Page 127 of Tell Me Something True

That stumped him.

She’d give herself a big ol’ pat on the back, but she was too busy trying to figure out why he was acting weird. Standing out here, like he’d been waiting for her. Asking her to get something to eat. Talking to her still even after she’d told him no.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t smirked or sneered at her once today.

Must be saving them up for a big finale.

“If you had known,” she asked slowly, “would that have stopped you from bringing Titus in? Because that would’ve been stupid. Dr. McNabb is the best vet in the county. Maybe the state.”

Then again, Verity may be just a little bit biased.

She had a huge crush on Dr. McNabb.

Which only proved her taste in crushes didn’t always suck.

Not that she could be blamed for certain feelings that popped up when she was around Reed. She’d seen him shirtless that night at his house, his hair damp from the shower, so she knew, exactly, what was under the gray fabric of that tight shirt he wore.

Ridges upon ridges for abs. Toned chest and shoulders. A scorpion tattoo above his right hipbone, the word Strength scrolled above his heart to go along with the rose tat on his right forearm and the full-sleeve tribal tat on his left arm—the intricate, swooping, swirling black design probably symbolizing his personal motto of fuck off.

He was beautiful in all his long, golden-haired, tattooed, muscly glory.

Especially with those coveralls tied at his waist, his sleeveless shirt molded to his chest, his strong jaw, slightly crooked nose, and light blue eyes.

The boy was too pretty for his own good.

And hers.

“Even if I’d known you were here,” he said, “I still would have brought Titus in.”

Did that mean he still would have brought Titus into the clinic despite knowing Verity was there? Or that he would’ve brought him in because Verity was there?

She bit her lower lip so she wouldn’t ask.

Reed cleared his throat. Shifted, his gaze darting to her mouth, then at a point over her shoulder. He opened his mouth. Shut it.

Wow. Turned out there was more to the whole stoic, silent thing guys like him pulled. More than keeping people guessing and at a safe distance.

It was a power move.

She might never speak again.

It was a nice thought, but delusional. She had things to say. Plenty. And staring at him while they stood in their own little cone of silence, waiting for him to decide his next move in whatever messed up game he was playing, was torture.

Tor. Ture.

“I thought you watched the kid during the day.”

“By the kid,” she said, “am I to assume you’re referring to my nephew? Whose name you know very well is Ian?”

“Yeah. Him.”

She rolled her eyes. “And now you’re just not using his name on purpose.”

He lifted one well-defined shoulder, and she couldn’t help but track the movement. But then, it seemed her eyes had a mind of their own because they kept right on tracking other things. The ends of his hair lifting in the light breeze. The flexing of his forearms as he curled his fingers into his palms. The way his throat worked as he swallowed.

The slight lift of the right corner of his mouth as he caught her checking him out.

“I still watch Ian during the week,” she told him, unable to follow through on that whole silent thing. “Just as I still work at Binge most evenings. And now, thanks to my brother, I volunteer at the clinic on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings.”

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