Deadly Oath

8. Sabrina

8

SAbrINA

K ian drives me all the way up to my house, putting the truck in park. He gets out before I can say anything, walking around to my side and opening the door for me before I can tell him that it’s not necessary.

It’s what I’m used to, of course. Drivers opening the door for me, in and out of the car, anywhere I went. But something in me resists Kian’s impression of me as a spoiled princess. I don’t want him to see me that way. Especially not when he doesn’t know the truth of what kind of life I was born into.

It’s a truth I don’t want to tell him, either. Not now—maybe not ever. After all, I don’t know what kind of longevity this relationship has. If it’s going to be nothing more than a fling, then he doesn’t need to know. I don’t need to tell him about Sabrina Petrova. I can just be Sabrina Miller—this new woman that I’m trying to learn how to be. The woman who can choose her own lover, if she wants. Her own future, eventually.

I slide out of the truck, landing so close to Kian that I almost brush up against him. I suck in a breath without meaning to, and I see his gaze darken, his eyes fixed on mine as I look up at him. I half expect him to shift and pin me up against the door of the truck, crushing his mouth against mine the way he did earlier.

Instead, he reaches up, gently brushing one fingertip beneath my chin, tipping it up as he lowers his mouth to mine. And when he kisses me, it’s equally gentle—almost polite. A brush of lips, nothing more. Nothing hot or demanding or forceful.

It still sends shivers down my spine.

I feel my lips part, feel myself leaning in for more, but Kian pulls back. “I’ll see you around,” he says as he takes a step back, a glint of mischief in his eyes that both intrigues and irritates me all at once.

But then again, that seems to just be the effect he has on me.

“I’m sure you will,” I tell him tartly, then hesitate, biting my lip as I reach for my purse. “Thank you,” I add. “For dinner.”

“It was my pleasure, princess.” He grins, and before I can say anything else, he strides back around to the driver’s side, jumping in and closing the door.

I watch him for just a moment, feeling that shiver of desire still prickling over my skin. Then I turn, opening my front door, and slipping inside.

The moment it’s closed behind me, I lean back against it, letting my eyes slide shut briefly. Nothing about this evening went like I expected. I’d gone to tell Kian thank you , and?—

And, what ? Had I really thought that nothing else would happen? That I’d walk halfway across town just to thank him and leave? That he wouldn’t follow up on what had almost happened in my kitchen earlier today? I hadn’t expected him to be shirtless when I walked in, looking like that —but still, had I really been that naive?

Maybe—or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to admit what I was really hoping for.

Either way, I got it. And now I have to decide what it is that I’m going to do with it.

—

The next morning, Marie calls me to ask if I want to grab coffee with her, after she drops her kids off at school. “Cindy and Daphne are meeting me there, too,” she lets me know, and I hesitate. Marie is the only one that I still feel entirely comfortable with. But I’m supposed to be ‘getting out more,’ according to Caldwell. And with all of this happening with Kian, I know that the last thing I need is to isolate myself even more, so that all I have is time to think about it.

I can’t let him become an obsession. All of this is new to me, and I have no one, really, to guide me through it. If I let him overtake all of my thoughts and time, I’ll be in even more trouble than I already am.

“Sure,” I tell her. “I’ll see you in?—”

“About twenty minutes,” Marie says. “I’ll swing by and grab you!”

I grab a pair of dark blue jeans and a yellow knit sweater with a sunflower pattern, putting my hair up in a messy bun. By the time I quickly eat a bowl of cereal, forgoing my cup of coffee to wait until I get to the cafe with Marie, I hear the sound of her minivan pulling up outside.

She smiles brightly at me as I get in, brushing a few loose Cheerios off of the seat. “Cindy is already there. Daphne said she’s running a few minutes late. I’m so glad you said you could come!”

“Why not?” I smile in return, wishing I didn’t always feel so awkward trying to make conversation. I never had this much difficulty with my friends in Chicago—but we lived the same lives, had the same futures, liked the same things. I never know what I might say that would change Marie’s opinion of me, that would make her look at me with the same estimation that the other women do, and as much as I haven’t wanted to admit it, I want her to like me. I like that she, out of everyone I’ve met here, seems to genuinely enjoy my company.

