad to have an excuse to end the conversation. "I'll get it," she chimed, unnecessarily, throwing open the door. There was no one there. She looked down and saw a box wrapped in metallic gold with an envelope resting on top. _Elle_ was scrawled across the envelope in fancy script.

"What is that?" Josselyn craned her neck to see.

Elle looked at the box and envelope in her hands. "I'm not sure."

Sera reached for the box. "Give me that!"

Begrudgingly, Elle handed her the box but held onto the envelope. "It's addressed to me."

Sera frowned and sat down on the couch where she proceeded to rip the paper unceremoniously from the box. She lifted the lid and looked inside. "What the—" She looked accusingly at Elle. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Elle's eyebrows shot up. "I don't know what you're talking about. What is it?"

She held the box up for them to see. "It's empty. Why would someone give us an empty box?" She motioned. "Open the envelope."

Elle slid her finger along the top edge. There was a single piece of paper inside. She scanned it and couldn't stop the ghost of a smile from forming on her lips.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Sera spat. "Read it!"

> _Elle, darling,_

> _It has come to my attention that you are in need of a job. It just so happens that I have an opening at The Chocolate Fountain. You may start tomorrow, immediately following cheerleading practice. Or perhaps you're growing tired of fraternizing with those feather-brained, knit-wit cheerleaders? If so, you may come earlier. (It's okay to stop wasting your time and to move on to more meaningful matters.) Oh, drats! I'm meddling again. At any rate, the job is yours. See you tomorrow._

> _Your loving aunt,_

> _Adele_

* * *

"What?" Sera's face wrinkled into itself, and she looked like she could spit nails. "How did she?" she sputtered. "How dare that woman interfere with our lives!"

"I think it's wonderful." Later, Elle would wonder how the box and envelope suddenly appeared on the doorstep at the very instant she needed them most. But here and now it was a delicious victory, one she would relish with pleasure. She flashed a smile at Sera. "You told me to get a job, and now I have one." She shrugged. "Problem solved."

Sera came off the couch. "I'll not allow you to work for that coot!"

All of Elle's hopes dashed to the floor.

"Now wait just a minute, Sera," Malcolm said, his voice growing stern. "I'll not have you talking that way about my sister."

If a bolt of lightning had suddenly split the house, Sera wouldn't have been more surprised. Malcolm had stood up to her. Wow! Her dad did have a backbone after all. Elle was impressed.

"The woman's crazy!" Sera fumed. "Look, she sent us an empty box." She shoved the box at Malcolm.

He looked inside and chuckled. "She is eccentric, I'll give her that." There was something akin to admiration in his voice.

Elle's eyes met her dad's, and for the first time since the accident, she felt a kinship with him. "I like her," she insisted.

He gave her an appraising look. "Well, she certainly seems to like you too." He clapped his hands. "Good, then it's all settled. You'll start to work there tomorrow."

Sera's jaw started working. "But—"

He held up a finger. "You said she needed a job, and now she has one. You should be pleased, Sera." There was an edge to his voice—a dangerous edge that suggested that Sera would do well to hold her tongue.

She clamped her thin lips shut, her eyes smoldering.

Josselyn made a face. "But what about me? I want to work at The Chocolate Fountain too."

"You already have a job. You're Sera's assistant, remember?" Elle didn't bother hiding the triumphant look in her eyes.

"But that's not fair!" Josselyn looked at Sera. "Mother! Tell her!"

Sera's face puckered like she'd bitten into something rotten. "You don't want to work for that woman, Joss. You work for me. I need your help."

"I hate working for you! It's boring!" Her lips turned down into a pout. "I want to work at The Chocolate Fountain!"

Sera looked at Malcolm for help, but he only shrugged.

"Please," Josselyn implored.

Sera's resolve seemed to give way. "Fine," she said under her breath. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave Malcolm a pointed look. "I think it's only fair that you ask Adele to hire both of the girls."

Elle couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. First Sera was calling Adele a coot and now she wanted her to hire Josselyn. Malcolm and Sera started arguing back and forth. Elle was about to jump into the conversation but stopped short when she saw the words. She looked at the paper in her hands and then did a double-take, not believing what was happening. Words were forming on the bottom of the page. It was like someone was writing with an invisible pen. "There's more to the letter," she said, her voice tinged with awe.

Everyone stopped.

Elle waited until the first sentence had been formed.

_Regrettably, I only have need of one person and that's you, Elle darling._

"You're lying! It doesn't say that," Josselyn said.

"Oh, yes it does. Wait! There's more!" Elle's eyes grew big and she chuckled. "Never mind, I don't think you want to hear the rest of it."

"Don't get smart, of course we want to hear the rest of it," Sera snapped. "Read it, now!"

Elle shrugged. "Okay, if you insist."

_Tell that bag of brittle bones my brother calls a wife that I'll not have her daughter, that cow, in my shop eating up all the profits._

It was all Elle could do to keep a straight face.

"What!" Sera jumped up and grabbed the paper out of Elle's hands. There was a crazed look in her eyes. She let out a string of curses. "How dare she!" She spun around and thrust the paper at Malcolm. "Your sister is a terrible person! Do something!"

A look of horror twisted over Josselyn's face. "How could she say such a mean thing?" She burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Sera shot Malcolm a withering look. "Now, honey, don't pay any attention to that old bag," she said, going after Josselyn.

This left Elle and Malcolm in the room, looking at each other. Then Malcolm's lower lip quivered, and his shoulders started to shake. Tears were flowing down his face, and he was holding his hand to his mouth. At first, Elle thought he was crying, but then she realized he was laughing. Soon Elle was laughing too. A dam broke loose inside of her, releasing all of the pent-up emotions she'd experienced over the past few days. Her laughter bubbled up and consumed her. She laughed so hard that her stomach hurt. Finally, when the laughter died down, Malcolm lifted his glasses and wiped at the tears. "Well, I've got to hand it to your Aunt Adele. She certainly knows how to clear a room," he said, his eyes twinkling. He handed Elle the empty box. "Okay, I think we've had enough fun for one night." He stood, and the heaviness of his situation seemed to descend upon his shoulders as he glanced toward the doorway through which Sera had gone. "Time to go and ease the ruffled feathers," he said, speaking mostly to himself. He clicked off the TV and began straightening the pillows on the couch. "Goodnight, Elle."

"Goodnight, Dad." She felt a smidgen of sympathy for this bookish man who somehow ended up in Sera's clutches. It took great effort on his part to stand up to her, but he'd done it. He'd done it for _her_ , and that counted for something. She watched him walk out of the room, clutching a James Patterson novel under his arm. "Dad," she called after him.

He turned.

She gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks."

His eyes softened and he looked as though he might say something, but merely nodded before turning and leaving the room. She shook her head and chuckled, reliving the moment when she'd read that sentence about Josselyn. The words on the page, had they been there all along? She looked down at the empty box and gasped. It was suddenly full of the most exquisite truffles she'd ever seen. Half of the box was filled with white chocolate truffles and the other half milk chocolate. There was a small card tucked in the side. She pulled it out.

_A white chocolate truffle makes the perfect bedtime snack. A word of caution—only one per night... please._

## Chapter Nine

# The Roof

Elle chewed on her pencil while reading the algebra problem again for the umpteenth time. It might as well have been Greek. She blew out a breath. Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it. It was a text from Rae. Hey, there's something I need to show u after practice 2mro.

Elle responded back. Sorry, no can do. I have a new job at The Chocolate Fountain starting 2mro.

??? was Rae's reply. She could imagine Rae, furiously pounding on the keypad of her phone.

She typed back one word that explained it all. Sera

GR8! Rae typed back. We'll work around it. CU 2mro.

K.Elle responded.

She put down the phone and tried to concentrate on the math homework once more, but it was no use. Her mind kept going back to the words that appeared, as if by magic, on the page and the empty box suddenly filled with chocolate. She glanced at the box of truffles resting on the dresser. It looked so delectable that she was tempted to dig into it, but the instructions had been so specific—only eat one before bedtime. She frowned. Adele was so eccentric. Still, she liked her. Elle smiled. She certainly knew how to keep Sera and Josselyn in check.

She pulled at her long-sleeved shirt. The room was stuffy and hot, and she was restless. She went to the window and unlocked it. With a little effort, she was able to lift it. The cool air that splashed against her face was refreshing. She looked up at the velvety sky and twinkling stars before leaning out the window and looking down. The roofline for the first story jutted out about two feet below the window. Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed the box of chocolate and climbed through the window and onto the roof. She sat down and scooted so that her back was resting against the side of the house with the box of chocolate beside her. There was something calming about being out here, up above the world. It gave her a chance to think clearly. In the open sky, her problems seemed less threatening. She looked up, recognizing at once the Big Dipper. Her practiced eyes trailed up from the corner of the cup until she found Polaris, the North Star. Ruefully, she shook her head. How could she remember how to find the North Star and yet not be able to remember anything about her life?

"Still searching the stars, I see."

She jumped, feeling as though her heart had dropped to her knees. She looked up to see Rush walking along the roof. He motioned. "Do you mind if I join you?" She was so startled to see him that she was at a loss for words. Numbly, she shook her head. She wasn't prepared for the tremor of excitement that ran over her as they sat there, looking at the stars. The silence grew large between them, and she became keenly aware of his nearness. Her heart sped up as she stole a glance at him. The moonlight shone against his chiseled profile. Gosh, he was handsome! More handsome than any guy had a right to be.

Finally, she could bear the silence no longer. "How did you know I was up here?"

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to remember our spot."

"Our spot?" She looked at him and saw the implication in his eyes. "The two of us have been out here before?" She felt hot, despite the cold.

A slow smile stole across his features. "Yeah."

"Did we used to come out here and talk?"

"Yeah, we talked... " His eyes moved to her lips. "Among other things."

"Oh." She looked away. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she felt like she would have an out-of-body experience.

He let out a low chuckle that sent shivers trickling down her spine. "I know it's dark out here, but if I didn't know better, I'd say you're blushing."

"I am not," she countered.

"You are."

He sounded amused... pleased. She smirked. "Don't flatter yourself." She used the same phrase that he'd used on her earlier in the day.

He laughed. "Fair enough." He shifted around until he got comfortable. "What're you looking for tonight?"

"What?"

He pointed. "The stars."

She looked at him in amazement. "How did you know?"

His expression became serious. "Because I know you, Elle."

The sincerity of his words cut through her defenses and encircled her heart. Why was it that things always heated up between them so quickly? He was so close, and they were alone. She glanced at his wavy hair and how it curled on his neck. Her fingers itched to touch it. Things could get out of control fast. She scrambled for something to say—something that would quell this all-consuming attraction she felt whenever he was near. She cleared her throat. "Do you know anything about the Big Dipper?"

"A little." He gave her a quirky smile. "The Big Dipper is a part of a larger constellation known as Ursa Major."

"The Great Bear," she inserted.

He nodded. "Exactly." Then he went on as if she hadn't spoken. "The body and tail of the bear make up The Big Dipper. According to Greek Mythology, the mighty Zeus became enamored with Callisto, a nymph known for her remarkable beauty... not unlike someone else I know." His eyes lingered on hers, and she felt the familiar heat fan her cheeks. Handsome and charming, a dangerous combination. "Anyway, as I was saying, Zeus and Callisto had a child named Arcas. When Zeus's wife, Hera, learned of his infidelity, she became insanely jealous of Callisto and turned her into a bear."

"Ooh, how dreadful," she cooed.

He ignored her sarcasm and continued with the story. "Arcas grew up to be a mighty hunter. While hunting in the forest one day, he came across Callisto who heard her son's voice and rushed out to greet him. Arcas, not realizing that his mother was the bear, almost killed her. To protect Callisto, Zeus intervened, turning them both into bears and flinging them into the sky. Callisto is The Great Bear known as Ursa Major, and Arcas is The Lesser Bear known as Ursa Minor."

"Wow! Impressive." She smiled. "You really know your Greek Mythology."

He shrugged. "What can I say? My mother's an English teacher."

She made a face. "Really?"

"Yep! You should hear me quoting Shakespeare." He made an exaggerated motion of clearing his throat and lifted his face to the sky, his arms outstretched.

> "My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

> My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

> The more I have, for both are infinite."

"From Romeo and Juliet," he said, giving her a slight flourish with his hand.

She began clapping. "Bravo!" Underneath the tough-guy façade was a much more complicated and refined individual than she'd realized. It lay on her tongue to ask him why everyone kept calling him a druggie, but she couldn't bring herself to voice the words. "Remind me to ask you for help the next time I have to write a paper."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

She swallowed hard, not sure how to broach the next topic. "Tell me about us," she blurted before she could talk herself out of it.

He looked surprised. "You and me?"

She nodded.

He took a deep breath. "We met in the summer when I first moved to Tower Heights."

"So you've only been here for a few months?"

"Yeah, things weren't so good for my mom and me before, so we decided to move here to start fresh." His voice trailed off, and he seemed to get lost in thought.

So, he had a past—a past he didn't feel comfortable talking about. Even though she was itching to know the details, she didn't press him. He seemed to sense that she was giving him his space and started again.

"The first day we met... well, let's just say that things hadn't gone too well. I was on the team and—"

"Team? What team?"

"The football team."

"You play football?"

" _Played_ football," he corrected, "not anymore."

"But what happened?"

His jaw tightened, and she could tell he was trying to decide if he wanted to tell her.

"What happened?" she prodded.

"I misjudged the character of one of the players."

She tried to make sense of what he was saying. "Which player? How?"

He hugged his arms. "People aren't always what they seem. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Anyway, I was accused of something I didn't do, so I quit the team."

"What were you accused of?" She kept her tone conversational in the hopes that it would prompt him to talk. All the while she was wondering if this is where the drugs came into play. Had he been doing drugs? Was this explanation his way of covering it up? She pushed aside the incriminating thoughts. He deserved a chance to be heard.

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, I was in the garage, taking out my frustrations on a punching bag." He gave her a crooked smile that sent her heart to flipping. "And there you were, leaning against the garage door in a sundress and red heels."

Her eyes widened. Had she really been bold enough to show up at some stranger's garage door? That didn't sound like her, although she'd seen those red heels in her closet, along with a red sundress that had splotches of blue flowers on it.

"You brought me up here to your spot. We started talking about the stars... the meaning of the universe... life in general..." He flashed a teasing smile. "That's where it all began."

Began... what began? She had to know. "When did we start..." Her heart pounded. "I mean when did we?" The words came out in a jumble. Blast it! She couldn't get the words to come out right. Then she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. She reached out and shoved him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He turned toward her, closing the distance between them. His eyes looked midnight blue in the near darkness, but she saw in them that same fierce determination she'd sensed around him earlier. Unconquerable confidence that willed her to acknowledge him. There was a thin layer of stubble running along his jaw. Her eyes went to his lips, and she remembered how it felt when he kissed her on the field. He caressed the curve of her cheek with his finger. Her breath caught. "Is there something going on between us?" he asked, his voice going husky. The question hung in the balance, and she didn't know how to answer it, but resisting him was becoming harder and harder. It was like she was teetering on the edge of a black hole, and despite her better judgment, he was sucking her in—heart, body, and soul. He touched a strand of her hair. Every inch of her, yearned to kiss him. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, waiting for his lips to take hers, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes, confused. Had she misread the signals? He was still a breath away, watching her intently. There was a trace of amusement on his face. Humiliation burned through her veins. He was toying with her. She tried to back away, but he caught her by the wrist. "Is there something between us? I want to hear you say it." His voice was urgent, demanding.

"Let go of me!" she uttered through gritted teeth.

He held on tighter. "I won't be Edward's stand-in!" His voice grew hard. "If there's something between us then I want it out in the open—for everyone to see. I won't keep slinking around on rooftops, Elle."

"Is that what you think this is?" A hot anger coursed through her veins. "I didn't ask you to come out here tonight! I didn't ask you to escort me out on the field, and I sure as heck didn't ask you to kiss me!"

He let go of her arm. "No, of course you didn't," he said bitterly. "You never do."

They sat there glaring at each other until he backed up like he was going to leave. A clutch of fear tugged at her, and she realized something in that moment which startled her. She didn't want him to leave, not like this. "Look, I don't know what happened between us before the accident. I don't know what I did to you, but whatever it was, I can't remember." Her voice broke. "I don't remember anything." She hated the way her eyes were filling with tears. She blinked to keep them at bay. "To hear people tell it, I did a lot of horrible things before the accident, so whatever I did to you... I'm sorry."

He raked his hands through his hair, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether to stay or go. Finally, he let out a groan. "You've got to be the most infuriating woman on the planet." He cocked his head. "How did a nice guy like me get tangled up with a girl like you?"

She started to spout off a retort until she saw the smile playing on his lips. She gave him a reluctant smile and arched her eyebrow. "A nice guy like you, huh? That remains to be seen."

He laughed. They sat silently for a few minutes, looking at the stars. He nudged her. "So, where do we go from here?"

She let out a breath. "I don't know, but I'm willing to take things one step at a time and see where it goes..." she stole a glance at him "... if you are."

He turned to look at her. "You know, I think that's the most honest thing I've heard you say."

She chuckled and held out her hand. "Friends?"

When he reached for her hand, a whisper went through her—a whisper of something old and lasting, something that had been there before, something that couldn't be erased by time or space. He seemed to feel it too. He gave her a quizzical look. "I don't know what we are, but _friends_ doesn't quite fit the bill."

He leaned in, and she half expected him to kiss her this time. Instead, his mouth lingered near her ear. His warm breath sent a tantalizing tingle over her. "Sleep well," he whispered.

He stood, and all the while his eyes never left hers. A part of her wanted to grab hold of his shirt and put her lips to his so she could satisfy this incredible longing that was building inside of her. Instead, she reached for the box of chocolate and stood. If she couldn't have Rush, she'd settle for a piece of chocolate. She reached for a white chocolate truffle and handed it to him. "Here, we'll seal the deal with this."

He looked down. "What's that?"

"Chocolate."

He shook his head and laughed. "Well, life with you is never boring, I'll give you that, Elle." He took the truffle. "Okay, we'll start fresh beginning now. Let this white piece of chocolate... this sugary concoction... this..." he floundered, searching for the right word.

" _Truffle_ ," she supplied.

" _Truffle_ be a symbol of our new..." he winked "... _friendship_." He plopped it in his mouth. "Um, that's good." He motioned. "Now you."

She took one and put it in her mouth. "Yes," she agreed, "very good. Well, it's getting late. I need to go."

He nodded. "Me too." Then he flashed a mysterious smile and began reciting.

> "Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,

> That I shall say good night till it be morrow."

She shook her head. "Too charming and way too handsome," she muttered under her breath, watching him saunter away. He had her in the palm of his hand, and he knew it. At the moment, being in the palms of his capable hands didn't seem like such a bad thing.

## Chapter Ten

# The White Chocolate Truffles

Elle tossed and turned, her thoughts going back to Rush more often than they should until she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. The perfect sweetness of the truffle she'd eaten earlier wafted over her senses, and before she knew it, she was lifting higher and higher until she was floating. She was twisting and turning in the empty space, across jagged mountains and blue lakes, without a care in the world, but then a familiar curve in the landscape captured her attention. She paused to get a closer look, going down, down, down. _It's a dream_ , her mind whispered, but somehow she remembered having been here before. There was a dot in the distance, but as she neared it, it grew large before her—a house. A very large house that was big enough to be a hotel. She recognized the gray stone, the massive wooden door, the windows that were crisscrossed with thin strips of metal, creating infinite diamond shapes. There was a slight opening in one of the windows. A tiny crack that was as welcoming as a summer's breeze. It beckoned to her, and she floated closer through the open space and into the house...

She might've heard the faint sound of pinging glass the first time, had Cinderella not been so focused on mending the torn frock. She'd caught the hem on a post the day before as she was feeding the chickens. If only she could tuck away enough farthings to buy cloth for a new frock then perhaps Rushton's mom would think her a good candidate for a lady in waiting. She sighed, knowing that there would be no new frock and most likely no opportunity of ever going to the castle. It was Rushton who had planted the idea in her head. He kept insisting he could persuade his mother to put in a good word for her. She's on a first-name basis with the King, he assured her. "If she recommends you, then you'll certainly get selected."

What Rushton hadn't figured on, however, was his mother's vehement dislike for Cinderella. And as far as Cinderella could tell, it was all on account of the fact that Cinderella was a poor servant girl in her stepmother's home. It didn't matter that her father was once a duke. He died impoverished with a tarnished reputation, and that made Cinderella tarnished too. Wisteria Avalonia Porter of Florin, Rushton's mother, was a famed singer who entertained the King's Court. Rushton was certain that he could change his mother's mind about her, but Cinderella wasn't so sure. Still, she hated to dash his hopes, and in her heart of hearts, a part of her wanted to believe him. Somehow, in the midst of all of Rushton's persuading, his hopes had become her own. The ping sounded more loudly, followed by a succession of other pings. She put down the frock and went to the window. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Rushton on the ground, throwing pebbles up at the window. She opened it and called down to him. "Hello!"

He motioned. "Come down, we need to talk." He flashed her a smile so brilliant that it would've made the sun envious.

She glanced over her shoulder, afraid that Josselyn or Seraphina would see her talking to him. "I have to finish my chores," she called back, knowing full well that by the time she finished the long list of tasks that Seraphina required her to do, the sunset bell would've already sounded, and it would be time for supper.

He waved the comment away. "Come down," he urged, his expression impatient and pleading at the same time. "Please." He pressed the flats of his palms together and lifted the tips of his fingers to his lips.

She let out a breath, knowing that it was useless to protest. Rushton could talk her into doing almost anything. "I'll be right there."

"Again," Rushton said, eyeing her critically, "but this time, do it with confidence. You are a lady in waiting—bred from a life of culture and dignity."

Culture and dignity? Two things she knew little about thanks to her difficult upbringing. Rushton was sitting on the ground, his back resting against a bale of hay. He was the picture of elegance in his rich, green tunic emblazoned with the king's coat of arms and his velvet cap, befitting the noble squire he was. What did he know of hardship or depravity? She put her hands on her hips. "Yes, let me see, yesterday, when I was milking the cow, we were discussing the importance of setting a proper table, and then when I was feeding the hogs, I gave them the proper curtsy..." she lifted the hem of her frock and gave him an exaggerated dip... "like so."

He made a tsking sound with his tongue. "Watch that temper, it'll get the best of you every time."

"Whatever do you mean?" She batted her eyes.

He chuckled. "Keep wearing your expressions on your sleeve, and you'll be the target of every other lady in waiting from Aandover Peaks to the next kingdom." He lifted his chin in mock solemnity and looked at her as if she were the lowliest of peons. "You must be the picture of dignity." His voice took on the tone of an entitled royal, reminding her of the puffed-up, peacock of a man she'd seen in the marketplace, some duke with a title long enough to be a book, from some place she'd never heard of. Rushton brought his hand to his chin, cupping it in a dignified manner. "You must exude grace..." he made a flourish with his hand "... and control."

She chuckled despite herself. "I never knew you were so _royal_ ," she teased, her eyes twinkling.

His eyes met hers, his expression growing serious. "The truth is, I'm no more royal than you." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "In fact, in reality less of a royal, as your father was a duke."

"A foolish duke who squandered away the family fortune," she said regretfully.

"The point is, Cinderella, there's greatness in you." The sincerity of his words pricked at her, causing her eyes to go misty. If only she could believe him, but in reality, she was nothing—a peasant in her stepmother's home. Seraphina had kept her on for one reason—she'd worked hard and proven herself useful. She lived her life in fear, knowing one misstep could get her thrown out. She blinked rapidly and looked at the ground, her shoulders deflated in defeat. He stood and went to her side.

"Hey." The tenderness in his voice turned her to mush. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Hey," he said again. "You can do this. They will only see what you let them. You must convince them you are a lady." His voice was so firm and unyielding she was forced to comply.

She still had her doubts as to whether or not she could pull it off, but he believed in her so completely. For his sake, she had to at least try. She gave him a stiff smile. "Okay."

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, causing her pulse to race. Ever since that fateful day when he'd saved her from the bully, the two of them had been inseparable. At first, she only thought of him as a friend. No, that's not true. He'd always been more than a friend. He was her best friend, her confidant, the spark of light in her otherwise dark world. He was her salvation, her everything. But lately, things between them had started to change. She'd seen him, when he thought she wasn't looking, studying her with a fierce intensity that kindled a fire inside of her. Whenever he came near, her heart leapt in anticipation. He'd awakened the best part of her—a part she didn't know existed. Life was rich and wonderful when Rushton was at her side. She would go to the castle for Rushton. It was as simple as that.

"Let's try it once more," he said, his voice laced with tenderness. "If you do it properly, we'll go for a ride on Shadow tomorrow." He motioned at the calico horse tethered to the side of the barn.

"Really?" She couldn't stop the smile from breaking across her lips.

He nodded.

She laughed. "You're bribing me, aren't you?" Rushton had taught her to ride, and he knew it was the one thing she loved to do more than anything else.

