by Raye Wagner
He laughed, a short guffaw, and a dimple appeared. “I’m certain she did, probably right afore she boxed my ears.” He straightened up and held out his hand. “I’m Xan.”
Hope refused to act intimidated, regardless of the butterflies in her stomach. Taking his hand, she replied, “I’m Hope.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hope.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too.”
His hands were rough and calloused, and the handshake was brief. She took a step back as soon as her hand was released.
After a brief silence, the elevator doors slid open with a ding, and Hope moved toward the exit. A firm grasp pulled her back from the door. The contact was brief, but a whirlwind of anxiety coursed through her.
“I was thinking you don’t want to get off here.”
She looked at him again and couldn’t help but feel like he was laughing at her. Even his dimple mocked her. Disgusted, she eyed the monitor. They were on the seventeenth floor. Someone must have pushed the call button and gone back to their apartment.
She backed into the elevator. “Umm, thanks.”
“Right.” He smirked.
The door slid shut, and they started climbing again.
An unsettling feeling gnawed at her stomach. Hope fixed her gaze on the climbing numbers. It was only another moment before the elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor.
“Um, thanks for uh . . . you know, making sure I didn’t get off on the wrong floor, and uh . . . yeah.” She forced her lips into something she hoped resembled gratitude and glanced at the keypad, making sure she was on the twenty-first floor. She also saw that Xan was staying on the top floor. Penthouse.
“You’re quite welcome.” He met her gaze, and his lip curled. “Have a nice day, Hope.”
“Um, yeah. You too.” The doors slid shut and she stood frozen, seeing only her reflection in the polished metal. Could she have sounded any more stupid? What in the name of Hermes . . . Her train of thought skidded to a halt.
Hermes, god of linguistics. Athan’s dad.
Athan. She shook her head.
She needed to get over him. Because it was over. She’d probably never see him again. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. She’d never put him at risk.
What Hermes had said about Apollo was true. He’d killed her mom because she’d married someone else. Apollo would never let her be with anyone but him. Ugh. And he was like a million years old.
No. She needed to focus on breaking the curse. Because that was the only way for her to be free. Free to make her own decisions about life and love. She swallowed her emotions and locked her memories of Athan away in the darkest corner of her mind.
She opened the door to the scent of chocolate chip cookies.
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About Raye
Raye Wagner grew up in Seattle, the second of eight children, and learned to escape chaos through the pages of fiction. As a youth, she read the likes of David Eddings, Leon Uris, and Jane Austen. Inspired by a fictional character, Raye pursued a career in nursing, and still practices part-time. She enjoys baking, puzzles, Tae Kwon Do, and the sound of waves lapping at the sand. She lives with her husband and three children in Middle Tennessee.
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