Read Never Let You Go for Free Online Page A

this year,” he replied laconically. “So I know about plants. Not animals, though.”
    “We’re almost ready to start, everyone,” Sarah called across the lawn, wiping her hands on her jeans.
    Megan headed toward the table with relief. It was obvious Robert could not be less interested in her, and she had no desireto prolong this torture. He wanted Anna, of course. Like always.
    “Can you guys help move the table into the shade— carefully ?” Sarah asked. The table was now loaded with platters of corn on the cob, carrots in some kind of cream sauce, green beans, a basket of rolls, cut-up watermelon, and bowls of vanilla and chocolate pudding. Megan’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. She hadn’t had anything to eat since her tuna sandwich on the bus.
    “Megan?” Sarah went on. “Can you bring out the platter of chicken in the kitchen?”
    “Sure.” She nodded, glad for something to do.
    The kitchen seemed dim after the outdoors, and Megan paused inside, letting her eyes adjust. It was a big, square room, with wooden cabinets lining every wall and old-fashioned wall-paper printed with butter churns and brooms. She glimpsed a living room through a doorway at the other end. The sink was filled with watermelon rinds and carrot peelings. In the center of the room, a long, dark wood table was wiped clean except for a dish heaped with fried chicken.
    Megan leaned over and hefted the warm, heavy platter. The chicken was piled high, the top pieces balanced precariously. As she walked toward the door, her hip caught the high edge of the counter, rapping the bone sharply. She gasped, and the platter clattered to the floor. Chicken flew everywhere, skittering under the table and into the dusty corners of the room.
    “Shit!” Megan whispered. Through the open window, she could hear laughter and conversation out on the lawn.
    Megan dropped to her knees and picked up the platter just asshe heard a toilet flush, then the sound of running water. A door opened at the other end of the room, and a tall guy with reddish blond hair and a two-day beard emerged. He stopped short in front of her, and Megan looked up from her kneeling position on the floor. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then the guy said, “You know, I like my chicken with a little extra dust flavor.” He bent down and picked up a drumstick.
    Megan knew her face was scarlet. She scrabbled around, piling pieces of chicken onto the plate. “I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she mumbled. She could barely look the guy in the eye. She felt so stupid crouching there on the floor like a kid caught stealing cookies.
    “Hey, don’t worry about it,” the guy said easily. He hunkered down on his heels and helped assemble the chicken. His hands were wide and bronzed from the sun. Little golden hairs sprinkled his forearms. Megan snuck a look at his face from under her eyelashes. He had to be Jordan. “I dropped an entire pitcher of sangria at my parents’ twentieth anniversary party. I don’t know why they were letting a ten-year-old serve the booze. There was red wine all over my mom’s carpet.” He held up the platter. “There. Not a dust bunny in sight.”
    Megan looked around. They’d gotten every piece. She sat back on her heels with relief. This guy was really nice. “Thanks so much.” They both got to their feet. Megan paused, accepting the platter from Jordan. “Do you think it’s . . . ethical to serve this?” She wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of her mouth. Ethical? But Jordan didn’t laugh, thoughthe skin around his blue eyes crinkled at the edges as he looked down at her.
    “Definitely not,” he said seriously. “But I won’t tell if you won’t.”
    Megan laughed, and his face relaxed into a grin.
    “Jordan, by the way.”
    “Megan, by the way.” It was impossible not to smile back.
    “Here, maybe you should let me take that out.” He stepped forward to take the plate from her hands, and Megan caught a