"Whatever it takes," he said, mischief dancing in his eyes. As he gazed down at her, his expression changed to something more complex. His lips parted, and he seemed to be battling within himself as his blue eyes went a shade darker. Her breath caught, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Instead, he encircled her waist and started twirling her around. "Next, I'll teach you to dance," he murmured.

Her face went warm, and she could feel her pulse pounding painfully in her ears. She didn't know how much longer she could stand being this close without kissing him.

The ringing of the sunset bell sent a feeling of foreboding rushing over her. She stopped. "Oh no, I've lost track of time. My chores." Panic made it difficult to breathe. She'd gotten so caught up in spending time with Rushton that she'd neglected to do them. Seraphina would be livid.

He caught her wrist. "They're taken care of."

"What?" She shook her head. "You don't understand. I was supposed to feed the chickens, draw water from the well, clean the floors, dust the furniture, make the bread, and..."

"Whoa! Take a breath."

Angry tears welled in her eyes. There was no way she could explain the depth of Seraphina's anger or the wrath she would surely incur.

"Your chores are already done."

"Nay... that's impossible."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Aye, let's just say Josselyn and I came to a little arrangement."

A furrow appeared between her brows. She didn't like the idea of Josselyn and Rushton having an arrangement. She didn't like the idea of Rushton having an agreement with any maiden other than herself.

"Josselyn agreed to do your chores today and the rest of the week in exchange for a favor."

"What favor?" she asked, her tone wary. "'It's a mistake to trust Josselyn. She'll lie to your face, and she won't hold up her end of the bargain."

"Oh, she'll hold up her end of this bargain, I can promise you that."

She shook her head, not liking the sound of this. What favor had Rushton agreed to? She wouldn't put anything past Josselyn. "What did you promise her?"

"An opportunity to attend the King's Ball in the castle."

Her jaw dropped. "But... how?" Invitations to the King's Ball were only extended to the highest dignitaries. For an entire year, Seraphina had been trying unsuccessfully to secure an invitation to the King's Ball on Josselyn's behalf.

He smiled. "The prince and I are like this," he said, holding up crossed fingers.

"Really?"

She knew Rushton was highly respected, but hadn't realized he'd risen to such heights. Of course, he was well spoken, terribly handsome, and brilliant. It was only natural that he would attract attention. An unbidden jealousy seized her as she thought about the ladies in the court—attractive ladies in fine dresses, unlike the dreadful frock she was wearing. Those ladies had most assuredly noticed his witty charm and infectious smile. She cringed thinking of Rushton dancing with someone else.

"Don't look so crestfallen. I'll get you an invitation to the ball as well." He lifted an eyebrow in a challenge. "Under one condition."

"Oh, yeah, and what is that?"

A smile tugged at his lips. "No more curtsying to the hogs, okay?"

She laughed. "Agreed."

"And no more conversations with the cow." He shook his head. "Otherwise, people might start to talk." His eyes twinkled.

She nodded. He spun her around once more, then she reluctantly extricated herself from his grasp. "I have to go home now."

He nodded. "Meet me here tomorrow?" As he spoke the words, she saw a yearning in his eyes that caused her heart to flip. He was feeling it too—this incredible attraction between them. The thought sent her hopes soaring upward to the sky.

"You can count on it." She made a promise to herself right then and there that she would learn all of the silly things it required to be a lady in waiting. She would impress his mother and go to the castle, so she could be near Rushton. And she would do whatever it took to earn his heart because it was becoming painfully clear that somehow—without her realizing—he'd already stolen her heart.

Perhaps it had been his all along.

Elle sat up in bed. She looked around at the dark room, then lay back down. Talk about a doozy of a dream. She'd been flying over hills and... She stopped, searching her brain. She'd dreamt of someone. He'd been wonderful, funny, gorgeous, intense. A warmth shot through her. _Rushton_. The name rippled through her consciousness like fast-turning pages from a forgotten book. She frowned. Where had that come from? For starters, his name was _Rush_ , not _Rushton_. And Rush was most certainly not the guy she'd been dreaming about! She laughed at the thought. What she needed most was to get a good night's sleep—no dreams! _Go back to sleep!_ she commanded herself, but it was no use. She tossed and turned for another half hour before she finally let out a defeated breath and threw back the covers. She stood and went to the window. She had a bird's-eye view of Rush's home. The windows were all dark, and she had the uncanny impression that she was seeing into a face with fathomless, black eyes. Fleetingly, she wondered which room was his, then scowled for thinking such a thing. He'd been somewhat nice to her on the roof, she admitted, although she still didn't have a clue what had happened between the two of them before the accident. At least they were friends now. She made a face. _Or something_. She gathered her hair up in a ponytail. Rush was occupying way too much of her thoughts. The spiteful part of her hoped that she was driving him as crazy as he was driving her. She chuckled. That was wishful thinking on her part. He was probably sleeping like a baby.

Rush punched the pillow with his fist. He hated nights like this when he couldn't get to sleep. It was all because of Elle. She was driving him crazy! One minute she was hot, the next, cold. Things had gone well tonight. A slow smile stole across his face. Incredibly well. It was those moments like tonight that gave him a sliver of hope. Every time he decided to write her off for good, she would do something to redeem herself. He'd been livid when she slapped him at the game, as if he didn't have the right to kiss her in front of people. He'd certainly kissed her enough times in private. She was not immune to the strong attraction that rose up between them whenever they were near each other, he could see it in her eyes. She'd wanted him to kiss her, and he could have. _He should have_ , but he was tired of being a stand-in for Edward. He was tired of her using him. If she couldn't acknowledge that they were a couple in public, then he sure as heck wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of having a secret relationship. She seemed different now than she did before the accident, more sincere. The problem was, he wasn't sure if it was real or another one of Elle's elaborate games. Tonight, he'd almost believed her when she said that she'd forgotten everything. She'd looked so lost. His instinct was to throw his arms around her—to protect her from all of the hurt and uncertainty. But there was still a part of him that didn't trust her. His life would be simpler if he could just forget about her. After all, it wasn't as if he were lacking for female attention. There were plenty of girls that would give their right eye to go out with him. Even as he thought the words, an image of Elle flashed through his mind—her blonde hair, expressive eyes, long legs, and that whimsical smile that held a touch of mystery. She'd gotten under his skin, into his blood, and it was killing him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his system.

He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift. He thought about that ridiculous truffle she'd given him—a symbol of their new _friendship_. The last thing he wanted was to be Elle's friend. It was all or nothing.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, he was riding his bike over long ribbons of chocolate, white on the top and dark underneath. He looked ahead, but the ribbon continued on and on to a place in the distance he could no longer see.

"Mother, if you would give her a chance, you would see in her the greatness that I see."

Wisteria let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, Rushton, my dear, naïve boy. You cannot possibly see her for what she is because you are blinded by her beauty. Beauty flowers for a moment, then fades as surely as the fall gives way to winter, and you will be left with nothing but rot and decay."

"Nay, you're wrong!" he countered, his face growing flush. "You don't know her like I do. She's generous and kind and—"

"Penniless!" she inserted, holding up a finger. "Let's not forget that." Wisteria stood on her toes and strained to reach a bottle on the top shelf. It contained a glob of something green and slimy. When she opened the lid, the stench of rancid meat invaded the air.

Rushton gagged. "What is that?" he said, averting his nose.

"A combination of cow dung, snake venom, and beet root." She scooped out a portion of the putrid substance and dropped it into a cauldron of boiling water.

"It smells awful!"

She sniffed. "Really, I hadn't noticed." Then she laughed and poured a bottle of thick, black liquid into the cauldron.

He scowled. "You're toying with me, mother."

Her violet eyes grew serious. "Nay, I speak the truth, my son. Nothing good will come of your infatuation with Cinderella. A fortnight ago, I saw two ravens lighting on the stable roof, an omen of death."

He raked a hand through his hair. "Oh, stop it!" His mother was always trying to use her potions and superstitions as a means of keeping him under control.

"I saw it," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. She leaned over the cauldron and inhaled the green steam lifting up.

Without warning, a chill ran down his spine, and a clutch of apprehension wrangled his gut. He sat down in the chair and held out his hands to the fire in an attempt to ward off the chill permeating his body. He willed himself to work through the fear. He was firm in his resolve to stand by Cinderella, and he wouldn't let his mother change his mind, no matter how persuasive she was.

She came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "You feel it too, I can see it on your countenance. Cinderella is an opportunist. She's using you to get to the castle. A rare beauty like hers won't go unnoticed. She'll attract the attention of someone else—someone whose rank and authority exceeds yours. In the end, she'll leave you heartbroken and alone."

"Since when is it a crime to be beautiful, mother? Or are you speaking from experience? Few are as beautiful as you."

Her eyes sparked. "Beauty is not a crime, Rushton—until it becomes a weapon, used to seduce an impulsive squire to elevate one's station."

"It's not like that, mother." He scowled. What did she know of the love he felt for Cinderella? He hated the doubt seeping through his toes and rising up higher and higher until he was swimming in it. The black thoughts swirled in his mind, growing more terrible by the moment. He saw a vision of Cinderella—pointing and mocking him. He put his hands to his head and jerked out of her grasp. "Nay! You're doing this!" He pointed. "What's in the cauldron—an anxiety potion?"

She shot him a look of disgust. "Do you actually believe I would stoop to using magic against my own son?"

Magic was outlawed in the kingdom by order of the king, but anyone who knew his mother also knew she did exactly what she pleased, when she pleased. He turned and faced her. The hurt simmering in her eyes sent a stab of guilt shooting through him. His first instinct was to say something soothing to placate her, but the time for subterfuge was over. "I'm not sure what to think anymore," he admitted. The silence swirled between them, causing the words to grow large and terrible. There. He'd said it out loud. The truth was that he didn't know what to think about his mother. She used magic on a daily basis, so it was very possible—probable that she was using it on him. Her power was both revered and feared throughout the kingdom. That much he knew. And she had some hold over the king. Something significant had happened between them—something she never spoke of, but it forever cloaked their world like a sinister shadow, threatening to block out the sun and leave them floundering in darkness.

She wiped her hands on her apron, her shoulders sagging in defeat. She turned back to the cauldron. The lines around her mouth deepened, and he saw it then—something she tried hard to keep hidden. Her frailty. He realized with a start that she was getting older. Her life had been fraught with hardship and sorrow, and she'd lost much. He'd not meant to hurt her, but he wasn't going to let her fears hinder his happiness. "You love her too much," Wisteria continued. "Love is a dangerous thing. It will consume you and eat away at the foundation of your soul, and I'll not allow that to happen to my son," she finished, her chin jutting out.

Defiance burned in her eyes, and he knew she meant every word. Suddenly the muddy lake became clear, and he caught an inkling of the hurt that had been plaguing his mother. "Like it has to you?" He spoke the words softly.

She turned and lifted an eyebrow.

He gave her a sad smile. "I can see the hurt you try so hard to keep hidden. It permeates everything around us. I used to think that hurt was owed to the death of my father, but that's not it at all." He looked her in the eye. "Is it?"

A shadow of fear crossed her features, then quickly disappeared into her carefully constructed mask. "I don't know what you mean." She turned her attention to the potion.

He arose from the chair and came up behind her. "Mother, what happened between you and the king?"

She went still.

"Mother," he implored. "Look at me."

When she turned, he was surprised to see a single tear rolling down her cheek. "The past is better left alone," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"But that's just it, it's not in the past. It's affecting everything we do. I see the way you look at him, and I've seen the way he looks at you!" She closed her eyes and shook her head. He took her by the arms. "What happened between the two of you?"

When she opened her eyes, the fragile woman had been replaced by the powerful wizard. "Aalexander is a dangerous man!" she said vehemently. "You must never speak those words again. Do you understand?" The fire in her eyes demanded submission, and even he, her son, wasn't strong enough to go up against her. "Do you understand?" she breathed through gritted teeth.

He nodded.

That seemed to satisfy her. "Good, then we'll have no more talk of this Cinderella."

"But I love her!" The words exploded out of him. "If you don't help her get to the castle, then I'll find another way. There's nothing you can say or do that will change my mind." He glared at her, daring her to disagree.

She gave him a long, searching look, and he could see conflicting emotions churning in her. "Do you really love her that much?"

He nodded.

"And she loves you?"

"Absolutely," he said, looking her in the eye so there would be no question about his conviction.

She let out a breath. "Very well, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you!" His voice rang with pure, undiluted joy. "Oh, thank you, mother!" He reached and caught her in a tight embrace.

"I make no promises, Rushton. I only said I would try."

"Yes, of course. I understand." He gave her a broad smile.

She held up a finger. "There's just one more thing."

The muscles around his jaw grew taut. "Yes?"

"If Cinderella does come to the castle, then it's all on you. I wash my hands of the whole affair from this point on. Whatever happens from this time henceforth is on your head."

"Yes, mother," he said hurriedly. "Whatever you say." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I must be going."

"Going? Where?"

"I've got to tell Cinderella the good news. I'll be home after dark. Don't wait up," he called as he darted out the door.

Wisteria watched him go, then turned to the cauldron. The boiling liquid matched her tumultuous thoughts. If only Rushton would listen to her. If things kept following their current path, Cinderella would be Rushton's undoing, just as surely as Aalexander had been hers. She was not about to hand her son over to that peasant girl without a fight. A calm, steady knowledge flowed into her veins, as the beginnings of a plan began to take shape. She would expose Cinderella for the parasite she was. It would be painful for Rushton in the beginning, but a necessary step if she were going to save him. She clenched her fists. And save him she must... even if that meant saving him from himself.

## Chapter Eleven

# The New English Teacher

Edward was already at the locker by the time Elle got there. She straightened her shoulders and readied herself for the encounter. When she stepped up beside him he gave her a curt nod. "Hey," he said, his tone aloof.

"Hey," she said back, trying to sound as disinterested as he.

She watched as he reached for his English book. She was about to grab hers, but he surprised her by handing it to her. "Thanks," she mumbled. Miracles never ceased. Was he actually being nice to her? They were both headed to English, and it would be awkward for them to walk together, since Edward was making it obvious he had no desire to patch things up or even talk to her. She turned to go so that she could get a head start.

"Elle."

She stopped and slowly turned back around to face him. "Yes?"

He gave her an appraising look. "You look good."

A jolt of warmth shot through her. "Thanks."

"We need to talk."

She lifted an eyebrow. Really? A strange turn of events considering that he was doing his best to try and avoid her. "Okay... when?"

"I'll come over tonight after football practice is over. Around eight?"

She thought for a minute. She had to start work today at The Chocolate Fountain, but she would most likely be home by then... she hoped. "Eight thirty?"

He flashed an amused smile as if he thought she was pushing back the time and playing hard-to-get.

"Okay, then. Eight thirty. It's a date." He gave her a long look, his hazel eyes searching hers. Something about his expression evoked a long-forgotten ache. For some unknown reason, she felt a mixture of compassion and guilt. She nearly laughed out loud at the thought. She had nothing to feel guilty about! She gave him a questioning look.

"What?" she said softly.

He shook his head. "Tonight."

"Okay." She thought he might walk her to class, but he kept standing there at the locker, so she finally turned and started walking alone, trying to figure out what it was that Edward Kingsley wanted from her.

When Elle stepped into the classroom, she zeroed in on Rush first thing. The pull to him was so strong it was as if he were the only other person in the room. Whatever this was between them—it was getting ridiculous! Avoiding eye contact, she walked down the aisle and took her assigned seat, directly in front of him. She was keenly aware that he was sitting there, right behind her. It was silly to ignore him, considering that they'd shared a moment together on the roof, but she didn't feel like she could just turn around and start talking to him. Plus, Edward was sitting on the other side of the room. Not that she owed anything to Edward, but still... She didn't want the whole school thinking she and Rush were a couple. Edward acted as if he wanted to patch things up, but that would change the minute he saw her talking to Rush. Did she want to patch things up with Edward? At this point, she wasn't sure. And what in the heck was going on between her and Rush? Should she turn around or keep looking straight ahead?

Five minutes passed, with her agonizing all the while about what to do. Miss Caskill hadn't come into the classroom. Another three minutes went by, still no sign of Miss Caskill. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. She turned around. "Hey," she said casually.

He looked surprised. "Hey."

She wasn't sure what else to say. Especially considering she couldn't say the one thing that was running through her mind— _gee, you really are devastatingly handsome, and I especially love the way that wisp of hair falls over your brow._ _I'm pretty sure I had a steamy dream about you, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it was about—only that I woke up this morning with you on the brain, and I've been able to think of nothing else ever since._ Nope, she certainly couldn't say that! Conversation had been so easy on the roof, but here in the classroom it was entirely different. "How are things going?" Geez! That came out sounding stupid. Her voice sounded unnaturally high in her own ears, and she could only imagine how it sounded to Rush.

"Fine." A trace of amusement flickered in his eyes.

Irritation clouded her. He was taking great pleasure in her discomfort, and judging by his one-liners, he wasn't going to contribute a thing to the conversation. "All ridy then," she quipped, turning back around, her face burning.

A shiver trickled down her spine when he leaned up and whispered in her ear. "So I take it we're talking to each other in public now? I guess those truffles were more powerful than I thought."

Her eyes went wide, and she jerked around, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but his attention was elsewhere. He was looking straight ahead, a taut expression on his face. Then she heard the murmurs of excitement rippling through the classroom. She turned back around to see what all the commotion was about.

It was not Miss Caskill but another teacher that had entered the classroom. To say this woman was attractive would've been a gross understatement. With her thick, wavy hair and perfect figure, she could've given Angelina Jolie a run for her money. She wrote her name on the board: _Ms. Wisteria Porter_. There was something familiar about the confident, almost haughty carriage of her shoulders and the defiant way her chin jutted out. _What was it about her that was so familiar?_ It went through her mind that _Porter_ was Rush's last name, but _Porter_ was a common name, so she didn't think much about it.

A low whistle came from the desk to her immediate left. "What a looker! I wouldn't mind slipping her some tongue, if you know what I mean," the guy whispered. It was the same guy that had congratulated Rush for kissing her on the field. She shook her head in disgust. _What a moron._ Guys like that talked big but didn't know the first thing about women. What she didn't expect to hear was Rush swearing under his breath.

"Shut your mouth," he muttered, "or I'll shut it for you."

Out of her peripheral vision, Elle saw the moron's eyes widen before he clamped his lips shut. Then it all came together in one swift motion as the teacher introduced herself. Rush had told her his mother was an English teacher. What he neglected to tell her was that his mother was about to become _their_ English teacher.

"I'm Wisteria Porter," she said, pointing to the board, "the newest teacher at Castle High. I'll be taking Miss Caskill's place."

"What happened to Miss Caskill?" This came from Lynessa. Elle had to bite back a smile when she saw the scornful look Lynessa was giving Ms. Porter. Lynessa couldn't stand the thoughts of another woman, young or old, looking better than she.

"Miss Caskill transferred to another school. Some sort of a promotion, I'm told." The answer was to the point, leaving no room for further questions about Mrs. Caskill. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone was particularly fond of the old battle-ax. Elle, for one, was glad to see her go.

Ms. Porter scoped the room, sizing up the students, until her eyes rested on Elle, and she could sense the disapproval emanating from those fierce eyes. It unnerved her to know that another person detested her, for no good reason. "I look forward to getting to know all of you. You will start out on equal footing. I will give you every opportunity to excel... unless you prove otherwise."

Elle looked away from Ms. Porter's intense gaze. She'd never done anything to this woman. Why did she get the feeling she already had a mark against her? As soon as she thought the question, the answer came. _Rush._ Ms. Porter disliked her because of Rush.

"It's especially a privilege to have my son in the class." Ms. Porter motioned. "Rush." All eyes turned to Rush, and the moron in the adjacent desk groaned.

"Sorry, dude, I didn't mean to insult your mom," he whispered.

"Nothing like having your mother for a teacher," Rush said. "She keeps me on a tight leash, especially when it comes to homework."

This brought chortles of laughter from around the room.

Rush had spoken the words easily enough, but Elle could hear the strain in his voice. Fleetingly, she wondered when it was that she'd become connected with him enough to detect his emotions, solely by the sound of his voice.

Ms. Porter walked around the front of the desk and leaned against it. "We'll be studying a series of plays, beginning with Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet."

Elle was guessing that the male students in the class, with the exception of Rush, were hardly listening to a word she was saying and were more concerned with watching how the pencil skirt kept lifting up ever so slightly above her knees, revealing a set of shapely legs.

"Romeo and Juliet were two star-crossed lovers that defied their families the Capulets and Montagues in their efforts to be together despite all obstacles. As we study this play, there are several questions I want you to think about. The first of which is this: Romeo and Juliet fall madly in love at first sight. Is that realistic?" She looked around the room, expectantly waiting for an answer. When none came, she picked up a clipboard. "Let's see," she said, trailing her finger down the roll. "Blake Owens, do you believe in love at first sight?"

A rumble came from the back section where Edward was sitting. A few chuckles sounded. Elle looked over to see the heavyset guy sitting directly in front of Edward. He seemed to be ducking underneath the question.

Ms. Porter looked straight at him, her intense gaze reminding Elle of laser-beams.

"I suppose I believe in love at first sight... if she's good-looking," he sniggered. The guy sitting across from him gave him a high five.

A mousy-looking girl with glasses, sitting on the front row, raised her hand. "I think love at first sight is a bunch of drivel. Love should be based on similar interests and likes. Compatibility plays a large factor in human relationships. Statistics show that couples who have more in common have happier and healthier relationships."

Ms. Porter pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "Interesting concept." She cocked her head. "Your name?"

"Monica Morton," the girl said.

"Thank you, Monica. I'm not sure if Shakespeare would agree with you, but a valid point nonetheless. Here's another question for the girls in the room. If you were Juliet, would you possess the strength to go against your family to be with the one you love? Would you defy convention, or would you crumble under the pressure?" She looked around the room, her eyes once again settling on Elle.

Elle's heart began to pound. This wasn't a question about Romeo and Juliet, this was a direct question about her and Rush. She looked down at her desk.

"Would anyone like to answer that question?" Ms. Porter said. "Or shall I call on someone?"

_Someone answer the stupid question. Otherwise she's going to call on me!_ Elle kept pleading silently for someone... anyone to come to her aid.

"I'll answer it," Lynessa said. "True love defies all boundaries. If you truly love someone,then it shouldn't matter what your family thinks. If you're not brave enough to embrace true love when it comes, then you don't deserve it to begin with."

Ms. Porter nodded. "Well said, Miss..."

"Lynessa."

"Well said, Lynessa." She flashed an approving smile. "Okay, all of you gentlemen in the classroom, I'd pay attention to this girl, if I were you. She knows what she wants and is not afraid to go after it."

Lynessa beamed. Elle's mouth twisted. From what she knew of Lynessa, the girl had never stood up for anything a day in her life. She was simply kissing up to the teacher.

"Elle, you don't agree?"

It took her a minute to realize Ms. Porter was talking to her. "I'm sorry," she stumbled, "I didn't hear the question."

Ms. Porter's eyes met hers. "You had a doubtful expression on your face when Lynessa was talking. I'm thinking, perhaps, that you don't agree with what she said?"

All eyes turned to Elle. Lynessa was shooting daggers at her.

At that moment, she hated Ms. Porter. She hated her for putting her on the spot and making her feel like a dipwad. "No," she croaked. "I don't disagree with what Lynessa was saying..."

"But?" Ms. Porter prompted.

She met Lynessa's glare full on. "I'm sure at this moment in this classroom Lynessa truly believes she would brave true love at all costs, but that's easier said than done."

Lynessa scoffed. "That's ridiculous," she pouted, flipping her hair.

Ms. Porter arched an eyebrow. "Are you speaking from experience?"

She knew that both Edward and Rush were waiting to hear how she would answer. She swallowed hard, trying to figure out a way to finagle out of this land mine without getting her head blown off. "I'm just saying that none of us knows for sure how we'll react in a given situation until we're actually put in it."

"Interesting," Ms. Porter said. "Very interesting." She turned her attention to the chalkboard. "I'm going to write down a series of questions, which you will need to answer before the next class."

Everyone started opening notebooks.

_Interesting?_ What did that mean? Elle got the feeling she'd been given some impromptu test—a test that she failed miserably! No matter what she did, she was always coming up short. She didn't dare look at Edward or Rush, but kept her eyes glued to her notebook for the remainder of the class.

## Chapter Twelve

# The Band

"Well, what do you think?" Rae's arm spanned over the garage, her eyes full of cautious hope.

Elle looked around the garage that had been transformed into a makeshift music studio complete with a set of drums, guitars, a keyboard, amplifiers, and microphones. When Rae told her she wanted to show her something at her house, she had no idea it would be this. "This is really something." She wasn't sure what Rae wanted her to say, but judging from the way her lips turned down at the corners, that was not it. "Are you part of a band?" she asked cautiously. Lately, everything she said seemed to come out wrong, and the last thing she wanted to do was ostracize the one friend she had.

Rae threw up her arms. "Does none of this seem familiar to you? I thought for sure you'd remember something."

