Page 69 of All For You

Whichever way I crawled could be in his path.

I’d climb up a tree instead. Once he was on the move, he wouldn’t likely look up. I hadn’t climbed a tree in years, but I used to be good at it.

I slithered backward along the ground, keeping a close watch on him until I was behind a tree. While his back was turned, I scrambled to standing, clutched on to a branch and pulled myself up. First branch. Higher. At least the branches were closeto one another. I clutched on to the next layer of branches and pulled myself up again.

I froze. He was coming. Right this way.

Oh shit, he was going to pass right under me. Surely he wouldn’t look up? Quietly, I kept working my way up the tree. Then he was too close. I held my breath as he went past.

Crack.

Which branch was that? Not the one I was perched on?

Creak.

Darcy looked up. How much could he see? Maybe the leaves disguised me.

“Who’s there?” he called.

I squeaked.

Creak.This time, the noise was longer, louder. I wavered from side to side. “Shit,” I said under my breath.Go. Leave. Go, Darcy.

“Do you need help?” he called. At least he couldn’t see me. Who did he think I was? One of his staff’s children?

“I’m fine,” I called in what I hoped didn’t sound like my voice.

Crack.

The leaves shifted so I had a clearer view of him. He was walking toward me as another hugecracksounded, and the branch fell from under me.

I cried out and toppled toward the ground, branches scraping my legs and arms. Beneath me, Darcy dove to one side to escape the downfall. Too late, I was falling, falling, tumbling headfirst, my legs in the air now. I landed splat on top of him—and he fell backward to the ground.

“Ow!” he yelled out.

“Oh shit. Oh God. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

I was eye to eye with him, but the rest of my body was splayed over him indecently. I was sitting astride his chest, my legs sort of wrapped around his neck. He looked up at me with huge eyes.

“What the hell? Lizzy Bennet?” He let out a choking sound. Because I was sitting on his neck.

Apologizing profusely, I scrambled off him. He cried out as I smushed his face and chest and arms with my hands and knees and elbows.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I said.

Gingerly, he rolled over, got on all fours, and then stumbled to his feet.

He shook out his legs and arms, and then he moved his jaw with one hand. “Holy shit.”

“Are you okay?” I peered into his face. “Did I get you anywhere?”

“I’m okay.” He looked at me with shock. “Areyouokay?”

I was aching and sore, but that was the least of my worries. I braced myself for his disdain and anger. He was quite right to be angry.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know you were home.”

I flinched. I’d told him that I wanted space, that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him again, and yet a scarce one week later, I’d made a three-hour journey north to his home. I was watching him swim in his briefs, invading his privacy. I must seem totally bonkers.