Riders on the Storm by Robin Hill

Author:Robin Hill [Hill, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 45318196
Publisher: That Formatting Lady
Published: 2019-04-25T23:00:00+00:00

I stop pacing long enough to glance at the clock for the seventeenth time in as many minutes. Then I check my phone. “She’s late. Maybe she hit traffic or something.”

“On a Sunday night? Doubtful.” Darian looks at his watch and frowns. “She still has fifteen minutes.”

A fog of Mediterranean spices infuses the kitchen making my anxious stomach rumble. I pull out a barstool and take a seat at the island. A heavy sigh gusts out of me as I prop my elbows on the granite and rest my chin on my folded hands. “I feel like I should be doing something. Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Darian turns from the stove with a spoon full of orange-colored rice perched between his fingers. “Here, try this,” he says, handing it across the island to me.

Garlic and cumin explode on my tongue and my head tips back. “Arroz…”

“Arroz con pollo,” he says, smiling. “Gotta roll your r’s.” He takes the spoon from me and drops it in the sink. “Evelyn’s going to love you.”

“I wish I weren’t so nervous.” Hopping off the barstool, I catch my reflection in the patio doors and study my lavender sundress, smoothing my hand over its nonexistent wrinkles. “Maybe I should change into jeans. I feel stupid wearing a sundress at night.”

It isn’t even warm out.

“You look beautiful,” Darian says, coming up behind me. He takes my left hand and smooths his thumb over the surface of my ring. “As long as you’re wearing this, I don’t care what else you have on.” He spins me around to face him, pulling me into the hard expanse of his chest. His free hand snakes around my waist, and suddenly we’re swaying in the kitchen, dancing to the low hum of Snow Patrol drifting in from the family room. “But changing again isn’t going to help, is it?”

“Probably not.” Considering this is outfit number three…

“I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.” He gives me a playful wink. “I bought Patrón.”

The doorbell rings and my body tenses. “And where would that be exactly?”

Darian laughs. “I’ll get it as soon as I get the door.”

He disappears down the hall, and I busy myself looking for glasses until Evelyn’s boisterous voice reaches me from the foyer.

“Well, it’s wonderful, dear,” I hear her say. “I’m so proud of you.”

I close the cabinet and turn toward the door, working my hands over a new set of imaginary wrinkles on my dress. Evelyn comes around the corner and I straighten, squaring my shoulders. “Hello,” I offer timidly.

Her answering smile engulfs her small, heart-shaped face. “Hello.”

She’s petite in stature with a dainty nose and narrow lips. Her silver hair, pushed back by a pair of turquoise frames, swings an inch below her jaw in a bob. And her eyes…

“Evelyn March,” Darian says, “I’d love for you to meet my beautiful fiancée, Francesca Valentine.”

They’re Anabel’s eyes. The same eyes that used to haunt my dreams.

“Frankie, please.” I step forward, extending my right hand.

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