Page 58 of Tell Me Something True

“No,” she said, the one word ground out from between her gritted teeth.

“Why not?”

Her mouth went flat. Her lips sealed shut.

“Why. Not.”

“My brother bought it. But it’s not even in my name.”

“But you get to drive it? Whenever you want?”

“Not whenever I want. I had it taken away from me for two weeks after that night you helped me get it out of the ditch.”

As if that was some form of extreme and painful punishment.

Christ, but she really was a princess.

“You pay for the insurance on it?” he asked. “Repairs? Maintenance?”

“I don’t see wha—”

“You foot the bill for your cellphone? Pitch in for your family’s groceries? Are you getting loans to go to college?”

She crossed her arms again. “No.”

“No to which?”She sent him a look that said she wanted to skewer his balls on a stick and roast them over an open flame.

While they were still attached to him.

“No to all,” she muttered.

“Paying for an extra hour or two of a rental wouldn’t be a big deal to you because you wouldn’t be the one paying for it. But to her?” He jerked his head in Tabitha’s direction. “To someone whose car is over twelve years old and, from the sound of it when she pulled in, needs new brake pads; to someone who can fit everything they own into the back of a rental van; to someone who’s renting a second-floor apartment in a house that needs painted, a new porch, a new roof and Christ knows what else? It’s a hell of a big deal.”

Something in Verity’s eyes shifted, something that looked a hell of a lot like guilt. But then she lifted her chin, pulling her shoulders back, ready to battle to the bitter end.

“If it turns out she is who she says she is, and if she really is supposed to move in upstairs, and if she ends up owing extra for the rental because of this delay, I’ll cover it. With my own money.”

She was stubborn.

And even more entitled than he’d realized.

He edged closer, noting how her eyes widened slightly. How her breath stuttered out of her parted lips. Even now, when he was calling her on her bullshit, when she was so pissed at him that she was vibrating with anger, when the differences between them were slapping him upside the head, the pull between them was still there.

And so strong, he knew if he touched her, if he gave in, even once, those differences wouldn’t matter.

“Stop being such a fucking spoiled brat,” he said soft, but no less brutal, “and get the goddamn key.”

Her head jerked back, hard and fast, and she made a sound, a low whimper, like he’d just punched her in the stomach.

Like he’d hurt her.

Again.

Face bright red, eyes suspiciously bright, she whirled around, ran inside and slammed the door shut.

Shoving his hands into his front pockets he glared at the door, wanting to pound on the wood and demand she open it.

If only so he could make sure she was okay.

---