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Remington Honeysuckle Ford. Remi Honey to family. Trouble to him. Hell.
Remington Ford had never once in her entire life been fine. She’d been wonderful. She’d been devastated. She’d been on top of the world. She’d been shattered. But never something as flat or normal as fine.
“At least you’re consistently irritating,” she said lightly. “Some things never change.” He let out a growl of frustration. “Back at you, baby.” He felt her soften at his words. Felt her melt just a little bit against him.
“It was never about the truck. He wasn’t careful with you.”
She’d painted their song before. She’d remembered dancing with him.
“Remington Honeysuckle Ford. She looks like trouble to me.” “Oh, just get to know her. You’ll love her, Brick,” his grandmother predicted. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.