Intertwine Read Online Free PDF

escapee from the circus, ending in a dizzy heap three stories below.
    “Don’t you usually make fun of people who drive flashy cars?” Marc chuckled. “Let’s savor the irony of this moment, shall we?”
    “Even all of my luggage survived.” Emme shook her head at the wonder of it, watching rain hammer against the window. “My traveling disasters never turn out like this. Finn seriously saved me.”
    “Well, tell Fabio ‘thank you’ for me. I’ll enjoy driving that BMW when I come visit you after filming this latest martial arts project in Hong Kong. By the way, how’s the internet at your place?” asked Marc. “Football season will be in full swing in September, and I’m going to have to stream all the Broncos games from my DVR.” Marc hadn’t held onto much of their growing up years in Denver, except for the city’s beloved football team.
    “Ugh! You and your Broncos! And you think my Fabio/Finn thing is annoying.”
    “Whatever. At least my obsessions are socially acceptable.”
    The rain slanted against the back windows of the room, making a grating rat-a-tat sound.
    “Fine,” said Emme. “You can watch your Bronco games while you’re here as long as you promise to still go to the Jane Austen Festival in Bath. It’s been what? Five years since we’ve been? I brought your outfit, breeches and all.”
    “Oh, please,” Marc said, his voice pained, “it’s embarrassing how much you geek out on that. I’m not sure my manhood is up to dressing in fancy clothes and prancing around like Mr. Darcy. My self-respect does have boundaries.”
    Emme rolled her eyes. “I think Mr. Darcy would take serious offense over being told that he pranced.”
    “Any grown man who wears a satin vest thingy—”
    “Waistcoat.”
    “—and wraps his neck in a long strip of fabric—”
    “A neckcloth.”
    “—and drinks tea with his pinky elevated can most certainly be said to prance. I think it’s actually something they used to teach, . . . prancing.” There was a smirk in his voice.
    “For the record, you wouldn’t have to be Mr. Darcy. He would bore me to tears in about five minutes. I mean, take away all his money and what are you left with? An uptight, socially awkward guy who can’t relate to people.”
    “You know, somewhere a Jane Austen angel just lost her wings over you saying that.” Marc’s good-natured laugh was buttery warm. “I really think that people have been lynched for less.”
    “Now you’re imagining an angry mob of bespectacled ladies brandishing pitchforks and battered copies of Pride and Prejudice chasing me through the streets of Bath.”
    “Perhaps,” Marc chuckled. “And given your bad travel luck, I wouldn’t rule it out. Though I could choreograph a crazy fight scene to protect you. It would definitely require some ninjas.”
    Emme laughed. “I think you’ve read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies one too many times.”
    “Hey, gotta stay up on all the classics.”
    Suddenly, a large bolt of lightning flashed. Thunder cracked loudly and then boomed, rattling the house. The low noise reverberated, pounding against Emme’s sternum.
    “What was that?” Marc exclaimed.
    “A bad storm. And it’s Beltane today—that’s gotta be bad luck.”
    “Beltane?”
    “It’s like Halloween,” explained Emme, “only on the opposite side of the calendar, in the spring instead of the fall. They’re exactly six months apart, actually.”
    “Sounds like something Jasmine made up. Listen, I gotta go, but you need to promise me one thing—”
    “What?”
    “No catastrophes this summer.” And then, whether because of the storm or Marc’s underdeveloped attention span, the phone call dropped.
    A crash outside reminded Emme she was in the middle of the closest thing she’d known to a tornado—not a comforting thought given her history. She pulled the blankets tighter around her.
    Tonight the cottage seemed oppressive and breathless. Nothing like how it’d felt a week