"I'm sorry," Elle said, shaking her head. She panicked a little when she saw Rae's crestfallen expression. She had to do something—fast! She feigned thinking. "Wait a minute! I am starting to remember something."

Rae perked up instantly. "Really?"

Elle smiled. "Really. You're in a band, and I come and watch you all the time."

"No!" Rae's face fell. "We, _you and I_ , are in a band."

She scrunched her nose. "Really?" She wouldn't have guessed that in a million years. She looked at the drums. "What do I play?"

"The bass guitar, and you sing backup."

She wasn't sure she heard her correctly. "I play bass. Me?"

Rae laughed. "Well, sort of. You do the best you can."

"Gee, thanks." Elle rolled her eyes. "What do you do?"

"I play keyboard and sing."

Elle pointed at the drums. "Who plays those?"

"That would be me."

She turned and looked at the tall, gangly guy with longer hair. She'd seen him in the school cafeteria. Normally, she wouldn't have paid any attention to him, but he was sitting with Rush. He peeled off his thin jacket and tossed it onto a nearby stool. He sat down behind the drums, rolled up his sleeves, picked up a set of drumsticks and began pounding out a complex rhythm. His head bounced along with the beat, causing his hair to flop in his eyes. With his angular features and thin face, he didn't have the same movie-star looks as Rush and Edward, but there was something... a casual confidence maybe... that made him very attractive. She fleetingly wondered if there was something going on between him and Rae, but then she looked over and saw that Rae had a scowl on her face. Rae shook her head. "Show off!" she mouthed at him.

He laughed and blew her a kiss.

"You're really good," Elle said.

He winked at Elle and then twirled the drumsticks in the air. "See, someone appreciates my genius."

Rae rolled her eyes. "Pleeaassee! Don't encourage him. Jack thinks he's a king, just because he can do a complex sequence."

Jack's eyebrows bobbed up and down. "Not jealous, are you Rae?" He pinged the hi-hat cymbals a few times and then followed it up with a grand finale on the crash cymbal.

"Not hardly," she scoffed.

Elle shook her head. She knew the names of the cymbals. Progress! Maybe she was starting to remember. Excitement filled her, and she looked around, searching for something else that she would recognize.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. My mom needed help organizing her classroom."

The voice stopped her cold. It seemed she'd found the one thing she recognized instantly—Rush's voice. She turned. He took one look at her, and then shot Rae an accusing look. "What's she doing here?"

"She's as much a part of this band as any one of us," Rae said evenly.

It stung knowing that Rush didn't want her here. Elle shot him a nasty look.

He held up his hands in defense. "It's not that I mind her being here, per se... I just thought we were going to let her remember things on her terms, not ours."

Rae crossed her arms over her chest. "She just needed a little push, that's all. She did remember the band..." she wrinkled her nose "... sort of."

Rush picked up a guitar and placed the strap over his shoulder. "If she's gonna be a part of the band, then she's gonna have to be committed. Not like before."

"She's a different person now," Rae said, running a hand through her short hair. "Why can't you see that?"

_Not like before?_ What was he getting at? Elle gritted her teeth. "I'm right here! Hearing everything you're saying! Quit talking around me as if I don't exist." She eyed them all, daring them to contradict her.

"Touché," Jack said, tapping on the snare.

Rush gave Elle a pointed look. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

She gave him a dark look. "Moron," she muttered under her breath.

"Coward," Rush shot back.

She spun at him. "What's that's supposed to mean?"

" _None of us knows for sure how we'll react in a given situation, until we're actually put into it_ , isn't that right, Elle?"

Her face burned. She'd known from the very minute she'd spoken those words in English that Rush would use them against her. "How dare you!"

He lifted an eyebrow. "How dare me? How dare you!" He shook his head in disgust. "It's obvious you have no intention of admitting how you really feel... about anything!"

A searing anger flooded Elle, and she had the brief sensation her head was splitting in two. She glared at Rush. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Jack started clucking his tongue. "These lover spats are brutal. Well, that's one thing that hasn't changed." He chuckled, pointing a drumstick at Elle. "Rush, my brother, girls like her are the reason I'm still single."

"You're still single because no one will have you," Rae countered.

"You know you want some of this," Jack said, flexing his bicep and blowing her a kiss.

Blood was pounding furiously in Elle's ears. She looked at Rae. "This was a mistake! I shouldn't have come." She reached for her backpack.

"That's right," Rush said, "just keep running away like you always do."

Elle gave him a withering look and turned to go, her eyes were burning. "Stop it!" Rae yelled. "Stop!"

Elle turned around. "What?" she yelled hotly. She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears.

Rae looked back and forth between Rush and Elle. "I don't know what's going on between the two of you... and I really don't care! Whatever this thing is... stuff it! We're all members of this band." She gave Elle a pointed look. "You promised that you would see this through. I do cheerleading with you, and you do the band. End of story!" Her chin was rock hard, and there was something warrior-like in the way her green eyes glittered in defiance. She eyed Rush first. His jaw started working like he wanted to protest.

"Fine," he huffed, turning his attention to the guitar.

Rae looked at Elle. "Well?"

"Okay," Elle said, blowing out a breath. Of course she had no memory of any promise, but she valued Rae's friendship and being a part of a band seemed a lot more exciting than cheerleading.

Rae nodded. "Good."

Elle just stood there, not sure what to do until Rae pointed. "Your spot is over there on the bass guitar, remember?" There was a kind look on her face.

Rush rolled his eyes like she was an idiot for not remembering.

"I know where I'm supposed to be," Elle said hotly. She picked up the bass guitar and strapped it over her shoulder.

Rush chuckled.

"What?" she demanded.

Rae was trying to bite back a smile. "Um... the strap goes the other way."

Heat crept up Elle's neck. "Oh... thanks," she mumbled, correcting her mistake.

Rae took charge. "Okay, people, before we start practicing, we need to discuss a few things. First of all, Rush thinks he might be able to get us a paying gig at his mom's nightclub."

"Cool!" Jack said, twirling a drumstick between his fingers.

"Only seventy-five dollars for the evening, but it's a start," Rush said.

Elle knew she should just keep her mouth shut, but curiosity got the best of her. "But your mom's a teacher."

"Yeah, but she also sings part-time at a nightclub," Rae explained, adjusting the microphone. "Try-outs for the formal are next Thursday."

"Try-outs?" Elle swallowed hard. How was she supposed to do some try-out when she couldn't even remember how to hold a bass guitar, much less play one? "What try-outs?"

Unlike Rush, who was acting as if he would blow a pipe if Elle asked one more thing, Rae didn't seem the least bit put-out by her questions. "Try-outs for the Castle High Formal." She waved her hand in the air, her voice taking on an exaggerated dreamy quality. " _Enchantment Under the Stars_ , it's called, our very own fairytale ball. How romantic," she finished sarcastically.

Jack scoffed. "You're such a dreamer."

When Rae thrust her tongue out at him he laughed and waved a hand at her. "How many bands will be picked?"

"Two." Rae grasped the microphone in the palm of her hand.

Elle stated the obvious. "So, I guess this try-out is a pretty big deal."

Rae nodded. "It'll give us the clout we need to get better gigs. There's one more thing... um... how do I put this?" She started drumming her fingers on the microphone.

"Uh oh." Jack made a face, "It's never a good sign when she starts drumming."

Rae shot him a death glare. "Shut up, Jack!"

" _Shut up, Jack_ ," he mimicked. His eyes twinkled in amusement when Rae's face became the color of her hair. Elle stood corrected. It was looking more and more like there was something going on between Rae and Jack. Or at the very least, Jack was getting great pleasure out of tormenting her, and she was certainly making herself an easy target.

"Spill it!" Rush said.

Rae's hand went to her hip. "Okay, here goes... I'm afraid we aren't going to be able to practice in the garage for much longer."

Rush eyed her. "How much longer?"

"A couple more days... at best."

Rush let out a groan and Jack started swearing. "Why not?" Jack demanded.

"The neighbors are complaining about the noise, and my dad wants to reclaim the garage as a workroom."

Jack pounded a hand on his leg. "Well, that's just dandy! Great news, Rae!" He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Great news!"

Rae's eyes narrowed. "You don't have to act so smart about it."

Jack met her glare full on. "Well, you're the brains behind the organization, so tell me, where are we gonna practice?" He rubbed his hands on his jeans. "You're the only one of us that has a place. My old man would never allow it, Rush doesn't have any room at his house, and Elle's dragon stepmother would never go for it."

Elle felt a momentary twist of shock. She hadn't realized that it was common knowledge amongst her friends that her stepmother was a wench.

Rae rubbed her forehead. "I don't know. I've been wracking my brain, trying to come up with a solution..."

"Well, we'd better come up with something... fast!" Jack snapped.

"I know," Rae said, shaking her head. "I know." She was gripping the microphone so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

Rush shot Jack a warning look. "Lay off, she's doing the best she can."

Jack shook his head. "Whatever you say, man."

It pained Elle to see Rae so distraught. She thought for a minute. There must be some solution. She glanced at the clock. It was a quarter till six. Rae had finagled a way to get the two of them out of cheerleading practice early today under the guise of needing help with something at her house. Even though Adele didn't specify a particular time that she was supposed to show up for work, Elle knew she needed to get there soon. Suddenly, a ridiculous thought formed in her head. What if... ? She squelched the thought. There was no way she could suggest something so absurd. Still, the thought wrangled around in her head. Then, the words issued out before she could call them back. "We can practice at The Chocolate Fountain. My aunt won't mind."

All eyes turned to her. Rae was the first to speak. "What?"

What had she just said? Was she freakin' losing it? There was no way they could practice at The Chocolate Fountain. She was lucky that Adele had offered her a job, there was no way she could ask her to let the band practice there.

"Awesome!" Jack said. "Drumming and chocolate, it doesn't get much better than that." He shot Elle an admiring look. "Debutante comes through in the end. Sick!"

"That's fantastic!" Rae exclaimed, beaming.

If Elle had an ounce of sense in her brain, she would've retracted the offer right then and there, but Rae was looking at her with such adoration that you would've thought she'd done something spectacular, like solve world hunger, rather than offer a place to practice. Even Rush looked impressed. His eyes met hers, and she could tell that his estimation of her had risen, which wasn't saying much, but it was something.

"See, another example of how valuable Elle is to our band," Rae said looking at Rush. She clasped her hands together. "Okay, let's run through a couple of songs, and then Elle needs to go. She's starting work this evening at The Chocolate Fountain." She looked at Rush. "She'll need a ride."

He made a face. "Fine."

Elle had a good mind to tell him she wouldn't accept a ride from him if her life depended on it. But, the painful truth was that she did need a ride, and while her life wasn't in jeopardy, her sanity was. Sera was driving her crazy, and if the job with Adele didn't work out she'd be forced to do all the other horrible alternatives Sera had lined up. She should've been appreciative of Rae's efforts to get her a ride, but she felt a twinge of irritation instead. All afternoon Elle had been telling Rae that she needed to get to work, but it didn't seem to be sinking in... until now—now that Rae needed something.

"Cool, free chocolate," Jack said.

Rae cut her eyes at him. "You wish!" She looked at Elle. "Maybe you'll get a chance to talk to your aunt about us practicing there."

Elle forced a smile. "Yeah... maybe."

## Chapter Thirteen

# The Chocolate Fountain

"Better hold on," Rush called over his shoulder as he revved up the engine on his motorcycle.

Elle nodded and begrudgingly put her arms around his waist. The physical reaction was so swift that she went dizzy for a second, and she had to remind herself that the only reason he was taking her to work was because Rae cajoled him into it. It was ridiculous to be this attracted to a guy that was so wishy-washy. One minute he was agreeing to put the past behind them and start fresh, and the next, he was throwing her weakness in her face. So what if she'd said what she did in his mother's stupid class. _So what!_ And she had a sneaking suspicion that Ms. Porter had orchestrated the whole thing, just so Rush could hear her say it. Ms. Porter had obviously recognized her, meaning that she'd been to Rush's house a few times—no surprise considering they were next-door neighbors. A horrific thought entered her head: Had Rush told his mother details of their relationship? She shuddered. That would be creepy. He didn't seem like the sharing type, though. She felt his muscles grow taut underneath his jacket, distracting her from her thoughts, as he maneuvered the bike around a curve. It forced Elle to lean into him. Her breath caught. His nearness was intoxicating. Every cell in her body thrilled at being near him, but her head knew better. She allowed herself one whiff of his leather jacket before scooting back on the seat, as far away from him as she could, while still holding onto his waist.

A strand of his hair whipped her across her face, a cutting reminder that she was the reason he wasn't wearing a helmet. He'd not planned on taking her to work, so he only had one helmet. Despite her protests, he'd insisted that she be the one to wear it. "I'll be fine," he said with a crooked smile that made her go weak in the knees. Despite his flaws, he was a gentleman, even though it pained her to admit it. He'd willingly come to her aid time and time again, which was a lot more than she could say for Edward. She scowled at the thought. They turned onto an open stretch of road, and he crouched forward into the bike. Centripetal force pushed her close against his back. She fleetingly wondered if he'd sped up on purpose, just so that would happen. The world was whizzing past in a blur. She closed her eyes, releasing her thoughts to the swirling movement around them. In that tiny moment, she felt free from all of the problems. Rush was the only other person in the world. They were riding along—no galloping. She was wearing a long dress, and they were on a horse. The love she felt for him was burning—all consuming. She could hardly breathe. Every hope she could ever have was tied to him. He was more than her love, he was her all.

"Elle?"

She shook her head. They were still on the bike, and Rush was looking back at her funny.

"What?"

"You zoned out... or something."

She shook her head, remembering the crazy thoughts that had overruled her good sense. _They were on a horse? Galloping across a meadow? Really?_ She was losing it, for sure.

"We're here," Rush said. "That means, you can let go of me now."

Her face flamed when she realized that she was still pressed close against him, holding on for all she was worth. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. She let go of his waist and scooted back. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He chuckled and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "You know, Elle, if you want to go out on a date, all you have to do is ask."

Hot prickles pelted her, making her humiliation complete. "Thanks for the ride," she said stiffly, getting off the bike. She removed the helmet and handed it to him.

"Hey there, I was wondering when you were going to arrive."

Elle turned and saw Adele standing on the porch. She donned another flowing dress, this one had pink and orange swirls. Adele walked down the steps. She peered at Rush over her turquoise glasses. "I see you brought a friend." She gave him an appraising look.

Elle did the introductions. "This is Rush. Rush, this is my aunt Adele."

"Pleased to meet you." Rush extended a hand. Elle smiled inwardly when she saw Rush's gaze settle on Adele's corkscrew hair poking out wildly in all directions.

Adele clasped his hand and then placed her other hand over the top. "I was wondering when I would finally have the opportunity to meet you." She cut her eyes at Elle. "I've heard so much about you."

Rush looked surprised and then amused. He directed a questioning look at Elle. Of all the ridiculous things for Adele to say! How could she explain to Rush that her aunt was a touch loony? There was nothing she could do but stand there and look stupid.

Adele linked her arm through Rush's. "Come inside."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on going in, I was just dropping off Elle." The words spilled out so quickly that it was obvious he was trying to get away.

"Of course you were, dear," Adele said with a broad smile. She pointed. "Park your bike over there, and join us inside."

His eyes widened, and he started shifting back and forth. "I really can't stay, I have to get home and do some homework."

Elle bit back a smile. It was fun watching him squirm.

Adele cocked her head. "Okay, if you must go, you must. Pity though, I was planning on showing you kids around the building."

"Some other time," Rush said. He looked like he might sprout wings and fly off if he had to stay a minute longer. He placed the helmet on his head and began adjusting the strap.

"I suppose the practice room will have to wait," Adele said, giving him a speculative look.

Elle's jaw dropped. What did she say?

Rush stopped. "I'm sorry?"

"The practice room." Adele gave him a smile that held a hint of reproof. "It was my understanding that you and your fellow band members were in need of a place to practice. Perhaps I was wrong." She shrugged. "My mistake."

Rush shot Elle an incredulous look to which she could only shrug. Maybe Adele was clairvoyant. Somehow she'd known she needed a job and now this.

Adele started walking up the steps leading to The Chocolate Fountain.

"Wait!" Rush called after her.

She turned.

"I've got time to take a tour," he said, ripping off his helmet. "I'll park my bike and be right in."

"Yes, I thought so," Adele said thoughtfully. "Come, Elle, there's much I want to show you."

"B-but how?" Elle blustered, following behind her. "How did you know we needed a place to practice? And how did you know I needed a job? And, the words on the paper... they magically appeared."

A mysterious smile curved the older woman's lips. "A lady never divulges her secrets, dear."

Elle started wringing her hands. "But—"

Adele held a finger to her lips. "Shh... come."

By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Elle was swimming in chocolate... literally! A woman of her word, Adele had taken Elle and Rush on a tour of the building. She'd explained that she wasn't using the attic at the moment, so they could practice there. The attic was at least three times larger than Rae's garage and much nicer. Elle couldn't believe their good fortune, but Rush wasn't convinced. "But won't the noise bother the customers?" he had asked. "We really appreciate your help, but we don't want it to hurt your business."

Elle couldn't believe her ears. Adele was offering them a place to practice... a solution, and Rush was throwing a monkey wrench in it!

Adele smiled. "How thoughtful of you to be concerned with the customers." She gave Elle a censured look.

Elle rocked back, stunned. The sting of embarrassment crept up her neck. Adele had read her thoughts... she was sure of it!

"Most people would be worried about themselves, but you..." Adele turned her full attention to Rush, giving him a glowing look, bordering on adoration. "My dear boy, you're just as kind as Merek said you were, but you need not worry yourself with the noise. I'll take care of that."

"Who's Merek," Rush whispered in Elle's ear when Adele wasn't looking.

"I haven't the slightest," Elle whispered back. Later in private she would have to explain her aunt's eccentricity, although, she herself was having a hard time figuring out her aunt. How was she supposed to explain her to anyone else?

After Rush left, Adele turned to Elle. "Let's go to the kitchen, and I'll show you how to pour chocolate."

It was on the tip of Elle's tongue to apologize for her earlier thoughts, but then she realized how ridiculous that would be. They were thoughts, for goodness sakes.

Adele patted her on the hand. "No need to worry. No one is perfect, dear."

Words couldn't express the confusion she was feeling over Adele, so she just shook her head.

"By the way, how's his mother doing?"

"Ms. Porter?"

"Yes."

"How do you know his mother?"

Adele flashed a cryptic smile. "We go way... way back."

Elle made a face. "Really?" She paused. "I don't think she likes me very much."

"So, you've figured that part out, huh? Smart girl."

"What?" She shook her head. She'd expected Adele to say something soothing like, _Of course she likes you, dear. How could she not?_ But to flat-out agree with her? It was unnerving to say the least. "I don't understand... what do you mean?"

Adele looked at the ceiling. "Oh, puddle wax! Here I go again, saying too much." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you even start with me, Merek!"

Merek? That's the name Adele had mentioned earlier. "Who's Merek?"

Adele's face turned cherry red. "Oh, drats!" She clenched her fists. "Enough talk! We've got work to do."

And so they poured chocolate. They poured at least a hundred molds each of milk, dark, and white chocolate, totaling over three hundred molds. And they did it all in the midst of Adele running back and forth to wait on customers. Elle let out a grateful sigh when the last bowl was washed and the counters wiped clean. Adele removed her apron the minute the cuckoo clock chimed eight o'clock. "Time to close up shop for the day." She motioned. "Come, I'll show you how to close down the register."

That's when Elle felt a flash of panic. How was she going to get home? She'd completely forgotten about that. She hated to ask Adele, but asking her was better than asking Sera. She cleared her throat. "Um, would you mind giving me a ride home?"

"Why of course, dear, but I don't think that's going to be necessary."

"It's not?" Elle said, dubiously.

"No." Adele gave her a mischievous smile. She looked toward the door. "I'm thinking that you would rather have him take you home."

Elle looked at the closed door and then through the lace curtains to the empty porch. Who was Adele talking about? There was no one there.

"Merek?" she asked carefully. She was beginning to think that Merek was a figment of Adele's imagination.

Adele looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Merek?" She laughed. "Not hardly, Merek doesn't drive. I'd wager Merek couldn't drive a car if his life depended on it." She looked at the ceiling. "Isn't that right?"

Elle was sorry she'd asked. She certainly didn't want to encourage Adele's strange behavior. "If you don't mind taking me home, I would certainly appreciate it," she began again. The last thing she wanted to do was to walk home in the dark.

"No, dear, he's going to take you home." She spoke slowly as if she were speaking to a small child that was slow to understand. There was no talking sensibly to her aunt. All it did was annoy the heck out of her and frustrate Adele. "Okay," Elle said, "I'll get _him_ to take me home." Great! Now she would have to walk home for sure.

Adele gave her a quirky look.

"What?" Elle blurted. The woman could be so exasperating!

She winked. "Wait for it... wait for it..."

The door opened, and Elle about fell onto the floor when Edward walked in.

He looked surprised and a little embarrassed when he saw Elle standing behind the counter. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I was just... um... I mean..." He shifted nervously. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, I just started working here today," she explained. "This is my aunt, Adele."

Adele extended her hand. "Hi, Edward, it's nice to meet you."

He shook her hand and then looked thoughtful. "How did you know my name?"

She smiled. "Castle High's notorious quarterback. Your reputation precedes you."

"Oh." He pulled at the neck of his t-shirt. "Thanks."

Elle looked sideways at Adele. "I didn't know you followed football."

She shrugged. "I don't."

"Okay," Elle said, not sure what to make of that comment.

Adele looked at Edward. "I'm guessing you stopped by to buy my lovely niece some chocolate. Am I right?"

Edward's eyes went big, and he turned about ten shades of red. "Yeah... um... I guess I was planning on getting Elle some chocolate." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

It was Elle's turn to be surprised. He was getting her chocolate? Did that mean he wanted to get back together?

Adele motioned at the case. "So, Elle, what kind of chocolate would you like Edward to buy you?"

Elle wanted to crawl under the floor. Was Adele trying to make things uncomfortable? "I really don't need anything."

"Well of course you do," Adele said, reaching for a box. "You love the white truffles." She started placing truffles into the box. "And these nut clusters are to die for."

She looked at Edward, sizing him up. "And you... you strike me as the peanut brittle type."

Edward's jaw dropped. "I love peanut brittle."

"Yes, I know."

He looked stunned. "You do?"

Adele nodded. "Alridy then. I'm going to throw in some chocolate chip cookies and cream cheese brownies for good measure." She closed the box and started punching in numbers on the register. "Your total is $16.75."

Edward pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty.

"$3.25 is your change." She handed him the money and turned to Elle. "You're free to leave. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, see you then."

"Tell Rush and the other band members that they can start moving their things in tomorrow."

Elle saw Edward's jaw tighten at the mention of Rush's name. She fleetingly wondered if Edward even knew she was part of a band.

"Edward will give you a ride home... since he was headed to your house anyway." Adele looked straight at Edward. "Won't you, dear?"

He had a deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Uh... yeah... sure..."

Elle hurriedly grabbed her stuff, before Adele could say any more crazy things to Edward.

"Nice car," Elle took in the sleek lines of the yellow and black refurbished Mustang.

"Thanks," Edward said nonchalantly, but she could tell that it was his pride and joy. "It's a 1969."

They drove home in silence, and all the while, Elle was trying to figure out what it was that Edward wanted to talk to her about. She kept waiting for him to broach the subject, but he didn't seem nearly as bothered by the silence as she did. Finally they pulled up in front of her house. When Edward didn't make a move to speak, Elle reached for the door. "Well... thanks for the ride."

"Wait." He turned in his seat so that he was facing her. "I know things have been tense between us ever since homecoming."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Look, I'm sorry I wasn't able to escort you onto the field."

"You ran off the field and left me standing there, Edward. I felt like a complete idiot."

"I know." His jaw tensed. "Coach Harris was being a real butt. I tried to tell him that you were waiting for me to escort you, but he said I had to choose between the team and you. I didn't know what to do, so I... " He shook his head, unable to continue.

"You chose the team," she finished for him. The comment was a punch in the gut.

"Yeah... I... the team's counting on me to carry them through the season. I've got so much invested in it... I didn't have much of a choice."

"I see." The words came out harsher than she'd intended. While a part of her understood his dilemma, the other part—the larger part—was still hurt. It felt like a betrayal.

He clenched his fist. "I just want things to be right between us again. We've been together since junior high."

She didn't realize they'd been together that long. Funny, she'd never thought to ask. Then again, she and Edward hadn't exactly been on speaking terms lately.

He gave her a pleading look. "I care about you, Elle." He scooted closer to her, and she could see the sincerity emanating from his eyes. She felt herself soften. "I want another chance, a chance to make things right between us. Will you give me that , Elle?" His voice grew husky, and his eyes went to her lips, causing a tingle to run down her spine. He touched a strand of her hair. "Will you give me that? Will you give _us_ that? We're good together."

