Stolen Read Online Free PDF Page B

even if Lock had looked her way, Bree doubted it would have made a difference. Not where birth numbers were concerned. She was pretty certain Lock was infertile. Cate had two kids, but neither looked like Lock, and Maggie and Ness had been lying with him for the last year without consequence.
    If Bree wasn’t going to become a mother anytime soon, and there were other hunters and fishermen to replace her, maybe Keeva really would cast her to sea. Just to make a point. To prove that she could. The woman was ruthless. She’d cut Conner’s right pinky off when he swiped more than his fair share of dinner once. The boy had been ten. Bree thought it too harsh, but as Lock pointed out, his friend never stole again.
    Bree heard grass swish beneath her and readied the slingshot in her hands.
    It was only Lock.
    He strode to the edge of the lake and dropped his gear, tore off his shirt. Bree watched for a moment, and then, terrified he’d keep ditching layers, coughed lightly.
    He nearly tripped in surprise.
    “What the heck are you doing?” he asked. “You know Keeva’s furious with you? You should have been fishing this morning.”
    “Same goes for you.”
    “I was fishing. It’s noon now, you idiot. Besides, I deserve to cool off.” He kicked off his pants, and waded in. The water crept up his legs, over his knees, to the hem of his shorts, before he finally dove. “You coming in?” he asked when he resurfaced.
    “I’m busy.” Even as Bree said it, the thought of slipping into the lake was tempting. It was rarely cooler than the ocean, but it was always more refreshing—smooth and silky. Bree liked that it didn’t leave her hair crusted with salt.
    Lock swam until he was beneath the branch Bree was camped out in, where he then focused his efforts on attempting to splash her, even though she was well out of reach.
    “You’re scaring off the game,” she snapped.
    “What game?”
    “None, now that you’re here making such a racket.”
    He flashed a smile. Those damn dimples.
    Screw it. She was sweating, and cramped, and the heron, if it was coming, wasn’t going to show up while Lock was thrashing in the water. Bree stripped down to her tank-top and underwear, and threw the clothes and extra gear onto the grass. Then she stood and edged out along the branch, hands on the limb above for balance.
    “You jump from there and you’ll hit bottom, Bree,” Lock teased. “Jam your knees on the rocks and shatter your shins.”
    “Really? Is that why you and Maggie jumped from here last week?”
    His face washed over blank.
    “Yeah, I saw you,” she said. “I know how you like to bring your girls to the lake.”
    And it was true. She had seen them jump when she was checking snares. She’d been surprised the water was still deep enough, given the lack of rain, and had stayed long enough to make sure they didn’t hurt themselves, then bolted for town. What followed the swim was not something she’d wanted to witness.
    “ My girls?” Lock said from the water. “It’s not like I own them.”
    And right then, Bree knew he was never going to look at her the way she wanted him to. The fact that he couldn’t see it—the way he treated those girls and the way he treated her, like they were different species . . . It hurt so much it was like Bree had drowned years ago and was only just feeling the effects of running out of oxygen.
    She leaped from the branch. Her feet hit the water, and she was swallowed whole. The lake was warm, but still refreshing, a relief after being in the tree all morning. When she resurfaced, Lock was there to dunk her.
    “What was that for?” she gasped.
    “For spying on me and Maggie.”
    “I left before things got exciting.” Then, because she knew it would annoy him, she glanced at his shorts through the water and added, “Not that there was much to see.”
    “Oh, you are going to regret saying that!”
    He lunged at her, but she was already fleeing. Bree laughed as she swam