Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Praise for Fight or Flight
- Praise for New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young
- ALSO BY SAMANTHA YOUNG
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Readers Guide
- Excerpt from FIGHT OR FLIGHT
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Argh!” I cried out in fright and turned to find Penny standing on the sidewalk, as if she’d appeared out of thin air.
Her lips twitched. “Sorry, pet, didn’t mean to scare you.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not you. It’s . . . been an interesting morning.”
“Oh, aye, I heard about that from Milly. Saved Roane’s dog, did you?”
I frowned, glancing behind me and back to Penny. How could she have heard from Milly, who was in the opposite direction, and then appear at my back as if from nowhere? Had Milly called Penny immediately to tell her what had happened? Obviously.
Village life. News traveled fast.
She chuckled as if she sensed my bemusement, and gestured toward the store. “Open her up then. Let me show you the ropes.”
It was as I unlocked the door that I suddenly felt the stinging in my left palm and on my knees. Looking down, my jeans were covered in dust from the fall, and the left kneecap looked a little threadbare too. I must have hissed because Penny queried, “You all right, pet?”
“I’m fine. Probably have a skinned knee or two from the fall.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the flat. Would you like me to get it?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’m fine, thanks.”
She nodded, accepting this. “Okay, let’s get to work then.”
But before we could, there was a loud rap on the door, and we turned to see a man peering in at us. “You open, Penny?”
She frowned and hurried to open the door, letting the man in. He had graying dark hair and startling pale blue eyes, and he wore a brown lightweight coat with a white apron underneath it. “Did you leave the store?” Penny asked, sounding surprised.
“Young Matthew’s watching it.” The man threw me a flustered nod. I put him around the same age as Penny and wondered at their connection. Turning to her, he said, “Lella dropped the bomb on me this morning that she’s supposed to read Twelfth Night by tomorrow for homework. I’m really hoping you have a copy.”
“You’re in luck.” Penny hurried toward the shelves to the one marked poetry and scoured it for a few seconds before pulling out a thin paperback.
The man seemed to sag in relief. “You’re a star, Pen. How much?”
“Take it.” Penny held it out to him. “My next steak and ale pie is free.”
He grinned, the smile transforming his glowering expression. With those unusual eyes of his, he was quite handsome. As if sensing my attention, he nodded to me. “New owner?”
Penny sighed and threw me a small smile. “New renter.” Seeing his eyebrows draw together, she shrugged. “I’ll explain later.”
“Right. Well, I best get back. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome, Jed. Remember that pie.”