Her pulse quickened as she searched for the right words. What did she want? At the moment, she didn't have a clue. She studied the lines of Edward's face, trying to figure out why she felt like she owed him something. Maybe it was because they had been together so long. All those years before the accident they'd been together. He was everything a girl could want—football hero and very handsome with his even features and mop of blonde hair, longer in the front, that occasionally flopped down over one eye. He was... she sought for the right word to describe him... comfortable. Yes, that was it. Being around Edward felt safe and comfortable. He didn't release the torrent of emotions in her that Rush did, and that was a good thing. Maybe she should just let him kiss her so everything would be back to the way it was before the accident. She leaned in and parted her lips. Edward gave her a small smile and leaned in to meet her halfway. The instant before their lips touched, she saw him. "Rush," she muttered.

Edward jumped back like he'd been slapped. A furious expression twisted his face. "What did you call me?"

She shook her head. "No! I meant that I see Rush, sitting on his front porch—watching us."

Edward glared out the window. "What does he think he's doing?"

"Probably just sitting on his front porch. I mean, he does live there," Elle said, even though she knew better. Even from the car, she'd seen the black look on Rush's face in the moment before she almost kissed Edward. She could feel the condemnation radiating ripples of heat. It stripped her defenses, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

"I need to go," she said.

"No, I'm gonna go knock a plug out of that big shot right now! He's gonna learn that he can't get away with kissing my girl on the field."

Panic fluttered in Elle's breast. She grabbed his arm. "No! Please don't!"

Edward stopped to look at her. She could see suspicion creeping into his eyes. "You care about him, don't you?"

"No," she scoffed. "I can't stand the guy!"

He studied her. "You sure about that?"

"Of course, I'm sure," she slung back, eyes blazing. "The only reason I was on the field with him to begin with was because you weren't there."

"You know he's trouble, right?"

She looked him in the eye. "I told you, I don't care a flip about him." The words cut through her lips and hissed around her. _You lie!_ her mind screamed. _Why do you lie?_

"Good, because he got kicked off the team this summer because of marijuana found in his duffle bag."

An invisible fist started squeezing her heart. So the rumors were true. "He means nothing to me." She lifted her chin.

He relaxed at that and she felt a surge of relief that left her feeling exhausted. He slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Come here," he whispered.

She realized he was going to kiss her. The thought of him kissing her with Rush watching horrified her. She leaned back. "Um, I need to go."

Disappointment clouded his eyes. Reluctantly he removed his arm. She put her hand on his cheek to soften the blow. "Thanks."

"For what?"

She shrugged. "Just... thanks."

A ghost of a smile flittered on his mouth, causing his features to lighten. There was a boyish innocence about him which only added to his attractiveness. "Hey, my dad's having a little get-together on Saturday evening. Do you think you can come?"

She mentally reviewed the upcoming weekend. She'd work at The Chocolate Fountain, and the band would probably be practicing. It would be tight, but she could make it. Elle looked at his hopeful expression. "I would like that," she finally said.

This time, he gave her a real smile. It shot an arrow of warmth through her. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow at school."

She smiled back. "See you tomorrow."

"Hey." He reached for the box. "Your chocolate."

"But you didn't get to eat the peanut brittle."

"Save me some."

His intimate tone closed the distance between them, and she felt a connection. "I'll do that," she said, closing the door. She waved to him as he drove away.

She shot a scathing look in Rush's direction as she walked up the steps. He returned the look with a hateful glare of his own. He'd flat-out lied to her about football. He hadn't quit the team, he'd been kicked off. He told her he'd been unjustly accused of something. _Right!_ The most frustrating part was she did care about him, and she hadn't realized how much... until the moment she denied it to Edward. That's why it would never work between them. They were both deceivers! She went inside her house and slammed the door shut. But try as she might, she couldn't shut out the image of him, sitting on the steps with those intense blue eyes fired in her direction. At the moment, she didn't know who she hated more—Rush or herself.

## Chapter Fourteen

# The Sting of Betrayal

Sweat poured down Rush's face, stinging his eyes, as he punched the bag again and again with all of his might. He punched until he was spent, but nothing could ease the anger that was eating him from the inside out. It was starting all over again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Elle was playing him. She was up to her old tricks—sending him mixed signals while dating Edward. If she'd not seen him staring at her from the porch, she would've kissed him. A few short hours ago, she was cuddled up against him on the bike, and then she was in the car with Edward—about to kiss the jerk!

He punched the bag again, thinking how he would like to punch Edward's pretty face a time or two. For the life of him, he couldn't see what Elle saw in Edward, aside from the facts that he was passably attractive, the quarterback, the principal's son, wealthy, and popular. So, she liked him for all of those superficial reasons, and that's because she was just as shallow as Edward. She and Edward were an item when he moved to town, so why should things be any different now? How many times had she promised him that she would break things off with Edward? It was always the same old story. This time, he wasn't going to fall for her tricks. This time, he would be strong. An image of Elle, sitting on the roof, her long hair blowing in the wind, flashed through his mind. She'd looked so lost and vulnerable, and then she'd given him that silly truffle. His heart wrenched. What was it about her that consumed him so? From the moment he laid eyes on her, it was like an invisible force was pulling them together. He felt as though he'd loved her for a lifetime... maybe longer.

He gave the bag another swift jab, yanked off the gloves, and leaned his forehead against it, his breath coming in gasps. He'd hoped the punching bag would help him vent his anger, but nothing was working. He looked at the bike. A fast, hard ride would do the trick.

A few minutes later, he was suited up and ready to go.

The door leading to kitchen opened, and he saw his mother standing there. "Hey."

She leaned against the doorframe, her hands resting in her jean pockets. She motioned at the punching bag. "You were punching that thing for all it was worth."

"Just getting some exercise."

"So I noticed," she said dryly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He didn't have to look at her face to know she wasn't buying it. He was a terrible liar where his mother was concerned. She could see right through him.

"You sure about that?"

"Yep."

"Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

Wisteria raised an eyebrow. "She's not worth the effort. A zebra doesn't change its stripes."

He let out a ragged chuckle. "You're right about that."

"I ordered a pizza."

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry right now. I'm going for a ride. I'll be back soon."

She looked at him for a long moment, and he feared she might tell him to stay home. He felt like he would burst if he couldn't release these pent-up emotions. "Okay, be careful," she finally said.

His shoulders sagged in relief. "Will do." He gave her a slight smile before revving up the engine and backing out of the garage. He turned out of the driveway and onto the street, making sure to keep the speed low in case his mother was watching. It wasn't until he turned onto the open road that he let it go. Adrenaline surged through his body as the bike raced forward. The cool air felt good against his face, and he was one with the bike. The raw power was intoxicating. He leaned forward. Faster... faster! He saw the headlights coming at him in the distance. Closer... closer... The bright lights blinded him. "Turn your lights on dim, idiot!" he shouted, but the words got lost in the night air. His heart lurched when the lights swerved into him. He jerked the handlebars in an attempt to avoid a head-on collision. The vehicle whizzed past, narrowly missing him. That's when it registered he'd overcompensated to avoid the Jeep, and now he was barreling through a field. He hit the brakes, but he was going too fast to stop. The wheels locked, skidding, and he braced for impact. He was headed straight towards a black ribbon of water. At the last second before the bike plunged into the water, he dove off.

The scent of roasting boar mixed with human excrement was the first thing Rushton noticed when he awoke. Then he heard the music in the air, mingling with the dull roar of the crowd. It was the smell of tournament, where all of the classes came together in a mottled mound of human flesh comprised of royalty, nobles, and commoners. The tournament was the one event in the kingdom that yielded a paradoxical blending of opposites: the noble mixed with the poor, the beautiful with the ugly, and the savory with the unsavory. Hence the pile of manure with flies buzzing around it, not five sword lengths from where he was sitting. He cringed and averted his nose. That most assuredly had not been there when he first sat down. Rushton became aware of the hard ground underneath him and the tree at his back. A nearby commotion caught his attention, and he looked to where a fire breather was bellowing out bursts of flames amidst murmurs of awe. A dainty young maiden walked past him, giving him a tentative smile. When he lifted his hand to wave, she blushed. She was pushing a cart loaded with bread.

"Bread for sale," she yelled. "Get a fresh loaf of baked bread for only one farthing."

His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd not eaten since midday. Strings of sausages were strung over her shoulders.

"Sausages for sale," he heard her bellow as she continued walking away from him through the throng of people.

He shielded his eyes and looked up to see a man standing over him; but couldn't make out his features because the afternoon sun was directly behind him, casting a shadow over his face.

"No time for napping, squire."

He recognized the voice instantly as Prince Edward extended a hand to help him to his feet.

Rushton nodded and brushed off his clothes. He'd only meant to rest against the tree for a few moments. His exhaustion was understandable, however, due to the rigorous training that preceded each tournament. They'd been practicing for the tournament for over a week, going through all of the perfunctory drills: two-handed sword, battle axe, mace, dagger, and the lance. While the squires were required to go through the training alongside the knights, they normally weren't allowed to participate in the actual tournament. This time was different, however. King Aalexander had decreed that a portion of the tournament be reserved for squires. Of course that meant every squire over the age of twelve rushed out to sign up on the lists. For as long as Rushton could remember, the tournament for the squires was held the day before the main tournament. Never before had the squire competitions been part of the actual tournament. Rushton suspected that the change in protocol came about because Prince Edward was nearing the age of adulthood, and the king wanted him to be able to participate. For a brief moment, Rushton allowed himself the luxury of wondering what it must be like to have the rules of a tournament changed on your behalf. He wondered what it would be like to walk in Prince Edward's shoes and have every request met with the flick of a finger, but then he squelched the thought. Edward was not only the prince but also his friend. They'd been inseparable since they were lads. He didn't begrudge Edward for the privileges he enjoyed because with those privileges came a heavy mantle of responsibility.

Edward seemed oblivious to the attention he was getting as they walked through the crowd of people. An aged man with thinning hair and his plump wife bowed ceremoniously. A mother, holding a babe in her arms, paused and gave them a curtsy. Rushton acknowledged the gestures with a nod of his head, but Prince Edward didn't even look in their direction. Instead, he gave Rushton a sly smile. "A nap in the middle of the day? During tournament?" He made a tsking sound with his tongue. "I hope you're not going soft on me. I'd hate to have to best you tomorrow."

Rushton chuckled. "Best me? Aye, that would be a first, mi' lord."

Edward scowled, but his eyes were twinkling, and Rushton knew he was grateful to have a formidable opponent—one that wouldn't lie down like a sick dog and let Edward win, solely because he was Crown Prince. Rushton didn't blame the other squires for being intimidated. Willfully injuring the prince could get a man beheaded... or worse. Still, Edward deserved a fair challenge, and Rushton was more than willing to give it to him.

Rushton began rubbing his aching shoulder. Edward gave him a concerned look. "Shall we stop by the physician's pavilion and get that checked? I want you to be in tip-top shape for our challenge. That way, you won't have an excuse when I win."

He made a face. "Unfortunately, there's no treatment for sore muscles. They've been working us like cattle all week. I've lanced so many wooden targets it's a wonder that I can still move my arm." He shot Edward a sideways look. "Not all of us receive the royal treatment, your highness." He couldn't resist getting in a jab, considering Edward had only come to practice the first two days.

Accustomed to Rushton's candor, Edward was not affected in the least. He waved the comment away with a flourish of his hand. "My father summoned me to the castle. I prithee, what else could I do?"

Rushton rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Male laughter and easy banter filled the air as they maneuvered through the brightly colored pavilions that housed the apothecary, physicians, and tournament participants. Just outside of those were the blacksmiths, armorers, clothiers, and attiliators that made cross bows. During tournament, an entire city sprang up from previously empty fields. They made their way to the massive grandstand with its elaborate seating and balconies. It was built tall enough that the royals and nobles would have a bird's-eye view of the tournament field. They walked to the lower field, where there weren't as many people and paused, leaning against the wooden fence which encircled the field providing a barrier between combatants and spectators. The field was a picture of tranquility, belying the turbulent events that would take place the following day. Edward looked at Rushton and asked casually. "Have you chosen a maiden?"

The comment took Rushton off guard. He coughed and stumbled around trying to come up with answer. "Well... I'm... I'm keeping my options open."

Edward laughed. "Fair enough."

The truth was that Rushton had eyes for only one maiden—Cinderella, and he'd chosen her long before the tournament. Thanks to his mother, Cinderella was now a lady in waiting at the castle. That meant she would participate in the Parade of Maidens, and more importantly, he would be able to choose her. He would no doubt win the jousting section of the tournament for her and perhaps the sword. A warm glow settled in his chest as he considered what that meant for Cinderella. The victors of every tournament, along with their chosen maidens, led the first dance at the Victory Ball. It was one of the highest honors a maiden could receive, but more importantly, it would give Cinderella the confidence boost she needed to feel that she belonged here amongst the royals with him. Since her arrival, the other ladies in waiting had treated her mercilessly, letting her know in no uncertain terms that even though she was now a lady of status, living in a house adjoining the castle, they would always consider her a commoner. Rushton pushed aside his private thoughts and focused instead on the conversation at hand. He knew Edward well enough to know he had an agenda, otherwise he wouldn't have taken the time, on the eve of the tournament, to seek him out. With Edward, nothing was happenstance or coincidence. Everything about him was precisely controlled. Rushton gave him a speculative look. "And which fair maiden has been fortunate enough to catch your eye, mi' lord?"

Edward gave him a stilted smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It matters not which maiden I choose because my father has already chosen for me."

Ah, the picture suddenly became clear. Edward was opening up a topic they'd previously discussed too many times to count. Rushton blew out a breath. "Aye, it's a terrible plight indeed. I do empathize with you, Edward, I really do, but that which you ask... I cannot do. The risks are too great. Magic is forbidden. If we get caught..." He shook his head. "You must not ask this of me, I beg you. Nay!" He spoke the words low and urgently, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening.

Edward clenched a fist. "I beg you! Help me! I'll die before I marry Princess Helsin, that atrocity to her kind, that man bride." His mouth twisted into a sneer. "If you'll take me to the sorceress, so she can foretell my fortune, I'll be able to discern the path I should take." His voice was low and urgent. "No one has to know. I'll forever be in your debt." He gritted his teeth. "I have to know if there's someone—a love out there, for me. Please... help me, Rushton, as my closest friend... my brother."

Edward had only referred to him as a _brother_ once before, in the heat of battle when they were staring death in the face. Either he was laying it on thick, or he was truly desperate. As he looked at Edward's crestfallen expression, sympathy welled in his breast. He couldn't imagine being forced to marry the horrible princess that had visited the castle last autumn. No wonder Edward was panicking. Still, what Edward asked him to do was treason. The Sorceress Griselda was known and feared throughout the land. Few had ever seen her, and even fewer knew where she lived. Rushton knew because he'd gone there several times with his mother, but if anyone found that out, he'd be a dead man for sure and his mother would be burned at the stake for practicing magic. Rushton had never intended to tell a soul about Griselda, but once when they were ten years old, Edward, curious to see where his friend was going, had followed them partway. Later Edward questioned Rushton relentlessly until he admitted they went to see Griselda. Telling Edward about Griselda was a mistake—a mistake he was still paying for.

A bugle sounded, announcing The Parade of Maidens would begin soon, shortly after the ringing of the mid-day bell. Rushton's heart picked up a notch as he thought of Cinderella. She would offer her scarf, which he would wear as a tribute to her.

Edward caught his arm, a stricken look on his face. "Don't make me beg."

A man hurried towards them. When he reached them, he paused just long enough to give a hurried bow before rushing into conversation. "My prince, I've been searching all over for you. The Parade of Maidens is about to begin, and you must take your honored placed beside the king and queen." His disapproving eyes trailed over Edward. "And sire... you are not yet dressed in your royal robes."

Edward looked him over with an expression of part amusement and part disdain. "It would seem my mother sent the steward after me."

The man's face colored slightly. "Aye."

Edward lifted his chin, a stubborn glint in his eyes. He cast a sidelong glance at Rushton and muttered. "The mouse has been sent to fetch the cat."

Rushton chuckled despite himself.

"Inform my mother and father that I'll be riding with the squires and knights this go around." Edward flicked his hand as a form of dismissal.

The man's face paled. "But, your lordship, the queen, she gave me express orders to fetch you."

"Did she now?" His mouth twitched. "I'm not a dog to be fetched, Bentley. Give that message to my mother."

Rushton bit back a smile. He felt a little sorry for the feather of a man who looked like he might faint into the dust, but he understood where Edward was coming from.

The man kept standing there, wringing his hands. "That will be all, Bentley." He kept standing there, his eyes pleading with Edward's, his lower lip dangling. "You may go now, Bentley." Edward's eyes narrowed. "That's an order."

Bentley offered a curt bow before scampering off.

Rushton chuckled. "You nearly gave that poor man a heart attack."

A smile played on Edward's lips. "Nay, the heart attack will come when he has to face my mother and tell her that I'll be riding in the line of squires and knights, choosing my own maiden."

"Good for you," Rushton said, giving him an appraising look.

Edward's eyes met his. "About the sorceress."

Rushton groaned. "Let it go, Edward. I beg you, let it go!"

"I'll make you a wager."

Rushton lifted an eyebrow. He never could resist a good wager, and Edward knew it.

"If you win the joust, then I'll never ask again." His eyes cut into Rushton's. "But if I win, you will take me to the sorceress."

Rushton gave him a calculated look. "The joust? Not the sword?" Edward and Rushton were evenly matched with the sword, but the joust? Not once had Edward even come close to beating Rushton in the joust. No one had. To think he would beat him now was either madness or desperation.

"The joust," Edward said evenly.

He had to hand it to Edward. He was fair-minded to a fault, always choosing wisdom and practicality over passion and sentiment. In that regard, he was the perfect Crown Prince. Any other man would've made the wager contingent upon his strength rather than his weakness, but not Edward. Edward had to be fair above all, always doing the right thing, regardless of what it cost him personally. Edward thrust out his hand. "Deal?"

What could it hurt to make the deal? At the very least it would pacify Edward and give him time to assess the situation. There had to be some other way he could help him without putting them both in mortal danger. "Okay, deal," he said, clasping Edward's hand.

Edward looked toward the grandstand that was starting to fill with royals and nobles. "We'd better get suited up in our armor." He offered a fleeting smile. "It'd be a shame to keep the maidens waiting."

"Or your mother."

A look of surprise flickered over Edward's features, and then he laughed. "Certainly not my mother," he said, shaking his head.

"Ladies, step right this way. It's time for the parade." The clothier with a worm of a mustache nearly came out of his surcoat when Josselyn stumbled, narrowly missing a patch of manure trying to catch herself. "Nay, nay!" He lifted his hands in the air, an indignant expression on his soft face. "Did they not teach you anything in the castle? Methinks not! Grace! Take light and graceful steps. You are a delicate deer, picking your way through the forest." He glared at Josselyn. "Not a cow, tromping through the field."

Cinderella wanted to throttle the man when she saw the horrified look on Josselyn's face. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears. For days now, the clothier had been hovering over the ladies in waiting, teaching them the proper way to parade across the stage at the foot of the grandstand. He taught them how to give a proper curtsy, demonstrating how a lady should lower her eyes demurely and bat her eyelashes just so in order to make a lasting impression. How to cock your head a certain direction in order to look coy, or how to offer a mysterious smile, sure to send the knights clamoring. It was all so tedious and exhausting. As hard as the new lifestyle was on her, it was much harder on Josselyn. When Cinderella left for the palace, Seraphina insisted that Josselyn go with her. "You may go on the condition that Josselyn goes with you," Seraphina said, her expression rigid and final. Cinderella despaired. It had been hard enough for Rushton's mother to secure one slot, much less two. By some miracle, Rushton had managed to work it out, and here they were. But try as she might, Cinderella couldn't bequeath grace to Josselyn anymore than one could turn a duck into a swan. On Cinderella, the gowns looked elegant. On Josselyn they looked bulky and awkward. Josselyn's sturdy frame drew undo attention from the clothier, making her the target of his condescending remarks. Nothing she did was good enough to please him. In a strange turn of events, Cinderella felt the need to defend her. In Seraphina's house, Cinderella had been the poor relation, the outsider. But here in the splendor of the palace, Cinderella was the shining star and Josselyn the dowdy stepsister.

As Cinderella walked past the clothier, he eyed her critically and then broke into a large grin. "Exquisite," he beamed, adjusting the puff on her sleeves, "a shining jewel amongst grains of sand." He gave Josselyn a pointed look, as if to say _you are certainly no jewel_ , which she returned with a haughty look. She lifted her chin in the air and walked past the little man with such indifference that he might've been a peasant groveling at her feet. The clothier looked surprised, and then a flicker of admiration shone in his eyes.

Cinderella bit back a smile. At least Josselyn was learning to stand up to him. Cinderella lifted the hem of her gown as she walked up the steps leading to the stage. She intentionally kept her steps light as the clothier had instructed. _Breathe_ , she commanded herself. _Breathe._ Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her gown was so tight that it was making her light-headed. She prayed she wouldn't faint. Regardless of how she felt on the inside, she could at least take consolation in the fact that she looked the part of a true lady, thanks to the skills of her dutiful maid. (It had taken the maid the better part of the morning to get her ready.) Her hair was artfully woven with silver and blue ribbons and adorned with an ivory comb encrusted with sapphires. The gown she wore was deep blue and had an intricately woven bodice trimmed in silver. Even she had to admit that it was breathtaking. She would've loved it were it not for it fitting so tightly around her waist that it was hard to draw in a good breath. The one bright spot in the ordeal would be the look on Rushton's face when he saw her in it.

"Look at all of these people," Josselyn said, her voice tinged with awe. Cinderella nodded and looked up at the royals and nobility that were crowded into the grandstand. From a distance, their brightly colored clothes reminded her of a field of flowers. A bugle sounded, and all eyes turned upward to see the king and queen making their grand entrance to their places of honor. When they were seated, the king gave the nod for the tournament to begin.

A large herald in a green velvet surcoat, trimmed in gold, walked to the center of the stage and looked up. He seemed to gather strength from somewhere deep within his barrel chest, his booming voice carrying effortlessly through the crowd. "Noble King Aalexander de Moncier the Great and Queen Loreena Maria de Gussalen of our beloved Aandover Peaks... royal gents and ladies... greetings!" A roar of approval issued forth from the crowd, and the herald returned the gesture with a low bow at the waist. "On this hallowed day of our Lord, we are assembled hither in this place to honor our benevolent and wise king, who so diligently strives to protect our liberties as he interprets and upholds our revered Grimm Laws. Additionally, we acknowledge our valiant knights and squires, those to whom we owe a great debt of gratitude for their chivalry in defense of our beloved kingdom and our king." He punched a fist in the air. "Long live the king! Long live the king!"

The crowd joined in and started chanting simultaneously. "Long live the king!" This continued until the man held up his hands to quiet the crowd. "As the valiant squires and knights are taking their honored places on the tournament field, let me also say..." A bugle sounded as the knights and squires rode onto the field. The herald's words got drowned out in a chorus of thunderous applause. The colorful throng of knights and squires atop their horses proceeded across the field until all were positioned in a line directly facing the elevated platform. Each knight and squire held their lance so that the tip pointed upward to the sky. Colorful scarves were woven around the lances, flapping triumphantly in the wind.

At the herald's signal, three minstrels stepped forward and began to play a festive tune. The herald signaled to the courtier, who roused the ladies to take their positions. A murmur of awe rustled through the crowd as the ladies in waiting made their way across the platform.

....................................................................

A tremor of excitement tingled through Rushton's veins as he caught sight of Cinderella. Even from a distance, she was a vision in her flowing blue dress and corn silk hair. All of the other maidens paled in comparison to her. He glanced at Edward, sitting tall and stately on his horse. As the Crown Prince, Edward held the most honored position in the center of the line of squires and knights, and Rushton, earning the highest rankings in the practice tournament, held the place immediately to Edward's right. This tournament, there would be two parades of maidens—the first for the squires, and the latter for the knights. Edward would choose his maiden first and Rushton second. Provided Edward didn't select Cinderella, all would go according to plan. A shiver of foreboding slivered down his spine, and his suit of armor suddenly felt too heavy. Surely with all of those beautiful maidens, Edward wouldn't choose Cinderella... would he? He shrugged off the thought. Fate wouldn't be so cruel. On several occasions since Cinderella's arrival at the castle, it had been on the tip of Rushton's tongue to tell Edward about her. There were times when he felt his heart would burst if he couldn't tell someone about her, and Edward was his closest friend. But he'd promised his mother he wouldn't tell a soul that he'd known Cinderella before. "My position in the castle is precarious," she'd warned. "You must not tell anyone that I arranged for Cinderella to come here... especially not Edward."

Rushton was confused. "But why does it matter?"