Her—and Kian, now .

Although—I’m not always entirely sure that he does like me. I can’t tell if it’s just lust, or if it’s more. If the way he teases me is part of some bigger feeling. I don’t know enough about men to know for sure.

Marie sings along to the radio as we drive to the coffeeshop, pulling up in front of it and parking. I see Cindy already sitting in the small cluster of chairs in the window nook as we walk in, a mug of coffee sitting on the round table in the center, and she waves at us.

“Hi, Marie! Oh—hi, Sabrina.” Her voice drops a little as she sees me, and my chest squeezes. There’s nothing overtly rude in her tone—no one here would ever come across as actually rude, but there’s something in it that tells me she’s hiding a bit of disappointment that I’ve come along. “Daphne will be here in about five minutes.”

“It’s like a miniature book club meeting!” Marie says with a laugh, and Cindy shakes her head.

“Oh no, don’t suggest that to Daphne! I’m already behind on my chapters for the week. I’ll have to rush to catch up before the actual meeting.”

“I’m behind too,” I offer hesitantly. “So—right there with you.” I give her a small smile, and to my surprise, she grins at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Hot date?”

I almost lie, reflexively. But at the last second, I think— why the hell not ? Why not tell the truth? There’s nothing wrong with what’s going on with Kian and me, not like there would have been in my old life.

“Actually—yes. Kind of,” I hedge, biting my lip as I glance over at the line for coffee. My heart is suddenly beating a quick patter in my chest at the thought of telling someone about this. It makes it feel more real.

I never gossiped about boys with my friends before. A couple of them looked forward to their marriages being arranged, mostly for the freedom of having their own household away from their parents, and the future children they would have. But we all had some level of dread about the husbands that would be picked for us. Love, desire, compatibility—none of that was taken into account. Our fathers chose who we would marry based on how that match would increase their own power and the wealth of the empire they were building, not on what we wanted or hoped for.

This feels as new and uncertain as my actual budding relationship with Kian does. And there’s a measure of excitement to it, too. I feel—a little more normal.

Or, at least, what I think normal is supposed to be.

Cindy’s eyes go round in the same instant that Marie’s do. “Okay, I want to hear all about this ,” Marie says quickly. “But let’s go order our coffee, first.”

We put in our coffee order—a maple iced latte with caramel cold foam for me, and a hot pumpkin spice latte for her—and I decide to splurge a little, as well. There are homemade cinnamon rolls covered in thick icing sitting in the glass case of pastries, and despite the bowl of cereal that I ate earlier, my mouth waters a little just looking at them.

“I’ll get one of those, too,” I tell the barista, pointing at the cinnamon roll. “Heated up, please?”

I haven’t stopped thinking about Kian since last night, but I also haven’t stopped thinking about that burger, either. After a lifetime of avocado toast, quinoa bowls, and endless salads, eating something like that felt like an almost sinful experience. The kind of thing that I only ever used to do on vacations, and even then, extremely sparingly.

Coffee and cinnamon roll in hand—now also dripping with butter that Marie eagerly tells me is from a local farm, and delicious—I follow her back to where Cindy is sitting. Daphne is in line, and she raises a hand towards me, smiling at Marie.

What do I have to do to get them to like me? I suppose gossip about my date is as good of a start as anything. And maybe they’ll actually have some advice for me.

“Okay, tell me about this hot date,” Cindy says eagerly as we sit down. “Who on earth was it with?”

“I have some idea,” Marie says with a small smirk, and I bite my lip.

“Kian. Sheriff Brady,” I qualify, but from the way Cindy’s eyes go wide, she realized who I was talking about as soon as I said his first name .

“Of course it was Kian,” Cindy says, and Marie clicks her tongue, giving Cindy a warning look.

“What?” Cindy says defensively. “Look at her. Gorgeous as a supermodel. And he’s the new hottest thing in town. Of course, he went for her.”

I feel an uncomfortable, squirming sensation in my stomach. It doesn’t feel like a compliment. “I didn’t encourage it at first,” I say quickly. “He asked me out when he stopped by a few days ago. I told him no, actually. And then there was that incident out on the trail, with the rattlesnake, and then I caught a pan on fire while I was cooking, and he happened to be passing by, and?—”

Cindy rolls her eyes. “He happened to be passing by? Are you really that naive? He clearly was just looking for an opportunity to save you again.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Marie asks insistently. “I think this is good. Another reason for you to settle in and try to feel at home here. You have friends, and now a potential romance.”

