“You can’t make me leave,” she says, her voice much less certain than it was when this started.
“No, I can’t. But I can make sure that everyone knows just what a crazy bitch you are, and once I do that, what’s the point of staying? Everyone will be wise to your games. You’ll be powerless.”
“Get. Out.”
The tone of her voice, the look on her face, and her body language make it crystal clear this bitch is tweaked, hard.
“We’ll leave, but not before I spell it out for you so that there’s no confusion later. You are not to call the department for any reason that isn’t one hundred percent business related ever again. You will not harass, intimidate, or demean any of the employees of the Charlotte’s Cove Police Department, regardless of whether they’re at work or not. If you do, I’ll arrest you.”
“I said get out!” She yells that like the unhinged psycho she is.
“I’m putting you on notice now in an official capacity as the chief of police that what you’ve revealed to us tonight shows malice. You explicitly stated that you have been—and you intended to continue to—harassing and manipulating prominent members of this community. To that end, I have to tell you that if you stay, restraining orders will be coming your way. You’re a crime waiting to happen.”
“Fuck you and fuck this hellhole,” she snarls. “You really think you’re taking anything away from me by telling me to go?”
If it didn’t bother her, she wouldn’t be as mad as she is right now.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I really do. It’s not that you love Charlotte’s Cove. In fact, a fool could see that you don’t. It’s that you love thinking you’re in charge, and that’s not the case here. You ran your fucking mouth, because you’re easy to bait. Whatever control you thought you had here is gone.”
And with that, I’m done. Some damn uncomfortable conversations are going to go down between me and the other people she was manipulating, but that can wait. Thanks to Ben, things went better than I hoped. Now I can focus on what matters—which is Ashley.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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ASHLEY
I’M DRINKING MY third cup of hot chocolate of the night—being keyed up makes me need it that much more—when there’s a knock at the door. Setting my cup down on the coffee table, I rise from the couch and hurry toward the door. When I open it and see Tyler standing on the other side, there are flutters in my stomach. The sensation gets more extreme when I meet his eyes. He looks… intense. Or maybe it’s determined.
I feel oddly shy when I hold the door open and say, “Hey. Come on in.”
I wasn’t sure he’d come talk to me when he was done dealing with Rita, but I hoped. I’m glad he’s here.
Once he steps through the door, I close it behind him and lead him to the couch. “How’d it go?”
He shrugs as I take a seat on the other end of the sofa. “She’s not going to be a problem for you or anyone else on the island anymore. It’s a long story that we’ll talk about later, but right now, it isn’t nearly as important as the other conversation we need to have.”
Gulp. This is what he alluded to earlier. I thought he meant we would talk in the coming days, not now. Guess I read that wrong.
“What’s up?”
When he moves closer to me on the sofa by a couple inches, I freeze. It’s the weirdest thing. I want him close, but at the same time, I’m nervous as hell.
“Before Rita showed up at Ted’s and started her shit, we were headed in the right direction,” he says. “Straight up, the fact that I hadn’t made my move and shown my hand was a mistake. I shouldn’t have waited, and there’s no excuse for that, because I knew the second I met you just how different you are. I was head fucked by what happened with Rita, and I let it hold me back. I fucked up.”
My first thought is that I haven’t been imagining the chemistry between us. My second is that I can’t believe this is really happening.
“The way you held yourself back after that night at the bar stung like a bitch. I wanted to turn back the clock, but of course that wasn’t going to happen. It seemed like every day you seemed further away. Everything is different now though.”
“It is?” I ask, surprising myself.
“It is,” he answers, his eyes on mine. “I’m not fucking around or getting sidetracked by things that don’t matter. I want you, Ashley. All the fucking time, you’re what I’m thinking about.”
My internal temperature rises about five million degrees with each word he says. I feel warmth spread across my cheeks as I bite my lower lip and look down at my lap. I love what he just said, but I can’t help feeling like he’s out of my league. I hate that all the horrible things Rita has been saying about my body are playing through my head on a loop right now. Tyler is gorgeous, and I’m just… me.