"My enemies would use it against me, Rushton, and they would use it against Cinderella. You know how strict the selection process is for Ladies in Waiting. I had to call in favors to get her here. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

The bugle sounded. It was time. One by one, the maidens began their walk across the platform. Each would pause when reaching the center. Some maidens did a dainty twirl before offering a curtsy. Others simply paused with resolute chins lifted upward, allowing all to admire their poise and beauty. Rushton watched the third maiden go by, then it was Cinderella's turn. He clutched his lance a little tighter and held his breath. She'd only been a lady in waiting a few weeks; what if she stumbled or tripped? _You can do it_ , he urged. Her every step was tortuous at first, but it only took a moment for him to realize that his fears were futile. The maiden gliding like a dream across the platform was so graceful and perfect he could scarcely believe it was the same peasant girl that had climbed trees alongside him, had raced him through the fields, had milked the cows... had stolen his heart. She was mesmerizing—a vision. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He wondered if the other squires and knights were as taken with her as he. The thought sent a stab of jealousy shooting through him.

Other maidens continued parading across the platform, but Rushton hardly noticed them. He was too consumed with the cold fear overtaking him. Edward was going to choose Cinderella. He was sure of it. How could he not? Any man with eyes in his head would choose her. His heart started hammering furiously, and his hands felt clammy inside of his gloves. If only there was time to talk to Edward, to explain how he felt, then perhaps disaster could be averted.

The maidens lined up on the platform, each of them holding a colorful scarf. Edward maneuvered his horse to the far right side of the platform. He would start there and work his way left, stopping in front of the maiden he selected. He would hold out his lance to the chosen maiden, and she would then remove the scarf from his lance and replace it with her own. Cinderella was the fourth maiden from the left. Rushton watched as Edward rode past the first group of maidens without so much as a glance. He neared the center of the platform and paused. He seemed to be considering the chestnut-haired maiden with the scarlet dress. She was a beauty in her own right with cascading curls and thick fringes of lashes fluttering against her dark eyes. She gave him a nod and a coy smile. Relief flooded through Rushton, leaving him weak. How foolish he'd been thinking that Edward would choose Cinderella.

Without warning, Edward urged his horse on past the maiden. She looked surprised and then disappointed, but her recovery was quick as she fixed her smile back into place.

Rushton felt like he was watching the scene in slow motion as Edward continued on down the line. When he paused in front of Cinderella, the blood left Rushton's head, making him dizzy. Edward held out his lance to Cinderella. A hush came over the crowd as all awaited for her to respond. To refuse the Crown Prince would be unthinkable, and yet... Rushton couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw her hesitate and look his direction. Ever so slowly, she removed the purple scarf from Edward's lance and replaced it with her blue one. The crowd let out a deafening roar as Edward reared back his horse and raised his lance to the sky. The sound was drowned out by the sound of Rushton's own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Anger surged in his breast, and he had the urge to rush forward and tear the scarf from Edward's lance.

Then he realized it was his turn to choose a maiden. In the time it took for him to ride to the right side of the platform, Rushton knew what he must do. He would intentionally lose the bet he'd made with Edward and take him to see the Sorceress Griselda. The tricky part was ensuring that Griselda would steer Edward away from Cinderella and into the arms of another. He didn't give a goose's tail who Edward ended up with... as long as it wasn't Cinderella. As he rode slowly down the line of maidens, he made a point of feigning interest by pausing here and there. He finally stopped in front of Cinderella and paused just long enough for her to give him a questioning look. Then he urged his horse to take a step back so that he was positioned directly in front of Josselyn. He barely even looked at her when she removed the scarf from his lance and replaced it with a yellow one of her own. He had the ridiculous urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. There Cinderella was, standing a few paces away from him, and yet she was completely out of his reach. Promise or no promise to his mother, he was going to have to tell Edward the truth. Once Edward realized that Cinderella was already spoken for, he would back down. Above all, Edward was a man of principle, a man of honor. _Honor_. The word was salt in the wound. No honorable squire would voluntarily lose a joust. From the time he was a lad, it had been bred into him to fight. The Grimm Laws demanded that he fight with all of his might. It was a duty he'd taken a solemn oath to uphold. To do any less was cowardly... hypocritical. A squire was nothing without honor. He lifted the lance high in the air, the yellow scarf flapping wildly in the wind. Fleetingly, he decided against losing the joust. He would find another way, but then he glanced at Cinderella who was looking as distraught as he felt. It was then that he knew no sacrifice was too great for her. He would fight through fire for her, slay the dreaded dragon, scale Aandover Peaks, and yes, for her, he would do the unthinkable. He would purposely lose the joust.

## Chapter Fifteen

# The Bike Wreck

"Rush, can you hear me? Rush!"

He turned toward the voice. His mind registered two things simultaneously: the annoying blinking lights and that his head felt heavy.

"He's coming to."

He looked at the face hovering over him. "Mom!"

Wisteria burst into tears and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Rush! I was so worried. I thought..." She shook her head. "I thought I'd lost you," she finished quietly.

"Lost me?" He looked around at the police officers and paramedics. Then he realized that he was lying on the ground. No, he was on a stretcher. Panic raced through his veins as his mind tried to grasp what was happening.

A man stepped up behind his mom. "Ma'am, I need to check his vitals."

Wisteria nodded. "Of course."

Rush caught her arm. "No, don't leave me."

She put a hand over his and gave him a weak smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

The man shined a light in his eyes and then held up his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two."

The man lowered a finger. "Now?"

"One," Rush answered impatiently. "Hey, what happened to me?"

"You don't remember?"

"I was riding my bike... fast." He regretted adding in that last part the minute it left his mouth. _Great_ , now they would cite him for speeding and probably reckless driving. His heart skipped a beat, and his mouth suddenly felt dry. Had he injured someone? His mind raced as he tried to remember. All the while, he kept thinking about the events that had happened fourteen months ago. Time seemed to mesh together, and the events of that tragic night replayed in his mind like a painful movie that he was forced to watch over and over.

It was the biggest football game of the season, and they'd won. A few of the guys had gone out to celebrate. Everyone had a few too many drinks, especially Brian. It was Brian's car, but he was too drunk to drive, so he'd tossed Rush the keys.

They'd been singing and goofing off. Rush rounded a curve too fast, and the pavement was slick from a recent rain. The car spun out of control and into a tree. Brian was killed instantly, and Matt was put into intensive care. To make matters worse, marijuana was found in the glove box. The only thing that saved Rush from Juvie was the fact that his alcohol level was one point below the legal limit. Thankfully, Matt made a full recovery, but Brian was gone, and it was all Rush's fault. He'd spiraled into a depression so deep that there seemed to be no way out. In a fit of desperation, Wisteria up and moved them to Castle Heights.

She always told the same story—that they'd moved here to get to know his late father's extended family, but they'd not made contact with a single one of them these past few months. The truth was that Wisteria had moved them here to save him. But there was no escaping his past. It was happening all over again.

Paramedics were on either side of the stretcher. In unison, they lifted him up and started carrying him to an ambulance. He looked wildly around. "Wait!" He took stock of his body. He could feel his legs. He wiggled his toes, moved his arms, turned his head from side to side. "Wait!" He tried to sit up. "Stop!" They kept walking and placed him in the back of the ambulance. He struggled to get up. "I'm not hurt!" He looked around frantically and caught sight of his mom who was standing beside the open door. "Mom!" he called. "I'm not hurt. I don't need to be in here!"

"It's okay," she soothed. "You hit your head. They're going to take you to the hospital and do a CT scan to make sure you don't have any fractures."

"Are you coming with me?"

"I'm going to ride behind the ambulance to the hospital."

Knowing that she would be close by was comforting. A thought struck him. "My bike."

A paramedic lifted his arm. "This might sting a bit."

"Aw!" Rush howled as the man shoved a needle into the top of his hand.

"An IV," the man explained.

"This is ridiculous!" Rush protested. "Where is my bike?"

"Relax, your bike is fine. The cops fished it out of the river." The man's calm voice helped take the edge off of the situation.

Rush gathered the courage to ask the thing he'd been dreading. He swallowed hard, trying to voice the words. "W-was anyone else hurt?"

"Just you. Now hold still, so I can get a read on your blood pressure."

The relief that pulsed through him was palpable. He lay back and closed his eyes, attempting to recall the events leading up to the accident. He'd been angry about Cinderella and Edward. Something about a horse and a blue scarf... and jousting. The stands were brimming with people, wearing bright colors. He shook his head. _Jousting? Really?_ He chuckled inwardly. Maybe he did have a concussion. He was angry with Elle, not Cinderella. So, now he was referring to her as _Cinderella_ , like the storybook character? Wow. He was losing it! He was on a horse, in a suit of armor, and she was in a long flowing dress, a braid wound around the crown of her head, blonde tresses trailing free below the braid. And he loved her with a fierceness that nearly took his breath away.

He pushed away the crazy thoughts and focused on the paramedics. He looked at the blood pressure monitor and the fluid flowing through the IV into his veins. He willed his mind to fight against the insanity and focused on the present. As he did so, the events of the evening came rushing back in vivid detail. He'd been angry with Elle because she was sitting in the car with Edward. And the worst part was that she'd been about to kiss him. He clenched his fists. He'd gotten on his bike and gone for a ride. Once he got out on the open highway, he'd opened up the throttle, and then the lights came at him, lights from an oncoming Jeep. He'd swerved to avoid a collision and dived off his bike to keep from going into the river.

"Whoa, man, calm down. Your blood pressure is skyrocketing."

"Someone intentionally ran me off the road."

"What?" The paramedic frowned. "Are you sure?" He shot his partner a concerned look. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"All I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to take a day off from school, so you can get some rest." Wisteria plunked a piece of bread into the toaster and pushed down the lever. She then reached into the cabinet for a glass and poured some orange juice into it.

Rush blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, I'm fine. The tests came back clean. No concussion." It wasn't so much that he was dying to get back to school, but the tryouts for the formal were only a few days away, and he needed to practice. And if the truth were told, he was eager to see Elle—even though he was still ticked at her.

"I know you're fine... thankfully." She brushed a stray curl from her forehead and turned her full attention to him, her expression thoughtful. "That report you gave the cop... was it the truth?"

He fought the urge to swear. The woman could be so exasperating! As if he would lie about something so serious. "Yes, for the umpteenth time, someone intentionally ran me off the road! I swear!"

She gave him a searching look. "I know things are still raw from the other accident. It's okay to admit that you were going too fast and lost control."

He resisted the urge to punch the counter. "Mom, I'm telling you the truth!" His eyes met hers, pleading for her to believe him. If his own mother didn't believe him, how could he expect anyone else to? He could see the battle taking place within her. She wanted to believe him, he could tell.

Her eyes softened and then went moist. "Okay, I believe you."

"Really?" He desperately wanted to erase the events that had led them to Tower Heights. If only he could erase the hurt he'd caused.

"Yes." She tightened her jaw resolutely.

His heart lifted a notch.

Wisteria took a drink of her juice. "I just don't understand why anyone would intentionally run you off the road."

He shrugged. "Maybe I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could've been drunk or stoned."

She lifted an eyebrow. "He?"

"Or she. I don't know."

"Well, hopefully the cops will get to the bottom of it."

"Yes," he said unconvinced. It was a dark, lonely stretch of highway with no witnesses, and he couldn't remember the color of the Jeep. The chances of the cops finding the perpetrator were slim to none. And his mother would go on full alert, watching his every move. He glanced at the clock on the microwave and stuffed his books into his backpack. "Well, I'm off."

"Not so fast."

He turned. "What?"

"Don't you _what_ me. You're riding with me today. We're giving the bike a rest for a few days."

"But it's fine. It wasn't damaged, and I cleaned it up." Despite his mother's protests, he'd spent a good two hours last night checking his bike and detailing it. The truth was that the bike was damaged, but only slightly. His tail pipe was dented, and there was a small rip in the leather seat.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this."

He ripped open the Pop Tart package and shoved a bite into his mouth "I'm practicing with the band this afternoon, and I won't have a ride if I don't take the bike."

"I'll take you."

He took another couple of bites of the Pop Tart and was done with it. "But you have meetings after school." He watched her face color slightly. His mom had been staying late after school on a regular basis. Her excuse was always that she had meetings, but Rush suspected that she had a thing for Principal Kingsley. That he was the principal of the school and his mother's boss levied two strikes against him. Add to that the fact that he was Edward's father—strike three!

"You're more important than some silly meeting. I'll take you." She flashed a smile. "Besides, I'm dying to hear the band."

He groaned. "Great, just what I need. My mother coming to watch me practice." He held up a finger. "No criticism."

She let out a devilish chuckle. "I wouldn't dream of it... as long as your performance is up to par."

"Uh, huh, exactly what I was afraid of." He rolled his eyes. There were many talented musicians and singers in the world, but for his mother, it was a way of life. She lived and breathed it. For as long as he could remember, she'd shoved piano lessons down his throat. Her greatest hope for him was that he would become a classical pianist. Much to her chagrin, he'd sworn off the piano in favor of the guitar. Music ran through his veins too, but he preferred to play and sing his songs... his own way.

She cocked her head. "Will Elle be there?"

"Yes," he said, sensing a trap. "You know she's in the band. What are you gonna do?"

"Nothing," she said reaching for the toast and spreading butter over it. She took a bite.

"Mom, I've got enough problems without you adding to them."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of adding to your problems." She began humming under her breath as she gathered her books. She slung her purse over her shoulder, juggling the books in one arm while holding the piece of buttered toast with her other hand. She hurriedly finished off the toast.

"Mom, please don't say anything to Elle."

She went to the door and pulled her keys out of her purse. "Come on, I don't want to be late."

He shook his head and followed behind her. There was no use arguing with her. She always did exactly what she wanted to, regardless of what anyone else said or did. He'd have to find a way to warn Elle. Once his mother went on the warpath there was no stopping her, and as of right now, Elle was her primary target.

"You have failed me! I send you to do one simple task, and you fail!"

Huntsden kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to look his accuser in the eye. He'd learned through sad experience that when his dad went on a rampage, it was better to keep his mouth shut. The last time he'd tried to defend himself against the vicious attacks he ended up with a broken arm and a cracked rib. The hair on his neck stood on end when his father got up in his face.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you!"

Even though his dad was three inches shorter than him, he was a formidable force with his blocky, muscular build and black eyes. Huntsden's instincts were to back away, but he knew better, so he stood motionless, keeping his eyes fixed on the clock hanging on the wall. His stomach churned as he got a whiff of the stench of onions on his dad's breath, leftover from dinner. He swallowed hard, knowing that he was left with no other choice but to answer. "I ran him off the road just as you told me to do."

Ruben swore and knocked over a kitchen chair, causing Huntsden to flinch. "I told you to eliminate him!"

"I tried to do as you asked," he said, fighting hard to keep the tremor out of his voice. The truth was that he'd intended to "eliminate" Rush as his dad had demanded, but at the last minute he'd lost his nerve. He'd raced toward the bike at full speed, but at that last, critical second he'd swerved to miss him. Last summer, during football camp, he'd put the marijuana in Rush's bag just as his dad had instructed. The tactic had gotten Rush thrown off the football team, and it had tarnished Rush's reputation. Ruining a guy's reputation was one thing, but killing him? That was something else entirely. In the other realm, he'd abhorred violence in the beginning, but as time wore on, he'd allowed the darkness to permeate him, becoming more of a savage like his dad. Once the darkness took hold, he couldn't keep it from overtaking him entirely. Now that he was in this new world, he wanted to keep the dark side of him in check. He wanted to be more like the young lad that initially abhorred brutality—more like his mother and less like his dad. It was his dad, and not he, that was the famed hunter. It was his dad that, time and time again, had looked death square in the eye and cowed it.

A distant memory flittered before his consciousness. It was his first hunt with his father—that sacred event that marked his emergence into manhood. All went well until they came upon an unfortunate goat caught in the trap that was set to catch the massive bear they'd been tracking. When Huntsden saw the goat's leg mangled by the teeth of the trap and how the blood mixed with splintered bone and torn flesh, his stomach churned. His father handed him an arrow. "Finish it, my son," he commanded. With a quivering hand, Huntsden cocked the arrow, but all he could see were the goat's pleading eyes looking into his, imploring him to be merciful. "Now!" his father commanded. But try as he might, Huntsden couldn't release the arrow. His young body started to shake, and a sob erupted from his throat. In the end, his father levied the deathblow which silenced the bleating of the goat. He'd then turned to Huntsden and gave him a bitter look—a look that still haunted Huntsden's dreams.

"You're a coward," Ruben seethed, his eyes filling with rage. "A coward that must be dealt with. I have gone to great lengths to get us to this world. The kingdom is within your grasp, and you throw it away. It slips through your wretched fingers like sand. Because you have failed to do as I asked, we have lost the element of surprise. Do not think it will be so easy to eliminate him the next go around. He now knows that someone is out to get him." He balled his fists. "This must be answered."

"Yes," Huntsden answered quietly. His dad's wrath knew no bounds, and it would be answered. The first blow hit him square in the gut, knocking him breathless. Huntsden doubled over, but his dad was just getting started. He pounded him again in the side and in the back. He tried to be strong, but the words issued forth, and he couldn't call them back. "I'm sorry," he cried. "Dad, I'm sorry." Hot pain shot through his body, and he groaned in agony. He tried to back away, but he was no match for his dad, who was screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. Huntsden couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his face. He fell to the ground in a crumbled heap.

Ruben gave him one last kick in the ribs. "The next time I give you an order, you'd better follow it, you worthless piece of garbage. I won't be as merciful the next time," he muttered, walking away.

## Chapter Sixteen

# Giving Up

When they pulled into the parking lot of The Chocolate Fountain, Wisteria gave the place an appraising glance, then raised an eyebrow. "You're practicing here?"

"Yep, Elle's aunt Adele owns the place, and she's letting us use the attic."

"I see. Won't the noise disrupt the business?"

Rush shrugged. "Not according to Adele. She assured us that she would take care of any problems."

Wisteria wrinkled her nose. "That's a bit odd, don't you think? It seems like she would be worried about her customers."

Rush blew out a breath. Even though he'd practically said the same thing to Adele, he didn't like hearing his mother say it. "Why do you always look for the negative in everything?"

"I'm not looking for the negative, I'm just stating a fact. You and I both know that the noise from your band is going to carry through that old house like a megaphone. Mark my word, the customers are going to be annoyed. If this woman _Adele_ has __ an ounce of sense in her brain, she'll realize that, and you'll be looking for another place to practice." She gave him a sympathetic look. "I just don't want you getting your hopes up, that's all."

"It will be fine," he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. Rush grabbed the door handle. "You know Mom, you really don't have to come with me. I'll be perfectly safe. It's not like the boogie man's gonna jump me while I'm inside."

She gave him a look that could kill. "Enough, wise guy, I'm coming."

"Fine! Suit yourself! But no criticism," he warned, throwing open the car door. He began grabbing his guitar, music stand, and all of his other gear.

"Here, let me help." Wisteria took the music stand from him.

"I'll have to make a few trips to get it all. Let's take this inside, and I'll come back for the rest."

"Quaint place," Wisteria said when they stepped inside the front door.

Rush spotted Adele in the far corner of the room, standing beside a table, laughing and talking to a young boy and girl, who were eating brownies. He paused, unsure as to whether he should take the equipment on upstairs or stop and say hello to Adele. Luckily, she saw them and came over.

She gave Rush a warm smile. "Good to see you again."

"Thank you. Um, this is my mother Wisteria."

Adele held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you... Wisteria."

Wisteria clasped the older woman's hand. "Hello, it's nice to meet you."

Adele peered over her glasses and looked Wisteria up and down. "Still as beautiful as ever, I see."

Wisteria gave her a quizzical look. "I'm sorry, have me met?"

Adele flashed an enigmatic smile. "It depends on what your definition is of _met_."

"So we know each other?" Wisteria prompted.

The guitar was starting to feel heavy in Rush's hands. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go up and put these things down."

Adele waved an arm in the air. "Yes, dear, you go right on up. Everyone else is already here. Your mother and I will stay down here and get better acquainted."

"Oh, I was going to go up and watch them practice," Wisteria protested.

"There will be plenty of time for that," Adela said, placing her arm around Wisteria.

"But—"

Adele gave her a searching look. "You seem different... kinder maybe, in this world, dear."

Wisteria shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean."

"I see... it hasn't come back to you then. I had thought that when the chain of events started that you would start to... well, naturally." She adjusted her dress. "I just assumed because you were so powerful that you would..."

Wisteria leveled a glare. She didn't know what this woman was getting at, but she didn't like the feeling that she was being played. "That I would what?"

"Ah, the bite is still there. More subdued, but still there." Adele looked at the ceiling and then shook her head. "Merek, I'm impressed. Hadn't counted on her not remembering anything. Nope, hadn't counted on that at all."

Wisteria looked up, but all she saw was an antique ceiling fan. Rush neglected to tell her that Elle's aunt was crazy. No wonder she wasn't worried about the noise. She was starting to have some serious doubts about letting Rush and the other band members practice here.

Adele gave her a reproachful look. "Your lenses have become clouded, dear. You have only to remove the grime to learn that the craziness we see in others is merely a reflection of our own misunderstanding. I figured you of all people would remember that."

Clouded lenses? What was she talking about? "I'm sorry, but I must be missing something. You seem to know me, but I don't know you."

Adele chuckled. "All in good time, dear, all in good time."

Wisteria stopped. "Wait a minute, there is something familiar about you." She put a finger to her lips. "It's right there, but I can't grasp it." She shook her head. "I lost it. Maybe you look like someone I know."

"Yes," Adele agreed, a trace of amusement on her face. "That must be it. Come, there's much I want to show you."

"Again." Rae said. "We must do it again."

Elle let out a groan. When it came to band practice, Rae was a tyrant. They'd gone over the same song five times already, and now Rae was insisting they go over it again. She was about to complain, but luckily, Jack beat her to it.

"Hey Red, lay off, would ya?"

Rae made a face. "Don't call me _Red_. And yes, we're gonna practice it until we get it right! Try-outs are a week away, and we're not ready!" She pointed at Jack. "You're half a beat behind on the chorus, and Elle stumbles every time we change chords. Elle, we're counting on you to set the root for each chord. You have to play it like you mean it!"

"Yeah, Elle, play it like you mean it," Jack said. "We're counting on you. Try-outs are a week away," he mimicked.

Elle let out a snigger but snuffed it out when she saw the dark look on Rae's face. "Sorry," she mumbled, glancing over at Rush to get his reaction. He rolled his eyes and looked away. A wave of frustration covered her, and she wanted to rip that smug look off of his handsome face. He was ignoring her. He'd made that very obvious in English class. In fact, he was taking great delight in ignoring her, and why it irked her so, she didn't know. She should be glad he was ignoring her—one less problem to deal with. Yes, she was glad, she decided. She and Edward were patching things up, and she certainly didn't need Rush lurking around on the roof and complicating matters. Last night, she'd felt so guilty that Rush saw her with Edward. What did she have to feel guilty about? It wasn't like she and Rush had ever been a couple. She shook off the thoughts and tried to focus on the bass guitar. Thankfully, it was coming back to her... a little. As much as she hated to admit it, Rae was right. She was floundering, but she was doing the best she could. She blew out a breath as they started the song again.

They were halfway through it when the door opened and Adele walked in with Ms. Porter. Elle about dropped her guitar when she saw Rush's mom. It was bad enough that the woman was her English teacher, but to have her come to practice too? It was too much. Adele and Wisteria walked over to the sofa by the window and sat down. Elle avoided making eye contact with Ms. Porter, although she could feel the woman's accusing eyes boring into her. She tried her best to change chords smoothly, but despite her best effort, she botched it.

When the song was over, Adele began clapping. "Bravo!" She looked sideways at Wisteria. "Don't you agree?"

All eyes went to Wisteria as they waited for her response. She looked at Rae. "Your voice certainly helps to elevate the song... and the other members of the band."

Jack let out a cackle, and Rush looked like he wanted to crawl under the rug. Elle's face flamed, and she wished to be anywhere but here, performing for this wretched woman.

"Having said that," Wisteria continued, "you did go a little pitchy on those high notes near the end." Rae's eyes went wide, and then her shoulders fell, but Wisteria wasn't finished. "Rush you were a little overpowering during the chorus. Turn the amp down a notch." She gave Elle a scathing look. "And you..." She drew her fingers through her hair. "Well, you just need to practice," she sniffed. "You're bumbling all over yourself on those simple chord changes. Heaven forbid if you have to play something complicated."

Suddenly, it became too much. "What I need is to remember how to play this stupid thing," Elle slung back. She could feel the tears pressing behind her eyes.

"Give her a break, Mom," Rush said, a warning edge to his voice. "She's doing the best she can."

Wisteria met his glare full on. "Well, it appears that her best isn't going to cut it. Not if you hope to make it though the cut in tryouts."

Adele put her hands to her mouth. "Oh, dear, this isn't going well. Oh, dear."

Elle couldn't hold back the tears. A hot fury coursed through her veins. She jerked the strap off her shoulder and plunked down the guitar on a nearby table. "I'm through!" she said, then fled the room.

Rae and Jack just stood there, speechless. Rush threw a hand in the air. "Are you happy now, Mom? See what you've done?"