Friend, I can’t help but think—I’m not really sure I can count Cindy, or Daphne, or any of the other book club girls as actual friends. But I understand her meaning.

“I’m not sure about it,” I admit. “He took me out on a date last night. And he’s kissed me once. But?—”

“ Who kissed you?” Daphne chimes in as she joins the circle, and before I can speak, Marie eagerly fills her in. Daphne’s eyes go wide, too, and when she looks at me, there’s a hint of jealousy. But it’s not the way Cindy looks at me, like she’s borderline pissed that I swept in and scooped up Rivershade’s hottest new bachelor. It’s almost as if she’s reassessing me—as if she respects me a bit more because I seem to have managed it.

Not that I really think I did anything. Kian seems more than eager to get to know me all on his own.

Shouldn’t that be a red flag? I wonder, as Marie recounts the story of the rattlesnake rescue. Maybe—but even if it is, I don’t want to reject it. I’m used to men wanting me because of who my father is, because of what marrying me would gain them in money, power, and prestige. What I’m not used to is a man genuinely desiring me . Genuinely showing an interest in me , even if that interest is wrapped up in teasing that feels like it has an edge to it, sometimes.

“I don’t know why you’re even hesitating, honestly,” Cindy says, taking a sip of her coffee. “If he showed an interest in me, I definitely wouldn’t.”

Daphne doesn’t say anything, but I see a flicker in her gaze. Something that makes me think that despite the wedding ring on her finger, if Kian showed an interest in her, she wouldn’t say no, either.

Why doesn’t he show an interest in someone like Cindy ? I wonder. Cindy is the type I would think that he would go for. Curvy figure, large and perky breasts, honey blonde hair, and big hazel eyes. She has girl-next-door but with an added splash of sexiness written all over her, and she’s the type of girl that I would imagine someone like Kian going for. He clearly thinks I’m spoiled and a bit difficult. I keep needing his help, and he seems borderline annoyed by it.

“I don’t even know if he likes me,” I blurt out, desperate for someone to help me work through all the confusion in my head. I feel like I’m flailing around blindly, and I want advice. “He seems like he’s teasing me sometimes. Like he finds things about me irritating. It’s almost like he’s making fun, a little.”

Marie laughs. “That’s just how men are, Sabrina. They pick on girls they like. It’s that playground thing, you know?” She pauses, and when I don’t nod in agreement, she frowns a little. “You know. When boys pull a girl’s hair they like. Or steal her pencils. Bully her a little. It’s their strange way of showing they’re into you.”

“Is it?” I went to a private school that mostly kept the boys and girls apart. That wasn’t my experience. But I don’t want to say that aloud. “So Kian teasing me means he likes me?”

“You really don’t have any experience with this, do you?” Daphne interjects.

I shake my head quickly. “My family was very—restrictive. That’s part of why I left. To get some space.”

That last half isn’t true at all. Not in the slightest. But I can’t say the real reason, and it’s as good as anything to get some advice about what I’m supposed to do now.

Daphne nods, as if she understands. “You should enjoy this, then,” she says. “Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, it’s Kian Brady , Sabrina. Every woman in town would die to have his attention. Just have fun with it. Have fun getting to be a little wild, a little free. No one here will judge you for it.”

Looking at the expression on Cindy’s face, I’m not entirely sure that’s true. But I feel a flutter of encouragement, all the same.

I want to explore this with Kian. I want to find out where it might go. And even if it doesn’t go anywhere at all, for once in my life, I want to find out what it might be like to choose someone for myself. Casual or serious, Kian offers something that I’ve never experienced before. And for the first time since Caldwell dumped me here, I feel like something good might actually come of this.

My phone buzzes, as I reach for the plate that has my cinnamon roll on it. I slip it out of my pocket instead, and my heart nearly stops in my chest for a moment when I see the message that pops up on the screen.

Kian: I had a good time last night, princess. Dinner tonight? I want to see you again.