Last week, I asked you what sneak peek you want me to expose from inside Chasing Goldie – my new spicy fairytale retelling of GoldilocksĀ
and the big winner was when Goldie’s ex gets a little too friendly in front of our grumpy bear shifter who SWEARS he wants nothing to do with her.
*rubs hands together*
Commence the ‘touch her and die’ sequence!!!
MWUAHAHAH!
āWho is that guy?ā My voice is tight, restrained.
Cinder makes a retching sound, “That’s Lawrence, her
on-again, off-again ex. A real loser.ā
My eyes return to the two of them, as Goldie slips away
so they can talk off side of the bar. āThen why is she talking
to him?ā
I hear it in my tone. Jealousy. It throbs in me with angry
waves that want to push me to my feet and close the
distance between me and them.
Her reaction to him isn’t like it is to all the other men
who belly up to her, wanting her to love them. The familiarity
is real, a connection is there, even if itās only a
lingering thing.
āGoldie’s too nice to turn anyone away outright,ā
Cinder says, disdain evident in her voice.
āYeah, I got that,ā I mutter back.
Over by the massive tree, Lawrence leans in closer to
Goldie, his hand pressing against the wall behind her,
cutting them off from the rest of the bar. His body language
screams possession, a clear trespassing into what I have
come to consider as my domain.
My bear roars within me, a primal urge to protect
what’s mine threatening to overtake my calm demeanor.
Calm the hell down, Ted. Everything is fine.
Goldie tries to maintain her composure, but her smile
has vanished, replaced by a tense line of restrained frustration.
Nope. Iām up and stalking across the bar in a second.
Lawrence doesn’t see me coming, too wrapped up in his pathetic attempt to reclaim what he no longer has any
right to.
Lawrenceās voice rises enough for me to catch snatches
of accusations and demands. āThis game has gone on long
enough. You know how good we are together, baby girl. I
canāt eat, I canāt sleep, I need you. You take such good care
of me.ā
Instantly, I recognize the reason they keep getting back
together. Goldieās heart is bigger than she even probably
knows. This son of a bitch has been playing on her helpful,
loving nature. But what the fuck has she been getting?
Then Lawrence dips down and lays his lips against hers.
I surge toward them, my fingers wrapping around Lawrence’s shoulder and wrenching him away. His eyes
bulge in surprise, followed by a scrutinizing icy glare.
āWho are you?ā he challenges. Tension crackles through
my muscles as the pretty boy stares me down with
contempt.
Goldieās eyes widen when she sees me. āTed?ā she asks.
āItās okay. Everything is okay.ā
I reach out for her wrist and pull her out from under the
slimeball who kissed my girl.
Sheās not your girl.
She is even if she hasnāt admitted it yet.
āTed?ā Lawrence repeats with dry amusement, as if my
name is a joke. No part of me is even slightly humorous
right now.
āIām Goldieās boyfriend,ā I announce to him with a
grim, forced cheerfulness. āAnd if you kiss her again, I will
rip the lips right off your weasley face.ā
āTed,ā Goldie urges quietly. She wants me to back off,
but a rage pumps through me. A rage I didnāt know I
possessed. I was the calm one, the reasonable one.
But reason has abandoned me and Iām seeing red.
Lawrence frowns, looking to Goldie for confirmation.
āSeriously? This guy?ā
āScratch that. If you even touch her, Iāll pull your limbs
clear off.ā
āTed,ā Goldieās voice continues to get lower, softer.
āWhat kind of blue-collar trash are you slumming it
with, baby girl?ā Lawrence asks, with an incredulous scoff.
My vision turns red as control slips from my grasp.
Iām painfully aware of how I donāt !t Goldieās aesthetic,
how out of place I am here, though for a moment I started to believe I could be at ease here. But as soon as I step outside, the cold reality of having to deal with Eliās debts, to figure out a way to get enough money to keep him from getting killed, is whatās going to keep me up all night. Even if I resell all the appliances I’ve fixed up, it wonāt be enough.
And this guy with his expensive shirt and slick
demeanor putting me down for honest work makes me so
angry I could spit.
Or shift. . .