Wisteria straightened in her chair. "What I've done?" She lifted an eyebrow. "I didn't see Rae, or you, or Jack running out of the room when I gave you guys constructive criticism. I say one thing, and she falls apart. It's obvious that the girl's a ninny."

"You caused this, Mother, and you know it!" Rush said, squaring his jaw. He removed the strap from his shoulder and put down his guitar.

"Where are you going?"

"To fix this."

"Let her go, Son. She's no good for you. Can't you see that?"

"We're not doing this here, Mother," he said through gritted teeth as he started walking towards the door.

"She's in the study," Adele called after him.

He stopped. "What?"

"Elle's in the study. When you get to the bottom of this top flight of stairs, turn left, and it's the second door on the right."

An awkward silence filled the room as everyone stood looking at each other. "I should be going," Wisteria said.

Adele clasped her arm. "Oh, no. You don't get to create a storm and then leave me to deal with the damage."

Wisteria spun around, her face cherry red. "Excuse me? Don't you dare presume that you know me or my son."

Jack cupped his hand around his mouth. "Cat fight," he called out.

Rae shot him a dirty look. "Shut up!" she whispered.

"You will stay here, and you will help these kids," Adele said.

"I have no intention of staying here a minute longer."

Adele smiled and looked into Wisteria's eyes. "You will stay here and help them."

She drew back. "I won't!"

Adele lowered her glasses and looked deeper into her eyes. "Yes, dear, I believe you will."

Wisteria started blinking rapidly. "No, I won't!"

"Oh, dear, you're a strong one." Adele retrieved a small vial from the pocket of her dress.

"If you'll excuse me," Wisteria said, crisply, moving to stand.

"Wait, dear. There's one more thing." Adele squirted the vial, sending a mist spraying over Wisteria's face. "You will help this band," she commanded.

Wisteria put a hand on her hip. "No! I certainly will not, you silly old fool. I don't know who you think you are, but if you think for one minute you can order me—" Adele raised the vial and squirted it directly into Wisteria's face. "How dare you!" Then she coughed and sputtered. "Yuck! What is that..." She clutched her throat and made a gagging sound. Then she shook her head and looked around as if in a daze. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You were saying how you were going to help the band, dear," Adele said.

"I did?" Wisteria cocked her head. "Really?"

"Yes, that's what you said."

Wisteria shrugged. "So I did."

"Very good." Adele let out a weary sigh before putting the vial back into her pocket. "I'm getting too old for this nonsense," she muttered. She looked at the ceiling. "Did you see how much tonic I had to use? She's a strong one. Heaven help us when she remembers."

Jack looked at Rae. "That was weird."

"Totally," Rae agreed.

"Oh, it's just an herbal calmer that I like to keep on hand," Adele said breezily. She motioned. "Rae could use some help with her voice."

"Of course," Wisteria said, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Oh, no," Rae countered, "I'm fine."

Adele peered over her glasses and looked straight at Rae. "Do you want to make it past tryouts next week?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Wisteria can teach you things that will make you better. She's the best I've ever heard... and trust me, I've heard a lot."

"Why, thank you," Wisteria said.

Adele and Rae stood eyeing each other. "Okay," Rae grumbled.

"And Jack, you need to listen to Wisteria also. Your timing is off... with several things." She gave him a pointed look and motioned at Rae with her eyes.

Jack rocked back. "Hey, I thought we were talking about making music."

Adele's eyes twinkled. "Exactly." She clasped her hands together. "Do you know what you all need? You need some hot chocolate and truffles. I'll get those while you practice."

"But what about Elle and Rush?" Rae said.

Adele chuckled. "They're fine. You just worry about singing."

"Knock knock."

Elle looked up to see Rush leaning against the doorframe of the study. She hastily brushed away the tears using the palms of her hands. "Go away!"

He paused a moment like he would comply but then walked over to the wingback chair where she was sitting and staring at the empty fireplace. He sat down in the chair next to her.

"Did you come to finish the job?"

His eyes narrowed. "What're you talking about?"

"Your mother did a pretty good job of cutting me down to size, I figure you've come to finish the job."

He chuckled. "Don't tempt me."

Her eyes felt big and puffy. She hated that he was seeing her like this. "Why don't you just leave me alone?" She pulled her knees up in the chair and clasped her arms around them. He was such a jerk, sitting there, acting as if he cared. She was sick and tired of everyone judging her—of everyone trying to make her into something she wasn't. So what if she'd almost kissed Edward! So what! So what if she couldn't play the bass guitar.

He stood, and she thought he would leave, but instead, he looked around. "Wow. This place is amazing. Your aunt must be an antique collector or something. Look at all of these books." He walked over to the bookshelf. "They look old." He ran a finger over the wooden shelf. "And dusty." He pulled out a book and read the title. " _From Straw to Gold the Rumpelstiltskin Way_." He laughed. "Okay." He replaced the book and pulled out another title. "This one's in another language." He wrinkled his nose. "It looks like Latin." He made a face and put the book back on the shelf. He walked over to the intricate wooden model depicting an elaborate gingerbread house, complete with a young boy and girl. He leaned over, studying it. "The detail is incredible."

"Hansel and Gretel," Elle said dryly.

He gave her a dubious look. "Like the fairytale Hansel and Gretel?"

"My aunt loves fairy tales," she explained.

He looked at the picture hanging on the wall. Elle sat there, watching him studying that stupid picture like it held some great secret. "This is amazing."

Irritation pricked at her, and suddenly she didn't want him here, in her aunt's space. "You can leave now! You've done enough!" He just kept standing there, looking at the picture. "You don't have to worry about me messing up your precious band because I'm through." Her throat felt dry and scratchy. "I said I'm through," she repeated. She blew out a breath. "Are you deaf?"

He turned, and there was a funny look on his face.

"Elle, have you seen this picture?" His voice had an unnatural edge to it.

"Yeah, I've seen it. It's of a mother and a daughter. What of it? Haven't you ever seen a picture of a mother and daughter before?"

He motioned. "Come 'ere and look."

She gritted her teeth. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to look at some silly picture, but he was acting so... strange. "Okay," she huffed. "Fine." She walked up and stood beside him, shoving her hands into her pockets. "What?"

"Look."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm looking." And then she looked. Her heart started hammering in her chest, and she felt dizzy.

"Do you see?" he asked, excitement brimming in his voice.

"Yes," she croaked. "I see." It was her... or someone that looked exactly like her. The mother and daughter were wearing blue gowns. They were resting on a red velvet settee with ornately carved wooden trim. Heavy drapes lined with gold fringe adorned the nearby window. The mother's hair was braided around her head, and she wore a delicate gold necklace with a locket on the end that rested between her breasts. The daughter had a blue ribbon in her hair, and she was leaning so that she was resting in her mother's lap. The mother was caressing the daughter's hair. It was an intimate scene, and they looked happy. The mother looked... well, she looked just as Elle imagined that her mother might look—had her mother been here. A burning anger welled in her breast. She felt angry that she'd never known her mother as did the girl in the picture. Most of all, she felt angry with herself, because she couldn't remember anything. These people had to be related to her. The familial resemblance was so strong that she felt as if she were looking at herself.

"It's you," Rush whispered, his eyes wide.

"That's impossible," she countered stiffly. "Look at the furniture and the décor. These people lived in a different time."

"Yeah, but the face. I know her." His voice was tinged with awe, and he leaned in to get a closer look. He pointed at the girl. "Look at the graceful curve of her neck and how her jaw is set just so. The same slender nose and how it turns up ever so slightly on the end. Those expressive eyes." He turned to her. "It's you. I know it is. I know you, Elle."

The words were spoken with such certainty that they circled around her like a protective embrace, and for one small moment, she felt whole. "Rush, I... " The words died on her tongue as she looked up at him. Why did he have to be so wretchedly handsome with those chiseled features and black, wavy hair? There was an intensity about him that stirred every inch of her body. Her eyes went to his firm lips, and she thought about how they would feel pressed against hers. Her lips parted involuntarily.

"Eyes the color of the sky. And that hair," he murmured. "The stuff of my dreams."

Her breath caught, and she became aware of his warm breath on her face. He took a step closer and looked into her eyes. "Don't you feel it?" His voice was husky and low. "This spark between us." He gave her a knowing look, and she thought how his eyes resembled pools of deep blue. "This fire." He caressed her jaw, sending a tingle rushing down her spine. Just when she thought she would go crazy with desire, he took her in his arms. She looked up at him, expecting him to kiss her, but he just stood there, looking down at her. There was a tortured expression on his face. "If only you knew how much I want you," he said fiercely.

She wanted him too. She wanted him to kiss her over and over until she went mad. She wanted him to kiss her until her need for him subsided. "What're you waiting for?" she said, surprised at her own boldness.

His eyes went wide, and he let out a soft chuckle. "I could do that," he said, "but... " His expression was a mixture of longing and something else, and he seemed to be waging an inner battle. Then she could tell from the tightening of his jaw that he'd reached a decision. "I can't," he uttered. "No more sneaking around. I won't be a stand-in for Edward. I'm done being used."

The comment stung. "I'm not trying to use you," she countered, her face going hot.

He gave her a calculating look.

"I'm not," she said defensively.

"Okay." A ghost of a smile flittered on his lips, and he began tracing his finger along her collarbone, sending a million tingles shooting over her. "Then answer me this—do you love me?"

The comment took her off guard. She tensed. "What?"

"It's a simple question. Do you love me?" he asked again. His voice was light but his expression serious.

There it was, the thing they couldn't get past. He wanted every part of her. He wanted her heart, body, and soul, and she couldn't give herself to him. No matter what she said or did, it was never enough for him. She let out a breath. "I don't know," she admitted.

He searched her face, and she could see the disappointment settling into his eyes. He let go of her and stepped back.

She felt the absence of him immediately. A part of her wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear. A large part of her wanted to throw her arms around him and demand that he kiss her, but where would that leave them? She couldn't tell him that she loved him, and she couldn't promise not to see Edward. As strong as her attraction was to Rush, she also felt something for Edward. And besides, she had to find out who she was before she made that kind of commitment to someone else.

He started walking toward the door.

"Rush," she called after him. He turned. "I'm sorry." A tear rolled down her cheek.

He gave her a sad smile. "Yeah, me too."

"Giving up so easily?"

"I'm sorry, but what?" Rush stopped mid-stride and looked down at Adele who was standing behind the bakery case. She'd caught him trying to escape. He was heading down the stairs with the intention of waiting for his mom in the car. He couldn't handle making small talk with Jack and Rae, and mostly, he needed to be alone.

She offered him a fleeting smile. "Elle, are you giving up on her so quickly? I never pegged you as a quitter." Adele reached for a bakery box and began filling it with items.

The hair bristled on his neck. "Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?"

She laughed. "From all the way down here? Not hardly, dear."

Who did this woman think she was, making assumptions about him? "You don't know anything about me," he said curtly.

"I know you better than you think."

_What did that even mean?_ Elle was right, her aunt was a touch loony.

" _Loony_ is a relative term," Adele said.

Had she read his mind? No, that was ridiculous. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Elle, is a big girl, I suppose she'll make her own decision." He shook his head, as if it mattered what this woman thought. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going out to wait in the car." He continued on down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, she motioned.

"Come."

He briefly thought about ignoring the request, but she had, after all, agreed to let them practice in her shop. The least he could do was comply with her request. He walked over and stood in front of the bakery case and waited to hear what she had to say.

"Elle has been through a lot. What good are we without the sum of our memories—the sum of our experiences? What if all that you'd ever known was suddenly ripped away, and you had nothing?"

He thought about this for a minute. "I see your point," he admitted, "but you have to understand that my problems with Elle started long before her accident."

"You've got that right," Adele mumbled.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" He leaned in closer in an attempt to hear her.

"Oh, nothing, I have a bad habit of talking to myself. Anyway, as I was saying... " She looked him in the eye. "The reward goes to he who is the most diligent."

"Okay," he said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but then again, she probably didn't either.

She laughed. "You'll have to forgive me, Rushton, I'm not used to all of this straight talk that you young people go in for these days." She scratched her head and looked thoughtful. "Okay, if I must spell it out for you, I must. Elle is not the same person that she was before the accident. Any man with eyes in his head can see that. If you turn away from her and let your pride get the best of you, then you're letting Edward win. Not that Edward is a bad person, mind you. I just want you to understand the ramifications that your choices will have. You're practically throwing her into his arms. Is that what you want?"

He wanted to punch something, but he clenched his fists instead. "I've tried everything I know how to do!" His voice was rising, but he didn't care. He didn't need this woman to lecture him about Elle. "Elle has had plenty of chances to choose me."

"So you're saying that Edward is the better man? Is that what you're saying?"

He let out a sarcastic laugh. "Sure, all right. That's what I'm saying. Edward is the better man. Edward is the golden boy. He gets everything, including the girl. Kudos to Edward." He swore under his breath and slapped the palm of his hand down hard on the top of the bakery case. "I'm done with this."

"Wait." She held out the box. "These are for you."

He stood there looking at it.

"Go ahead," she urged, "take it."

He made a face. "Chocolate?"

"Yes, chocolate. You make it sound like it's poison. Most folks would give their eyetooth to get a free box of my chocolates. Here," she urged, "take them before I change my mind."

He reached for the box. "Okay, I'll take them." He forced a smile. "Thanks."

She smiled back. "You're very welcome. They'll help you."

"Help me?"

"To remember." She winked. "To remember the man you once were. To remember the man you still are. Somewhere deep inside of you there's a man that would move heaven and earth for the woman he loves. A man that would risk a kingdom, for a single kiss. A man that's worthy of that wonderful girl upstairs."

"Okay." This conversation was getting nuttier by the minute. "Goodbye, Adele. Thanks for the... chat." Sarcasm dripped from his words, and he wondered if Adele had sense enough to even notice.

"Anytime, my boy. Anytime."

He turned and walked out of the shop before she could say anything else. He was to the car before he realized something. She'd not called him Rush. She'd called him Rushton. That's the same name that Elle called him a few weeks ago. Weird. He repeated the name a few times to see if it rang a bell. It didn't. Maybe Elle was as crazy as her aunt. Now that was something he could believe.

## Chapter Seventeen

# Griselda

One tear of a swan, the venom of a serpent, and the saliva of a black toad. Griselda rubbed her gnarly hands together, leaned forward and muttered the ancient incantation long forgotten by most mortals. The stale air stirred around her, and she could feel the energy building. Her heart leapt in anticipation when the graphite stone started glowing—faintly at first until it turned an iridescent blue. Then the stone took on a translucent quality like smooth, polished silver. It was like looking into a pool of clear water. She stared back at her own hideous reflection—the sagging flesh, sunken eyes, rotten teeth, stooped shoulders—and even she couldn't stop the shudder that slithered down her spine. She was a monstrous hag—one of the most loathsome creatures that ever walked the earth. Penniless and forced to subsist on whatever meager income she could scrape together. A slow burn started within her breast and continued until it permeated every cell of her body. It was a fury that she knew well—a fury that had kept her alive despite her miserable existence. Merek had done this to her. There was a time when her beauty was known throughout the land. The flame-haired maiden with the milky skin and pristine features. Her beauty had been her prize—her weapon, and she'd used it to snare an untold number of gallant knights, princes, and even a king. That is until Merek cursed her. She snarled. How she hated her older brother. He'd taken everything from her, and she was determined to make him pay. Merek and his self-righteous goodness. Merek and his precious Grimm Laws, always trying to restore the balance of goodness.

Their origin was of the stars. They were dual creatures made of something that wasn't quite heaven and not quite earth. Their aging was slow compared to mortals—in the time a mortal aged a year, they aged only a day. Merek considered himself a guardian of mankind, and so had her brother Caleb. Together, they had crafted The Grimm Laws, those sacred laws that were supposed to bring justice and order to the land. At first, Griselda had been amused at Merek's interest in the paltry lives of mortals. To her, mortals were playthings to be used for enjoyment and then discarded. Everything changed when Merek cursed her. She'd tried to fight back, and might've won had Caleb not jumped to Merek's defense. In a display of utter stupidity, Caleb died trying to defend Merek. All of Caleb's power was transferred to Merek, making him stronger than she ever thought possible. But Merek's power couldn't last forever. His foolish fancy with mortals would be his downfall. In fact, Merek's downfall had already begun, and he didn't even have sense enough to realize it. She laughed at the thought. Did he really think he could outsmart her? When she'd learned of his foolish plan to go to a new world, she'd set her plan in motion. She'd sent her own ambassador to the new world. Her strength was growing daily, it would only be a matter of time before she too, could go to the other realm. For now, however, she could only catch a glimpse by peering into the looking stone. She clasped her claw-like hands around the stone that was now glowing white and looked into it. Her mouth twisted into a sneer when she saw Adele, standing in a room, talking to Wisteria. Wisteria had been her pupil—a puppet she could mold like clay. It irked her to think that Wisteria was temporarily out of her reach. Indignation raged in her bones as she looked and saw Cinderella, Rushton, Rapunzel, and Jack. She watched Adele spray Wisteria and command her to help with the band. She saw Adele talking to Rushton, trying to help him remember. Then she saw her give him the box of chocolate. She clawed the table, tearing deep, jagged marks into the wood.

"So the good witch is working her magic, is she? Well, we'll see about that!" She hurled the stone across the room where it crashed against the wall. She flung open the door of her hovel and stepped out into the cold night air. She threw back her hood and let out a screeching howl that echoed through the trees. She raised her hands in the air and twirled. Blackness gathered around her and up she lifted, transforming into a massive dragon. Sleek scales the color of darkness. Razor-sharp teeth. Fire hot enough to melt metal. She spread her wings, loving the raw power she wielded. Every life she consumed would make her stronger. Every gallant knight she snuffed off the earth would feed her fury, eventually making her unstoppable. She opened her mouth and breathed out fire. Since she couldn't yet destroy Merek, an unsuspecting village would have to suffice. She looked upward into the midnight sky. Tonight, vengeance would be hers. Fear would rage strong in the hearts of the bravest of men.

For tonight she would fly.

Rush took off his shirt and tossed it in the corner. Even though he knew better, he walked over to the window and looked through the blinds at Elle's roof. He halfway expected—hoped to see her out there, but she wasn't. Her window was dark. No surprise as it was after midnight. She was probably asleep, just as he should be, but his mind was too cluttered to allow him any rest. He plopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. He kept thinking about how it felt to hold Elle in his arms. She'd wanted him to kiss her. Heck, she'd practically asked him to. And he should've done it. He was tired of trying to fight the attraction between them. If only he could get her to admit what he already knew—that they belonged together. He scowled thinking of Edward. It was always Edward. How could she think a guy like Edward could make her happy? Sure, he was passably handsome and the quarterback, but there was no substance. On the surface he was a do-gooder, but he didn't even have the guts to stand up for one of his team members. Last summer, that fateful day in the locker room when he'd gotten kicked off the football team, Rush had defended a smaller player that was being picked on by some bullies. Edward had been walking by at the time. Being the captain of the football team and the stand-up guy he supposedly was, Rush assumed that Edward would jump in and help, but he'd walked away, leaving Rush to face the bullies alone. For all Rush knew, it could've been Edward who planted the marijuana in his bag. Putting that sordid mess aside, the simple truth was that if Edward had truly made Elle happy then she wouldn't have come knocking on his door in the first place. His mind went to the picture, hanging in the study. Why did Adele have a picture of Elle, dressed in ancient clothing? Standing in front of it, he could've sworn it was her, but thinking about it now, he assumed it must be a relative. But the girl looked exactly like her. And then, there was the strange conversation he'd had with Adele, urging him to fight for Elle. What had she said? That he was the type of guy that would risk a kingdom for a single kiss? He chuckled. While he didn't know anything about a kingdom that certainly sounded like something he would do.

He tried to pinpoint what was bothering him. It was obvious that Adele was crazy. What did he care what a crazy woman said or did? He stopped. Bingo. He was starting to think Adele did know what she was talking about, and that maybe she wasn't so crazy after all. There was that weird connection he had with the girl in the picture. It was like she was calling to him. He'd experienced déjà vu, like he could remember her wearing a gown and living in a castle... or something like that. At first, he assumed it was due to his relationship with Elle. Admittedly, that was part of it, but there was more. He sat up in bed. The chocolate. He'd been so frustrated with Elle that he'd forgotten all about it. He'd thrown the box down on his desk without giving it a second glance. He got up, retrieved it, and then sat back down on the bed. He opened the box. What was it that Adele had said? The chocolate would help him remember. It was an impressive assortment of chocolates, and they all looked very expensive. He shrugged. At the very least, it would taste good. He plopped a truffle into his mouth, savoring the smooth richness of the white chocolate. When it was gone, he put another into his mouth. He waited a minute to see if anything happened. Nothing. He laughed at his own foolishness, then placed the box on the floor beside his bed. He lay back down on the bed, welcoming the relaxing sensation that was sweeping over him. The last thing he remembered was how heavy his eyelids felt when he closed his eyes.

Rushton paused and held up his hand for Edward to halt.

"Is that it?"

Rushton placed a finger to his lips and nodded. As silently as they could, they padded their way through the tall grass and towards the thatched hut in the distance. They'd stolen out of the castle at dawn, using a secret passageway that Rushton didn't know existed. Thankfully, Edward knew the layout of the castle inside out. A guard had recognized them as they approached the outer gate, so Edward gave him four silver pieces in exchange for his silence.

Rushton wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. They'd been walking through the forest all morning. The sun was still rising in the sky, so Rushton guessed it wasn't quite midday, but it was getting close. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd eaten only a crust of bread and some figs for the morning meal. He pushed the thoughts of hunger aside and tried to focus instead on the task at hand. It was imperative that Edward find a new distraction other than Cinderella. Ever since the tournament, he'd talked of little else. The sight of Cinderella in Edward's arms at the victory celebration was nearly more than he could bear. To make matters worse, Edward had even suggested that perhaps it was unnecessary for them to visit the Sorceress Griselda because he'd already found Cinderella. "Nay, you can't be so easily swayed by the first pretty maiden that crosses your path," Rushton had told him. That's when he decided that a trip to visit Griselda was vital.

When they approached the hut, Rushton looked back at Edward. "Let me do the talking. We want to come out of this alive."

Edward nodded, his face ashen.

Griselda sat by the boiling cauldron, listening to the exchange taking place between Rushton and Edward, just outside her door. With the help of one of her spells, her hearing had gotten keener with old age. A wicked smile spread over her face as she rubbed her withered hands together. Oh the trials and tribulations of young love! She smirked. She'd made Wisteria pay handsomely for this favor. Yes, indeed, and she wasn't through with her yet.

A loud knock vibrated the door, and she placed a hood over her head before answering, "Enter." The lads had to bend down to keep their heads from touching the top of the doorframe. Griselda saw the Prince first. His golden hair picked up the flecks of light of her small fire. And then there was Wisteria's handsome son with the dark hair and high cheekbones. How like his mother he was with those brooding eyes and firm jaw. She smiled, revealing sunken gums with no teeth. Their suspicious eyes darted around the hut like scared mice.

The dark-haired one cleared his throat. "My name is Rushton, and this is ..."

She waved a hand in the air. "No need to introduce yourself to me. I know who you are and why you're here. Just give me the coins." She held out her gnarly hand.

Rushton took a step back. "Not so fast. If you know why we're here, then tell us his fortune, and we'll give you the coins." Edward stepped behind Rushton.

Her loud cackle vibrated through the room, and she gave him an appraising look. "Smart lad. Hmm, let's see... " She lifted a finger to her jaw and feigned thinking. She stared down into the cauldron. "You come here in search of love." A sickly green smoke rose from the liquid. "Your past is thorny. Ah, your heart was once broken by a crafty, wily maiden."

Edward gasped when the face of a young maiden appeared in the smoke.

Griselda giggled. "A maiden of bewitching beauty, no doubt, but alas... she was unworthy of you." She waved her arm through the smoke, and the face disappeared. "Your parents sent her away." She made a tsking sound with her tongue. "But a broken heart mends, and you seek another love." She paused. "Ah, what is this?" Her claw-like nails tapped the cauldron. "A warning. King Aalexander is losing his grip on the kingdom. Outside forces threaten his peace, the safety of the kingdom. He has forged an alliance with King Felipe. You are to marry the Princess Helsin." The princess's man-face sprang forth from the smoke. Griselda let out a fiendish laugh. "No wonder you risked beheading to seek my help. Alliances are not easily broken. In order for the king to change his mind about the prince's arranged marriage..." she turned and eyed Edward, "... the prince must find true love."

"But how is that possible?" Edward stepped forward out of the shadows.

The fire caught, sending flames shooting up around the cauldron, reflecting against Griselda. For a moment, her face transformed into a monster with black holes for a mouth and eyes. Rushton and Edward gasped at the sight, but in the blink of an eye, she regained her former image. "Why, Edward, it's simple. You will rescue your damsel in distress at the market place by the time the sun sets a day after a fort night. She will be your true love."

Edward looked doubtful. "How will I recognize her?" He motioned. "Can you conjure her in the smoke as you did the others?"

