Extreme Bachelor (Thrillseekers Anonymous #2)

Leah gasped. “How did you know that?”


“I remember,” he said. “I remember it all. Don’t you know that by now?”

“Wait—what do you mean you remember?” Nina cried, having marched down after Michael. “Just how do you two know each other?” She grabbed Michael’s arm, pulled him back from Leah.

But Leah didn’t seem to notice Nina. Her gaze was locked on his, her eyes shining with regret and hope and something more. “I’m not shiny,” she said again, and pressed a fist into her abdomen. “That means I’m empty. I’m devoid of life and love and . . . and you.”

He knew exactly what she meant. It was the same feeling he’d been trying to fill up with a series of extreme sport outings over the last couple of months, looking for something, anything, to spark a fire in him. Nothing had worked. He went to sleep with Leah on his mind, woke up with her there, and filled most of the hours in between thinking of her, wondering what she was doing, who she was with, if she ever thought of him. If she hated him.

He’d endlessly debated calling her, alternating between needing her and not wanting to hear anything in her voice that even remotely sounded like rejection.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Nina cried furiously, wedging herself partially between Michael and Leah, glaring at Leah. “What part of my boyfriend did you not understand?”

“So what are you saying?” Michael asked over Nina’s head, ignoring her, too.

“That I love you,” Leah said firmly, and Michael felt his heart expand tenfold. “I always have. And I can’t stop.”

“This is unbelievable!” Nina shrieked.

“I know the feeling,” Michael said, stepping around Nina. “I’m not shiny, either, Leah. I’m dull as a lump of lead without you.”

“See, people? This is what I mean when I say acting,” Ted announced to the growing group of onlookers, who had, apparently, walked down the lawn to hear the scene being played out. “You’ve got to put some ummph into it.”

“Are they acting?” Nina asked Ted in a little-girl voice. “Is this a scene?”

The kid pulled up with a white Thunderbird, and Leah looked at it, then at Michael.

“Dunno,” Ted said cheerfully. “If it’s not, it oughta be.”

“Leah, don’t go,” Michael said, and turned toward Nina. He regretted the audience, but he wasn’t letting Leah get away. “Nina . . .”

“Oh no,” she said, instantly stepping backward and colliding with Brad, who’d shown up to see what was going on. “You are not going to blow me off in front of all these people!” she hissed at him.

“I’m not blowing you off, sweetheart. But I want to take you home. We need to talk.”

“I’m not leaving here,” she cried, stepping back again, into Brad’s skinny chest. “You can go fuck yourself, Michael Raney!”

Michael looked at Brad. “Do me a favor, bro,” he said, digging into his pants pocket for the token that would get his car from the valet. “Make sure Nina gets home okay, will you?”

Brad lit up like a Christmas tree. “Dude! Are you serious?”

“I’m very serious.” He looked at Nina again. “Unless you want to come with me now, Nina.”

“Get away from me you bastard!”

Brad instantly put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “That’s okay, kid. Let him go. He is a bastard,” Brad said with a wink for Michael.

Michael heard the car door open and close and jerked around. Leah was inside her car, about to drive away. “Leah!” he shouted, and took two deep strides toward Nina, grabbed her face between his hands. “You deserve to hate me all my days for this, Nina. But then again, maybe someday you will do something totally outrageous for love, and you will understand.” He kissed her forehead and then ran for Leah’s car as she started to pull away from the curb.

When Leah saw his hand on the door, she stopped, watched with wide eyes as he vaulted himself inside. “Drive,” he said breathlessly.

“What—”

“Just drive,” he said again, and glanced back at Brad standing next to Nina, whose arms were flailing as she said something to Ted. And there was a host of other people around watching Nina, then Leah’s car as she put it in drive and sped away.

They drove in silence for the first few minutes, Leah winding through the streets like she knew where she was going. That was almost the worst thing he’d ever done, Michael decided. The only thing worse was leaving Leah five years ago. But he’d felt a moment of panic, that sick feeling he would never have the chance again if he didn’t seize it then and there.

They came upon a park entrance, and Leah screeched to a halt, threw her hands over her face, dropped her head against the steering wheel, and her shoulders began to shake.

The waterworks. Great. He’d made her cry the last two times he’d seen her. And he still wasn’t even sure what he was doing. But then Leah suddenly lifted her face and turned toward him.

Julia London's books