Griselda laughed. "We must leave something to the imagination, my Prince. She will be the only damsel that needs rescuing, and she will have a flower in her hair." She paused and looked as if she might say more, but instead, shook her head and waved a hand in dismissal. "That is all. You may go."

Edward offered a low bow while Rushton emptied the coins from the pouch. "We thank you for your services," Rushton said, motioning for Edward to walk towards the door. "I trust that is enough compensation for your trouble?"

"It'll suffice," she muttered, counting the coins. "Yes, indeed," she repeated, thinking of the heap of coins Wisteria had already given her. Fools, they were. All fools, so easily manipulated. Knowing that Merek had a vested interest in these two gave her a particular delight. Now she had only to sit back and watch as their pitiful lives unraveled at the seams.

## Chapter Eighteen

# Turning Over a New Leaf

As soon as the words left her mouth, Elle realized she'd made a serious mistake. The cheerleaders were looking at her like she had two heads, and Lynessa looked pleased. Not good. Not good at all.

Lynessa cocked her head, giving Elle a speculative look. "So you're saying that we should do a triple-jump combination at the end of the routine, and then you want Brooke, Mindy, and Ashley to do an around-the-world?"

Elle looked at Rae, who'd gone pale. Why did everyone keep second-guessing her? "Well, you have to admit, it would be a spectacular finish. We could at least try it and see what we think."

Lynessa snorted. "Is this coming from the same captain that refused to do the 'around-the-world-jump' in our last competition because... let's see if I can remember the exact phrase—'a complicated move like that is light years beyond the ability of this squad. The way you cows are moving, you'll be lucky if you can pull off a spread eagle, much less an around-the-world.'"

Elle's heart began to pound. "I said that?" She looked at Rae who nodded slowly. Wow. Had she really been so horrible before the accident? No wonder these girls had it in for her.

Rae stepped forward. "In Elle's defense, our around-the-world's were looking pitiful. Elle was just trying to choreograph a routine that would help us win."

Lynessa began tapping her long fingernails on her arms. "Well, unfortunately, it didn't help us win, did it Elle? We lost."

They had? She couldn't remember. Elle shook her head. It was time she took control of this squad. "Regardless of what I said or did in the past, I think we can do it." She eyed the girls, pleading with them to give it a try—pleading with them to give her a chance.

"We can try it," Rae urged.

Brook's eyes went wide, and she tossed her long hair. "That's easy for you to say, you're not the one doing it."

"Let's just try it. What can it hurt?" This came from Ashley, the most agile jumper in the group.

"Fine." Lynessa gave Elle a snarky smile. "It's your funeral, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"Good." Elle clasped her hands together, ignoring Lynessa's sarcastic remark. "Let's take it from the triple combination. Five, six, ready, go." They made it through the first sequence without incident with Elle urging them on mentally, and then it happened. Mindy went up for the around-the-world and came down wrong on her ankle. She doubled over in pain.

Everyone gathered around her. "It's my ankle, I've twisted it," she moaned.

"I'll get her some ice," one of the girls said.

"I'll go too," another offered. They trotted off towards the field house.

Lynessa spun around and got up into Elle's face. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault? It was an accident." She looked down at Mindy, who was crying softly. "I'm so sorry."

Mindy just shook her head and looked away.

"Do you know what? I'm tired of putting up with this!" Lynessa jabbed a finger into Elle's chest.

"What're you talking about?"

"You have no business being on this squad, much less being the captain. You once accused us of being subpar, but the truth is you're the one that's subpar."

Rae stepped up to them. "That's not fair. It's not Elle's fault she was in an accident."

Elle knew Rae was trying to defend her, but she was only making things worse.

"I'm sorry Elle had an accident, but enough is enough! Must we all suffer because Elle had an accident?" Lynessa looked around. "You know you're all thinking it, but you're too chicken to say it! Brooke, tell her what you were just telling me."

Brooke looked like she might faint. "Lynessa, stop," she whispered.

"Stop? No, I won't stop. Someone has to tell the truth."

Elle's face fell. "What truth?"

"You don't deserve to be the captain, and you no longer belong on this squad."

The world seemed to fall out from under Elle, making her feel lightheaded.

"You don't mean that." Rae looked around, trying to rally support from the other girls. "Tell her that we don't all feel that way."

They all stood there like a bunch of mutes. Elle's hands started to shake, and she clutched them together. "I'm sorry I let you down," she said quietly. She took a step back from the group and looked down at Mindy. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

Rae glared at the other girls. "Stop this! Can't you see what's happening here?" She turned on Lynessa. "You've had it in for Elle from day one. This isn't about cheerleading, this is about Edward. You're ticked because you want Edward, and he prefers Elle over you."

Lynessa laughed. "Oh Rae, what a gullible nincompoop you are. This has absolutely nothing to do with Edward. Can't you see that Elle's got you wrapped around her little finger?" She lifted her chin in the air. "I move that Elle be officially removed as our cheerleading captain."

"And replaced by you I suppose?" Rae shot back.

"Any one of us would be an improvement over her." She shot Elle a scathing look.

It was in that moment everything suddenly became clear. Elle looked across the field to where the football players were practicing. She caught a glimpse of Edward, throwing a perfect spiral to one of his teammates. As much as she hated to admit it, Lynessa was right. She squared her shoulders, hoping she could keep the quiver out of her voice. "A vote won't be necessary." She looked Lynessa in the eye. "You are mean and spiteful, but you are right about a couple of things." She looked at the cheerleaders. "I'm stepping down as captain."

The girls just stood there, refusing to look her in the eye.

"But you can't," Rae said. "I won't let Lynessa do this to you."

"She's not. I'm doing it to myself." Elle shrugged. "I'm tired of pretending to be someone I'm not. I don't know what I said or did before the accident, but I do know what I'm saying now. I'm quitting the squad," she finished resolutely.

"Elle, don't be so dramatic. No one's asking you to quit the squad." Brooke rolled her eyes. "We just don't think you're qualified to be the captain, that's all."

"You can't quit!" The words echoed through the group.

"Thanks for that little assessment of my qualifications, but I'm not asking for your permission, Brooke. Or the permission of anyone else, for that matter." She took a long look at the cheerleaders, these girls that had supposedly been her closest friends. With the exception of Rae, she didn't feel even the slightest tinge of warmth toward them. Her eyes rested on Rae, and she gave her a slight smile.

Rae searched her face. "So this is how it ends?"

"Yep, this is how it ends." She turned to Lynessa. "Congratulations, you finally got what you wanted. Enjoy it while you can because this is the last time you'll ever get the upper hand over me. I can promise you that." She paused long enough to relish the horrified look on Lynessa's face. Then without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, not looking back.

As Elle walked home, a renewed sense of purpose kindled in her breast. It felt good to quit the cheerleading squad. The old Elle had been so defined by the title and all it entailed. But she'd had the courage to step away. Even though it was a small victory, it felt good to be moving in the right direction. There were still so many unanswered questions, and Elle had to come to terms with the fact that she might never fully understand the person she was before. But she was certainly growing more comfortable with the person she was becoming. The wind picked up, ruffling Elle's hair and clothes. Things were changing. She turned her face to the wind, welcoming the crispness against her skin.

Something new was beginning, and she was finally ready to face it.

# A Note from the Authors

Hey there, thanks for taking the time to read _Banish My Heart,_ the first book in The Grimm Laws Series _._ If you enjoyed it, please take a minute to give us a review on Amazon. We really appreciate your feedback as we depend largely on word of mouth to promote our books.

We've always loved fairy tales! There's something magical and comforting about reading a fanciful book where everyone lives happily ever after. Of course, things don't always turn out so perfect in the real world. We wanted to write an in-depth fairy tale where the characters become real and where things don't always work out so perfectly.

A funny side note that happened to Jennifer: When Mom and I were about halfway finished writing the novel, I decided that it would give me a clearer perspective if I were to stop writing and read it from start to finish. I became so engrossed in the story I forgot that I had written it, and when I reached the end (as far as we had written thus far), I had this burning desire to know what was going to happen next. Then I caught myself and thought: _You moron, you have to finish writing it before you can read the rest of it!_

We hope you'll feel the same way about book II—that you just can't wait to see what will happen next!

_The Magic in Me_ (Book II) is available on Amazon or get your free copy when you sign up for our newsletter HERE.

# Excerpt of The Magic in Me (The Next Book in the Grimm Laws Series)

This book is available on Amazon or get your free copy when you sign up for our newsletter HERE.

* * *

She'd quit the cheerleading squad! Elle chuckled, wondering what her former self would think of that decision. She would no doubt be livid. Tell Elle she was out of her freaking mind. But since that girl was locked away in her memory, perhaps never to resurface again, it was a moot point.

Elle's backpack was starting to feel heavy on her shoulders, and she shifted it back and forth, trying to find a comfortable spot. Sera was scheduled to pick her up at five o'clock after cheerleading practice, and it was now only three-thirty. She could've called and asked Sera to pick her up early but then she would have to explain that she'd quit the squad. Of course, Sera would find out tomorrow night anyway when Elle didn't cheer, but at least she wouldn't have to face her today. Besides, she only lived a few miles from the school, and it felt good to walk. She tried to sort through her conflicting emotions about what had just happened—the argument with Lynessa, followed by Elle quitting the squad and stomping off. Admittedly, Elle felt a twinge of remorse over leaving the squad, but the largest part of her was relieved. The truth was that, ever since the accident, she'd hated every minute of being on that stupid team. The pretense. The backstabbing. It was exhausting, and she had enough drama in her life without adding that to it. Maybe if she ever got her memories back, she would regret it, but at the moment, she was glad. Now she could focus on trying to relearn how to play the bass guitar. Contrary to what she'd said in her fit of anger, she wasn't quitting the band. The band was the only part of her life that felt right. She couldn't explain it, but she felt comfortable around Rae, Rush, and Jack, and she wasn't willing to give that up. They were the only people that accepted her as she was. Her thoughts went to Rush, and she felt conflicting emotions, as always. Whatever ended up happening between them, Rush would have to eventually accept that she was part of the band and therefore a part of his life.

She didn't hear the car until it was beside her. The driver rolled down the window of the black sedan. "Hey, you need a ride?"

She looked over, not recognizing at first the guy driving the car. Then she remembered that she'd seen him sitting near Edward in a few of his classes. He was on the football team—a big guy that stood a head taller than most of the other players. A couple of days ago, she'd felt his eyes on her when she was walking down the hall at school. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable. Something she didn't like. She wondered fleetingly why he wasn't at practice with the other players. Had he watched her leave the field and then gone after her? A chill went down her spine.

"No, that's okay. I'm enjoying the walk." There was no one else out walking and no other cars. She'd been enjoying the solitude before, but now she felt uneasy.

He pulled the car over closer. "You look upset. Did something happen at cheerleading practice?"

Embarrassment flooded over her, and she shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks." She began walking faster.

He gave her a friendly smile. "Come on, Elle. Let me offer you a ride. Your house is a good two miles away. And that backpack looks heavy."

Two things struck her simultaneously—he knew her name, and he knew where she lived. The hair on her neck stood on end. She looked around, hoping to see another person, but she was alone with the guy in the car. "I don't need a ride," she said tersely.

"Why, because Edward wouldn't like it?"

Her breath caught. This guy knew a lot about her. She glared at him, trying to feign a confidence she didn't feel. Her knees were beginning to feel weak, and her stomach was doing flips. "No, because I wouldn't like it," she said, fighting to keep her voice even.

He laughed. His eyes took on a peculiar light as they trailed down her body. She felt petrified. "You're a real man killer, aren't you?"

_Run!,_ her mind screamed. But run where? He was in a car, for goodness sakes! And she would see him again at school. It was time to put a stop to this once and for all.

"That's right, Elle, a hot-blooded man killer."

She spun around and put a hand on her hip. "Well, there must not be any real men around here because I certainly don't see anybody dead!"

His eyes went wide and then he laughed. "This is going to be more fun than I thought."

Elle's heart nearly dropped when she realized that he was going to stop the car and get out. She was preparing to make a run for it, but then a woman came out of a nearby house, holding a baby. She made a beeline across the yard in the woman's direction.

"This isn't over, Elle," she heard him say as he spun off.

Elle pushed her hair out of her eyes and let out a groan. She'd been following along with a tutorial on YouTube that was supposed to demonstrate how to switch cords smoothly on the bass guitar, but the process was tedious. She'd been practicing for over an hour and didn't feel like she was any better off than she was when she first started. What she wanted to do was to throw the guitar across the room, but instead she paused the video and laid the guitar on the bed. She stood and stretched her legs. The breeze coming in through the window felt good. She fleetingly wondered if Rush were home or if he'd gone to the game.

She caught a glance of herself in the mirror and quickly looked away. After her last experience with that wretched mirror, she avoided it like the plague. No reasonable person would've seen the things she'd seen. She especially didn't want to look into it now, while she was alone in the house. Even so, it seemed to be calling to her, and she had the unreasonable urge to look into it. Goosebumps rose over her arms, and she rubbed them down. She grabbed the towel from the back of the chair and threw it over the mirror. There, she felt better. She didn't need to look in the mirror to know she looked as lost as she felt. Trying to carve out a new life was proving to be incredibly difficult.

She'd eaten dinner earlier but had the munchies. A root beer and chips were sounding good right about now. She walked out of her room, down the steps, and into the kitchen. The house was peacefully quiet. No Sera to harp on her and no Josselyn making snide remarks. It felt good to have the house to herself for once—another benefit of quitting the cheerleading squad. Her dad was out of town on business, and Sera and Josselyn had gone to the football game.

Telling Sera and Josselyn she'd quit the squad was just as difficult as she knew it would be. Talking about rubbing salt into a wound. Sera had given her a smirk and said, "Well, I'm not surprised. Not everyone is cut out for cheerleading, Elle. It takes a certain kind of girl to juggle school, work, and other demands. You haven't been the same since the accident, and that's okay. You're a different person now, and you've learned to accept your limitations. Good for you."

Josselyn seemed almost giddy over the news. She'd slapped her on the back and said, "No more high and mighty cheerleading captain, now you get to see how the other half lives, sis." Elle rolled her eyes. She wasn't sure she wanted to find out how the other half lived. It seemed that her life had been pretty blessed before the accident.

She grabbed a root beer out of the fridge, trying to squelch the loneliness that was settling over her. For a fleeting second, she regretted not going to the game, but sitting on the bleachers watching the cheerleaders perform without her would've been too painful. Going to the pep rally this afternoon had been hard enough.

Edward was disappointed when he heard the news. "Are you sure you want to quit?" he asked. "You love cheerleading."

She tried to explain to him that the old Elle had loved cheerleading and that she'd changed. The new Elle—the freak she'd become—felt differently about things. But her explanation fell on deaf ears. Edward was determined to keep things the way they'd always been. "Who's going to decorate my locker during spirit week or make me cookies?" he wanted to know.

"I quit the squad, Edward, I'm not dead! I can still do those things."

"No, you can't," he lamented. "You're not a cheerleader anymore."

She'd wanted to wring his neck. Her world was falling apart, and all Edward cared about was his stupid locker and cookies! The whole thing was so absurd she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She blew out a breath and tried to push aside the negative thoughts. Her dad was coming home tomorrow, so that meant she wouldn't have to spend the entire weekend alone with Sera and Josselyn—aka the dragon lady and her demon daughter. And she was going to work at The Chocolate Fountain tomorrow during the day. More and more, she was starting to think of The Chocolate Fountain as a refuge from her crazy life. It surprised her when she realized she was actually looking forward to spending time with Adele. She chuckled. That was a little concerning—considering how kooky Adele was. Her spirits lifted a little at the thought.

Tomorrow night was the get-together at Edward's house. At this point, she wasn't even sure she wanted to go, but she promised Edward she would. Things were tense enough between them as it was without adding stress to the situation. She'd almost told him about the creepy guy in the car, but when he acted so putout about the cheerleading, she decided to save her breath. If the guy gave her any more problems, she would deal with it then.

She walked up the steps and back to her room. She stopped short and nearly spilled the root beer down the front of her shirt when she saw him sitting on the bed, strumming her bass guitar. Her pulse bumped up a notch. "Rush, what're you doing here?"

He motioned toward the open window. "I hope you don't mind. I let myself in. I couldn't stand it any longer."

"Stand what?"

A crooked smile slid over his lips. "You really don't remember how to play at all, do you? That sounded terrible."

She smirked. "Why don't you tell me what you really think?"

He shrugged. "I always do."

She sat down in the chair beside the bed. "I'm not sure how I feel about you barging into my room. What if I had been changing... or something."

"That would've been tragic," he mused, his eyes connecting with hers. The room seemed smaller now with him in it. Today, in English she could hardly concentrate with him sitting right in front of her. That proximity had felt too close. Now he was here in her room, and they were alone. Her cheeks went hot. She swallowed hard and tried to think clearly. What was it about him that made her so crazy? It irked her when she realized he was watching her with an amused expression on his face. He was enjoying watching her squirm.

He motioned. "Don't let me keep you from eating."

She looked down at the root beer and bag of chips. She'd nearly forgotten she was holding them. "Oh." She held out the bag. "Would you like one?" There, that had come out sounding casual enough. At least she could pretend to be unaffected by him.

He shook his head. "No thanks." Effortlessly, he began playing the song she'd spent the whole afternoon trying to learn. In his capable hands, it looked so simple—so easy. She sat there watching him, all the while trying to think of something to say. Even though she was no longer in the mood to eat, she forced herself to chomp down a couple of chips and a few sips of root beer. After all, she'd gone all the way down to the kitchen to get the food. Just because Rush was here in her bedroom didn't mean she had to turn to mush. "You really know how to put me to shame," she said when he finished.

He glanced at her, then back at the guitar. "That's not why I came."

She cocked her head. "Why did you come?"

He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. He placed the guitar on the bed. "About the other day..." He reached for something beside him. "I brought a peace offering."

It only took her a second to recognize the box. She laughed. "Adele's chocolate? Oh, no. That's not fair. You're bringing out the big guns now."

"Uh huh, she gave them to me. I've been saving them for just the right occasion." He flashed a devilish smile. "I think your aunt likes me."

"Is that so?"

"Yep, seeing how handsome and irresistible that I am. I think your aunt digs younger guys."

She gulped and nearly choked on her root beer, then she started laughing. Rush was always so serious and intense. This was a side of him she hadn't seen, and she was enjoying it immensely.

He gave her a sly look. "Adele and I had a nice conversation about you."

Her eyes went wide. "Really? What did you and Adele talk about?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, I can't tell you that now." He made a motion of zipping his lips.

A furrow appeared between her brows. "Why not?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe later." He lifted the lid of the chocolates. "Want one?"

She lifted her chin in the air. "No thanks. Maybe later," she sniffed, doing her best to sound aloof. They both started laughing.

He patted the bed beside him. "Come here."

"What?" Her mouth went dry, and she suddenly felt unsure of herself. Did he want to kiss her? Surely not after what happened the other day. A tingle raced down her spine, causing her breath to catch. She thought about how it would feel to have his lips on hers. How it would feel to satisfy this incredible need she obviously had for him.

Amusement danced in his eyes. "I don't bite, I promise."

She made a face and put the root beer and chips aside. If he tried anything funny, she'd deck him... or kiss him. Her eyes went to the dark curls on his tanned neck, and she thought about how it would feel to touch them. _Stop it!,_ she ordered. This was utterly ridiculous! She sat down next to him and felt a twinge of disappointment when he reached for the guitar and placed it in her arms.

"Okay, I'm going to show you a few things that will make playing the bass easier. You can't force the music. It has to become part of you. It must flow out of you naturally like water."

She took the guitar. He was sitting so close. Every inch of her body was aware of him, and he wanted her to concentrate on the guitar? Not a chance!

"No, don't hold it like that." He put an arm around her and adjusted her right hand so that it was holding the guitar. She became aware of how his muscles moved under his shirt. How his warm breath tickled her neck. "If you'll hold the guitar in this position, it will be easier to transition between the chords."

"Okay." Her heart was pounding, and she wondered if he could hear it. At that moment, she was so grateful he couldn't read her thoughts. It was only when he moved his arm away that she was able to regain a measure of concentration. She forced herself to listen to what he was saying as he continued to instruct her. "Play a G. Now F... A." They went through each chord over and over until he was finally satisfied. He brought his fingers to his chin, making a steeple. "I want you to play 'Not Enough.'"

She tensed. "By myself?" 'Not Enough' was the song they were doing for the tryouts for the formal, and it was also the song his mother had criticized. She shook her head. "I don't know it well enough. You said so yourself... I don't remember how." She looked pleadingly at him, hating the way her eyes were misting. She looked down so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze.

He put a hand on her arm. "There's no judgment here, Elle. I'm on your side." He put a finger under her chin and lifted it so that her eyes met his. Time seemed to slow, and she was struck by how stormy blue they were. There was a softness in them that pricked her heart. She could get lost in those fierce eyes and never make it out again. He gave her a small smile. How incredibly handsome he was with those chiseled features and strong jaw. "You can do it," he urged. "We just went through all the chords." He ran a finger down the curve of her jaw, then he seemed to realize what he was doing. He dropped his hand to his side.

She blew out a breath. "Okay, I'll give it a try." She took the guitar and tried to do as he instructed and let the music _flow_ out of her. Unfortunately, in her case, it tumbled out like boulders falling off a cliff. She cringed inwardly when she stumbled over the intro, but by the time she played the chorus, she was transitioning more smoothly. When she got to the end, she was delighted to discover she was playing it perfectly.

He rewarded her with a brilliant smile. "Bravo," he said, clapping his hands.

Warmth settled into her chest, and she basked in the comfort of his smile. It felt good to do something right, albeit small. She punched a fist in the air. "I did it!"

"I knew you would." A look settled between them, and she could sense that his guard was going up. He scooted back and gave her a tight smile. "Well, I guess my job here's done."

She hurriedly placed the guitar on the chair. He moved to stand, but she caught his arm. "Wait." She knew she shouldn't do it, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't let him leave without talking about what had happened the other day. She didn't want things to be weird between them. She needed Rush in her life, if only as a friend. "I'm sorry about what happened between us." Her apology bumbled out like straws tipping haphazardly out of a box. They were scattered before she could pick them up, so she kept going. "I don't know what this thing is between us."

He lifted an eyebrow in amusement. "Thing?"

Was he going to make her spell it out? She swallowed hard. "I want you to know how much I appreciate you coming over here tonight to help me. You're always there for me when I need you, and I'm so grateful for that. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come here and—"

He brushed a lock of hair from her face. "You are so beautiful," he murmured. He traced her lips with the tip of his finger. She leaned into him. "I shouldn't be here, and I shouldn't kiss you. I promised myself I wouldn't..." The side of his finger went down her neck and along her collarbone, sending tantalizing shivers down her spine that melted into her bones. He leaned in, and her lips parted expectantly. For a fraction of a second, she feared he would pull away, but then his lips came down hard on hers. She let out a tiny moan as his tongue found hers, and she linked her fingers around his neck. The kiss deepened, and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt dizzy as his tongue explored her mouth. Kissing him was everything she'd hoped it would be and more. A whisper of something settled over her, and she felt like they'd been in each other's arms a million times before. It was a feeling of coming home, of completeness. She'd never had the strength to resist him. He was the strong one. It felt right to be here with him, like nothing could ever come between them.

"What—is—going—on—here?" They looked up to see Sera standing in the doorway, a dark shadow of misery forever blocking the sun.

Elle let out a cry of dismay and jumped back from Rush.

Josselyn stepped up beside her, a cynical smile on her face. She giggled. "From the looks of things, Mother, I'd say it's pretty obvious what they're doing."

Humiliation burned through Elle. She glanced at Rush who looked as angry as she felt. "You have no right to be in here," Elle said stiffly, trying to hold onto whatever shred of dignity she had left.

Sera raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" She pointed at Rush. "You have no right to be here." She turned on Elle. "And you... " condemnation dripped from her lips "... now I know why you didn't want to go to the game. You planned this whole thing so you could be alone with him in your bedroom."

Rush stood and faced Sera. "This isn't her fault. I came over to help her with some chords, that's all."

"Oh, is that what you were doing?" Sera let out a derisive chuckle. "Obviously."

Rush's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you give Elle some credit? She's a good person, and you would see that if you opened your beady eyes."

Elle stood and grabbed his arm. "Don't." She knew from personal experience that going head-to-head with Sera would only make things worse.

He looked at Elle, then back at Sera. "I won't apologize for what I've done," he said, squaring his jaw.

Sera smirked. "Well, we'll see about that... once your mother finds out."

Rush's face fell a notch, and he jerked it back into place, but not before Elle saw it. Sera had gone for the jugular vein and it worked. Ms. Porter already disliked her, and now she would hate her. Everything was crumbling, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Just wait until Edward finds out. Your devoted boyfriend was so worried about you tonight. He even came over after the game and asked about you." Josselyn frowned. "Imagine what he'll do when he finds out you were here... with him." She shook her head. "Poor Edward," she purred.

A furious expression twisted over Rush's face, and he looked like he was going to say something else. "Just go," Elle urged. Her eyes pled with his. "Please."

He shook his head and stormed out.

When he left, Elle sat down on the bed. She felt empty and cold. "Nothing happened." She hated how dirty she felt. It was just like Sera and Josselyn to twist something good around, turning it ugly. "He just kissed me... that's all."

Sera scoffed. "You were alone in the house with that boy, and you expect me to believe that all you did was kiss?"

Elle hugged herself. "Yes, that's all we did." Tears welled, and she started blinking them back. "You saw us, all we were doing was kissing."

"That was some kiss," Josselyn hooted.

"Oh, why don't you just shut up? You couldn't get a boyfriend if your life depended on it, that's why you slink around trying to destroy my relationships."

Josselyn's eyes went wide. "How dare you!" She clenched her fists to her side and wailed, "Mother! Make her stop!"

Sera looked like she could spit fire. She pointed at Elle. "As of right now, you are grounded, young lady. You are going to keep your smart butt in this room all weekend. Now what do you have to say about that?"

"I have to go to work tomorrow." Her eyes met Sera's in a challenge. "And you and I both know my dad will be furious if you cause me to lose my job."

Sera's jaw started working and her eyes went wild. Elle halfway feared that she would slap her, but Sera managed to gain control of herself. "You don't want to tangle with me," she said, her voice menacing. "Out of respect for your father, you will go to work and nowhere else."

"Fine."

"Oh, and in case you're wondering, I will have that little talk with Rush's mother." She shot Elle a triumphant look. "You and I both know that's not going to end well."

Elle just glared at her. How she hated that horrible woman! After they left, she lay back on the bed and reached for the box of chocolate, clutching it to her chest. She pressed her eyes together tightly and let the hot tears fall. She shouldn't have kissed Rush, she knew that. Even so, for one tiny moment everything had felt right. Her skin had burned under his touch. He'd awoken feelings within her that she didn't know existed. And no one, not even Sera, could take that away from her.

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# Excerpt of The Neighbor's Secret by Kimberley Montpetit

The Neighbor's Secret ( **A Secret Billionaire Romance)**

by Kimberley Montpetit

* * *

It was the perfect day for a wedding.

After months of trying on wedding gowns, ordering invitations, and searching every bridal boutique in Toronto for the perfect shoes, Allie Strickland was ready to walk—maybe even run—down the aisle of the church and into Sean Carter's waiting arms.

She'd licked stamps to post the more than one hundred announcements until her tongue was dry. She'd suffered through at least that many long-distance phone calls home with her mother back in New Brunswick that sometimes ended in arguments and tears.

If she didn't stop weeping, her mama joked, their tiny town of Heartland Cove was going to flood over. But the calls and planning was over. Allie's wedding day was finally here.

That morning she had taken her big fat, red marker and made and X on the calendar.

"Mrs. Sean Carter, here I come," she whispered as she capped the pen and tossed it inside a packing box.

After five years of dating, she and Sean had gone through grad school together, first jobs, saving money, and now Sean was climbing the ladder to become a partner with Learner & Associates Law Firm.

Tonight she'd be with the man of her dreams forever. No more work interruptions. No more hurried lunches—or no lunches. No more agonizingly long street car rides to get to one another's apartments. Lately, they'd just meet somewhere for a late dinner.

Tomorrow, new renters were moving into her apartment on Bloor Street. When she and Sean returned from their honeymoon cruise to the Bahamas, Allie would unpack all the boxes sitting inside Sean's apartment waiting to officially move in.

From inside the hired car, street signs and green lights whizzed past, but with every passing intersection of shops, restaurants, and apartment buildings, Allie's stomach jumped. She checked the time on her phone. The wedding began in ninety minutes and it would take at least half of that just to get through traffic.

She sent a text to Sean and then tried to stare out the window in an effort to settle her nerves. Despite staring blankly at the constant concrete and tightly packed buildings, Roger's Stadium glinted in the lowering afternoon sun.

With her brother Jake at the wheel and the car full of her mother, sister, and best friend Marla on their way to the Episcopal Church, Allie's brain went over her luggage in the trunk, packed for fun, sun, and the beach.

Three bikinis; red, black, and purple.

Slinky dresses for candlelit dinners.

Five pairs of shoes, including running clothes.

Lingerie and toiletries.

She couldn't _wait_ to get on that plane tomorrow morning and leave work and stress and family behind.

Seven perfect days with Sean. Finally, finally, finally.

"I don't think Toronto has ever looked lovelier," Allie sighed happily, pressing her nose against the glass like a schoolgirl.

Golden sun warmed her shoulders through the window. She was excited, anxious, and terrified all at once—and missing Sean. She hadn't seen him in three days due to his working overtime so he'd have a few days off for their honeymoon.

"I promise we'll have a longer honeymoon when I'm finished with this current trial," he'd said last week. "A cruise of the Greek Islands in autumn."

"You know all my dreams," she'd told him, throwing her arms around his neck and feeling the beat of his heart against hers.

Pulling her arms down, Sean had given her a peck goodbye. "You know I have to be in the courtroom at seven a.m., Allie."

She'd frowned, turning away to stare out the window of her apartment. It was a spectacular view of downtown and the lake. She'd been lucky to get this flat a year ago and hated to let it go, but Sean had a bigger place so she'd reluctantly given up her dream apartment.

"That case has taken over your life. _Our_ lives," she said, trying not to whine. "We haven't been out in ages. We've hardly kissed in months."

"But we're getting married in a few days, Allie. Be a grown-up and get used to the hectic life of a criminal defense lawyer."

She despised those moments when he treated her like a child. But all she could say was, "But I _miss_ you. Don't you miss me?"

As soon as she spoke the words, Allie chomped down on her tongue. Sentiments like those merely underscored his assessment of her as a petulant child.

"Your dress!" Mrs. Strickland suddenly shrieked from the front passenger seat, motioning to Jake that there was a red light before throwing a glare at her daughter in her wedding finery.

"These darn no left turn streets," Jake muttered, braking so hard they all lunged forward. "Traffic is horrible. They've got the next two streets blocked off for a 10K run."

Quickly, Allie hitched up the beaded satin wedding gown around her to prevent wrinkles on the back end.

"You simply _can't_ have wrinkles when you walk down the aisle," her sister Erin said with a dose of sarcasm. "It would be, like, a crime or something."

Mrs. Strickland gave her youngest daughter a second glare and then silently held out her palm when Erin snapped her gum.

Erin stuck her wad of chewing gum in her mother's hand, smashing it down vehemently in revenge, and leaned back with a sulk.

"Thanks for the gum sacrifice," Allie told her, nudging at her sister's shoulder.

"Huh," Erin grunted, sliding another pack of spearmint contraband from her handbag.

"Look at the blue sky and enjoy the fact that there isn't ten feet of snow on the ground."

"You mean smog and obnoxiously tall concrete they call architecture."

"That's because you're sixteen."

"Girls!" their mother cried, leaning forward to check the name of the cross street.

Jake remained stoic, his mobile giving out directions in an English accent.

"Don't fight on your wedding day."

"It's not _my_ wedding day," Erin said, making one of her famous faces, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.

"Obviously. But today is Allie's most special day in her entire life. Be nice. Mind your manners. And _please_ don't put your chewed gum on the dinner plate at the reception this evening."

"I'm not eight!" Erin protested with a huff. She crossed her arms over the deep maroon bridesmaid dress. Lower cut than Mrs. Strickland had wanted, but nobody had listened to her protests when the wedding planning rose to extreme levels of tension.

Marla Perry, Allie's best friend since Kindergarten, reached over with a tissue. "You've got a smudge of frosting on your face, Allie."

"Where?" Allie scrabbled inside the tiny white lace-covered wedding bag for a mirror, which, of course, only held two tissues and a lipstick for refreshing. Allie had a tendency to bite off her lip color. "How could you let me leave the house like that?"

"It's just a tiny smidge," Marla assured her. "Probably cream cheese from the cinnamon roll."

"You just _had_ to go and make cinnamon rolls for breakfast on the day I wanted to be my skinniest best self."

"I knew you'd go all day without food if I didn't give you something. And then we'd be picking you up off the floor in front of the minister when you fainted from starvation."

"Not starvation. Sugar overload. I should have had a granola bar."

"Granola bars are for birds, not real people," Marla said, one eyebrow raised in a decidedly snarky position. "Fainting can be a means to an end. Sean will scoop you up from the cold floor and kiss you passionately."

Marla had snagged the lead role in _Romeo and Juliet_ in the high school drama production class and swore she'd leave their pathetic, tiny town of Heartland Cove and run away to New York City. She'd gotten as far as Toronto—which, for a Heartland Cove resident, that boasted a population of 899 was, nevertheless, a major feat. But her Fine Arts degree in photography was proving difficult to find a decent paying job.

She'd finally taken a position shooting kids school photos all over town with Life Touch, but was determined to open her own business.

The thought of having your own business made Allie jealous. Despite using her MBA to snag a good paying position, she was bored to tears with financial reports and office politics as the manager at a small branch of The Royal Bank.

"Mom. Chill," Jake said at last. Miss British GPS voice told him to turn right, but when he did he hit another red light and jerked to a stop. All the women braced a hand on their seats, then adjusted dresses and jewelry.

"Warn us next time, Jake," Mrs. Strickland said, the frown deepening between her eyes.

Allie did not miss the family dynamics living in Toronto, although she sometimes got nostalgic for Heartland Cove, the town where she'd been born, worked her teen summers at the Strickland Family Fry Truck, and had her first kiss on the Bridge of Heartland Cove with a boy who told her he'd love her forever—and then promptly moved to Newfoundland three weeks later. It might as well have been Timbuktu.

After a few sexy Facebook messages, he'd posted a picture of himself with a suntanned blond girl—and disappeared from her life forever.

In Heartland Cove he'd been her only possibility for a boyfriend until she'd met Sean her senior year as an undergrad in Business School.

Sean Carter was the complete opposite of the boy from tiny Heartland Cove High. Tall, slim and dark-haired with smoldering eyes and a crooked grin that melted her heart.

"I think butterflies have set up permanent housekeeping in my stomach," Allie said now, the clock ticking down to the moment they both said, "I do".

Sean was now on the verge of being offered the position of junior partner at Learner & Associates. He'd worked hard and received top marks in law school. Now the man lived and breathed law, briefs, and depositions. His mind was sharp, he practically memorized everything he read, and he was quickly becoming a talented and incisive criminal lawyer. Being in the courtroom gave him a thrill like he was riding the most daring and dangerous roller coaster.

Sometimes, Allie worried that _she_ wasn't thrilling enough. The only time Sean got truly passionate was after he'd argued a heated and feisty trial.

Mrs. Strickland patted her hand. A little bit comforting. A little bit impatiently. And a little bit sadly.

"You alright Mom?"

Her mother gave a wan smile, and a tug of empathy rose in Allie's chest. She'd never seen her mother wearing red lipstick. Any makeup really. The family fry truck wasn't exactly conducive to glamour frying burgers and fries for the tourists that swarmed the town every day.

Heartland Cove's main industries were potato and lavender farming, trucking—and buses that gorged tourists three times a day to gawk at the Heartland Cove bridge—the _world's_ longest covered bridge.

Mrs. Strickland brushed off any discomfort she was feeling. "I'm a fish out of water in the glamour of Toronto."

"You look lovely, Mom."

Her mother was wearing a maroon sheath trimmed in lace, black pumps, pantyhose, and a ton of hairspray in a traditional middle-aged pouf. A far cry from jeans and a splattered, greasy apron.

Her cell phone began to buzz, and she recognized the familiar ring of her fiancé. "It's Sean!" she shrieked, patting at her dress and then peering along the floorboard of the car. "I can't find my phone! Why's he calling? I talked to him just before we left the apartment. What if he got in an accident?"

"Calm down," Jake said, speeding through a light. He turned to give Allie a grin. "Probably a speeding ticket."

"Be useful and help me find my phone, Erin!"

Her sister pressed her lips together and folded her arms across her chest, tapping one toe on the floor mat.

"Okay, sorry," Allie quickly corrected. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm panicking."

"Wedding day jitters," Marla said soothingly, searching under the leather seats.

"I know, I know," Allie said, lifting wads of satin as delicately as possible. She shook out the folds of her gown, but there was no sign of the phone. It was as if it had disappeared into another dimension.

"I wish you'd gotten married in Heartland Cove, sweetheart," Mrs. Strickland said wistfully.

"Really, mother? You bring that up again when we're almost to the church?"

"Wee—eell." Her mother had the good sense to look guilty.

The ringing had stopped by now and Allie's stomach clenched. Sean had trained her to never miss a phone call from anyone.

He always said that if they were going to excel at their careers, get every promotion they could _and_ start their own law firm one day (Allie as office manager and head of PR), he did have a point. "Let no opportunity go to waste. Take them all."

"Today is my— _our_ wedding day," she said with gritted teeth, wondering if she'd lost the phone out the window, which was ridiculous, but it couldn't have vanished into thin air.

"Your phone is probably on the floor," Erin said, still tapping her foot.

"Can you help me reach down and get it?"

Erin heaved another deep sigh and dug around the floor, swishing yards of satin and tulle out of her way.

"Careful of my dress!"

"I'm being careful. And . . . it's not here."

"Marla!" Allie said, panic now bringing tears to her eyes.

Marla wagged a finger. "Don't you dare cry and mess up that makeup job. Here, grab the seat back and lift your bum." Marla ran her fingers along the leather seat under Allie's wedding gown. "Aha!" She held up the cell phone between two fingers and plopped it into Allie's lap.

"You're a lifesaver," Allie said, quickly checking her voicemail. Sean's deep voice spoke into her ear. "Hey, Allie, I had to run by the office to pick up a new report for this case. Mr. Thompson said I have to read it tonight. The defendant was caught—well, never mind what he was doing. I can't tell you that. But I _will_ be at the church. Hitting green lights now, almost to the office."

His voice abruptly stopped and Allie stared at the lifeless phone. It would have been nice to hear an "I love you", but perhaps he'd found a parking space and run inside the office building.

"What's up?" Marla asked.

"Nothing," she lied. "Everything is fine." Inside, she couldn't help fuming. "He might be five minutes late," she added, just to prepare her family.

She hated when they complained about Sean and his awful work schedule. She didn't want to give them any more ammunition than necessary. Sean was there for all the important occasions. Right now was a critical time in his career and when they were able to be together in the same house it would be so much easier to support each other.

It was too bad that she couldn't have been office manager for Sean's firm but Mr. Learner insisted on a policy of no married employees so when the position came up Sean had told her not to bother applying.

"At least your flight isn't until morning," Erin said, kicking off her shoes and studying her legs under her dress. No doubt, Allie's sister wanted to be at the lake water skiing.

"That's not helpful," Marla told Erin. "Sean will be there waiting for Allie with the minister. The chapel looks spectacular," she told Allie reassuringly.

Despite her words, a sick feeling grew in Allie's stomach.

Marla nudged at her and Allie jerked her chin up, thoughts scattering. In a low voice her friend said, "I know what you're thinking."

"What?" she hissed under her breath, not wanting the rest of the inhabitants of the car to overhear them; namely her diary-reading younger sister.

"You don't want to be embarrassed because you know Courtney Willis is going to be in the front row of the church, watching you marry her old boyfriend."

"The front row is reserved for family!" Allie retorted.

"Okay, that was rhetorical. You know what I mean."

Sadly, Allie did. "In what universe is it fair that Sean's old girlfriend gets paired up with _my_ fiancé on this new high profile case?"

"In the universe of Ally Strickland," Marla said prophetically.

"That is not funny."

"I'm trying to get you to crack a smile. You should be glowing. You're marrying the man of your dreams—not Courtney's dreams. She lost him. Bask in the triumph. Hold your head high."

"Why did Sean invite her in the first place? We had two arguments about Courtney over the past month."

"Listen, Allie, I stamped all those envelopes myself. Sean sent out invitations to everyone at the firm. He couldn't leave her out, especially when they're paired up on this case."

"Why did she RSVP? Didn't she realize it was a pity invitation—not an event she was expected to actually attend?"

Before Marla could answer, Jake turned off the ignition and jumped out to open the doors all around. "We're here!"

Allie's stomach lurched. The journey to the beautiful little church was over. The moment had arrived.

In forty-five minutes she would be Mrs. Sean Carter.

Get the Neighbor's Secret on Amazon HERE.

# Excerpt of Rescue My Heart by Christine Kersey

"Well, isn't this just perfect?" Lacey Porter murmured as her car sputtered before the engine shut down. Coasting onto the shoulder of the road, she glanced at the gas gauge where the needle had settled below the E.

_I guess that's what happens when I get so focused on drawing._

Frowning, she shifted into Park, turned on the hazard lights, then pulled the key out of the ignition.

_Now I might be late for work. Not good._

The thought of turning up late when she was such a new employee stressed her out. Trying to calm herself, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and slowly exhaling as she thought about what was going right in her life.

_At least I have a job, even if being a waitress isn't my lifelong ambition. My bestie Amber is letting me room with her. And I'm loving it here in Park City. Even though moving here was hard, I know it was the right decision._

She thought about the life she'd left behind, and a tentative smile curved her mouth.

_Most importantly, no one's telling me what to do and how to live my life. My life belongs to_ me.

Then an image of Eric—her ex-boyfriend, the man to whom she'd given the last two years of her life—crashed into her mind, and she heard him saying that she needed to get her head out of the clouds, to pay attention to things and to stop wasting her time drawing.

Eyes flying open, she sat up straight. Shoving her long light brown hair behind her ears, Lacey tried not to grit her teeth as she recalled that last ugly confrontation with Eric. The one where she'd told him she was done with him, done with the way he always ran her down, and done with his controlling ways.

Shaking her head to dislodge the memory, she focused on her surroundings. It was mid-day in early June, and as she sat on the shoulder of the road, cars whizzed by every thirty seconds or so. To her right, thick bunches of dark green pine trees filled her view, while clusters of wildflowers in riots of color caught her eye. The scene reminded her that every year nature refreshed itself, which filled her with hope that she could make a fresh start too.

The image made her want to pull out her sketchpad and begin a fresh drawing. Reaching toward the passenger seat where she'd set her sketchpad, she paused before picking it up.

_I don't have time to draw right now. Especially with my car out of gas. I have to get that taken care of and get myself to work._ She frowned. _I can't be late again._

Caty, her boss at __ Caty's Cuisine, had been understanding the last time Lacey had been late, but she didn't want to push her luck. Not with how desperately she needed this job. Not with being such a new employee.

Sighing, she took her cell phone out of her purse, but then she simply stared at it.

_Amber's at work for a few more hours so she can't come get me, and I'm so new to Park City that I don't know who else I can call._

A moment later she heard a _tap, tap, tap_ on her window. Startled, she whipped her head to the left and saw the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen standing there. Perfectly shaped lips, strong jaw, and clear green eyes that reminded her of new shoots of grass. Not to mention the way his t-shirt emphasized his fit body and muscular biceps.

He motioned for her to roll her window down, and she lowered it a few inches.

"Do you need help?" he asked as he bent toward her window.

Feeling slightly stupid, she said, "I, uh, I ran out of gas."

He smiled, displaying perfectly straight white teeth, and she was momentarily dazzled by his beauty. "I can give you a lift to a gas station," he said. "If that would help."

_Yeah. It definitely would. But I don't know you._

Staring at him a moment, she debated about what to do as she twisted her favorite ring—her late grandmother's wedding ring—on her finger.

_I don't know who else I can call and I need to get this taken care of and get to work. I don't have a lot of options. Or a lot of money._

Tossing him a quick smile, she said, "Yeah. That would be great." Then she opened her door and got out of her car.

The man took a step back, giving her room, then he gestured to the area in front of her car where they'd be out of traffic. Lacey walked to where he pointed.

The man followed her and stopped a few feet away from her. "I have a gas can. I'll run you up to the gas station and back."

Trying not to get distracted by his amazing eyes and general hotness, Lacey said, "Are you sure that's not too much trouble?"

_Don't discourage him. What will you do if he walks away? Who will you call then?_

"No. It's no trouble. I'm glad to help." He paused a beat. "I'm Jake, by the way."

Lacey studied his face. "I'm Lacey."

_Is this really a good idea? Getting a ride from a stranger?_

Not sure at all, she didn't know what else to do.

* * *

The caution in Lacey's eyes was unmistakable, but that didn't bother Jake. In fact, he fully approved when a woman was skeptical about a man. He had two younger sisters and he hoped they were just as careful about the men in their lives.

_And I hope they won't ever take a ride from a stranger._

The irony wasn't lost on him and one side of his mouth tugged upward. Then it occurred to him that Lacey had no idea he was a good guy. That maybe she didn't want to go anywhere with him but felt that she didn't have any other option. "Or I could get the gas for you," he said. "And bring it back?"

Relief lit her eyes and Jake knew that was the right suggestion.

"I don't want to inconvenience you," she said as she used one hand to push her hair behind her ear—hair that Jake had an inexplicable desire to run his fingers through.

"I don't mind," he said. And he didn't. He was between shifts at the firehouse, and though he was on his way to buy materials for his home remodeling project, his helpful streak made this opportunity irresistible. Especially when such a beautiful woman was involved. And though he was fine with running the errand for her, he would have preferred that she go with him so he could talk to her.

A smile of obvious relief turned up the corners of her mouth, which emphasized the soft curves of her face and backlit her blue eyes—eyes which had a depth to them that fascinated him.

_Yeah, I'd definitely like to get to know you._

"I really appreciate it," she said. "I'll just..." She gestured toward her car. "I'll just wait in my car." Then she walked past him, and after throwing a smile in his direction, she climbed into her car and closed the door.

_I guess that's my cue to leave._

Feeling dismissed, but with no reason to stick around, Jake nodded, then as he walked past her slightly open window, he said, "Back in a bit."

Moments later he was in his truck and pulling onto the road.

All the way to the gas station he thought about Lacey—beautiful, petite, quiet.

_Maybe I should ask her out. Why not? I'm not dating anyone right now._ He held back a frown. _Not now that Robyn's gone._

Pushing aside thoughts of the last woman he'd dated, he pictured Lacey, and again, the depths of her eyes haunted him.

_Just a simple date, a chance to get to know her._

He wasn't looking for a romantic entanglement. Not with his crazy schedule—two days on at the station, then four days off. And not with all of the other things he had going on—remodeling his house and working part-time as a realtor between shifts. Not to mention helping Boston train for his boxing match.

_It would just be for fun. Why not?_

His smile grew as he decided he would do just that. And he was confident she would agree.

Get Rescue My Heart on Amazon HERE.

# About Jennifer Youngblood & Sandra Poole

Visit Jennifer and Sandra's Amazon Author Page by clicking here.

Jennifer grew up in rural Alabama and loved living in a town where "everybody knows everybody." Her love for writing began as a young teenager when she wrote stories for her high school English teacher to critique. She feels that it's a great privilege to be able to write with her mother, Sandra Poole. "Writing together adds a depth and spice to our work that neither of us could get independently," she says.

Jennifer has B.A. in English and Social Sciences from Brigham Young University where she served as Miss BYU Hawaii in 1989. Before becoming an author, she worked as the owner and editor of a monthly newspaper named _The Senior Times_.

She now lives in the Rocky Mountains with her family.

Sandra grew up in a small community in northeast Alabama called Alder Springs, the setting of Sandra and Jennifer's first novel, Livin' in High Cotton. It was there that she developed a deep love for literature in a two-classroom country school. She recalls that every afternoon the teachers would bring their classes together and read such classics as _Rip Van Winkle, Moby Dick, The Headless Horsemen_ , and The _Taming of the Shrew_ while all their students sat on the floor.

Sandra has worked in the administrative field for over twenty-five years. She worked her way through college while her daughters were very young and completed a four-year degree in three years. Later, she earned a Masters in Business Administration. Her experience has ranged from being an executive secretary and human resource manager for Fortune 500 companies to being an assistant to one of the vice presidents at the university where she eventually retired. She now works in the education field.

For Sandra, writing is a continual journey of discovery. She has so many ideas for other books running through her mind that it's hard to focus on one at a time.

For more information

    @authorjenn1

    Authors Jennifer Youngblood & Sandra Poole

www.jenniferyoungblood.com

youngbloodpoole@gmail.com

# Also by Jennifer Youngblood & Sandra Poole

**F airytale Retellings (The Grimm Laws Series)**

Banish My Heart

The Magic in Me

Under Your Spell

A Love So True

**Hawaii Billionaire Series**

Everything to Lose (Destination Billionaire Series)

Love on the Rocks

Love on the Rebound

**The Almost an Angel Series**

Candlelight Kisses (Book 1)

Heart of the Billionaire (Book 2)

**Romantic Thrillers**

False Identity

Promise Me Love

Burned

**Contemporary Romance**

Beastly Charm

**Southern Romance**

Livin' in High Cotton

The Paper Rose Club

The Secret Song of the Ditch Lilies (Part 1)

The Secret Song of the Ditch Lilies (Part 2)

**Short Stories**

The Southern Fried Fix
