Page 134 of Tell Me Something True

He just hadn’t realized getting what he wanted would suck this much.

Before he could give her some smartass response, her phone buzzed. She jerked and looked down at it, like she’d forgotten she was holding it.

She checked the screen, her gaze darting to him. The slight unease in her eyes, the tinge of guilt in her pink cheeks, had him stepping closer when he should have been walking away.

He looked down at her phone, not giving a fuck if she knew he was trying to see who was calling her. To see if it was that asshole Frat Boy who’d hit on her at the ice cream place. The same guy who’d tried to get her into the backseat of his car at the lake.

Seemed she had no fucks left to give, either, because she tipped her head to the side and slowly, deliberately turned her phone so he could read the name on the screen.

Patrick Henderson.

Not Frat Boy.

Someone else.

Reed’s breath locked in his throat. His shoulders went rigid.

Who. The fuck. Was. Patrick Henderson?

It kept buzzing and he realized he didn’t have to do or say anything.

She was more than capable of walking away all on her own.

“You should get that,” he said quietly. Testing her. Daring her.

Pushing her away after all.

Still looking at him, she swiped the answer button. A moment later, a smiling blonde guy wearing a backwards baseball hat appeared. He was maybe a couple years older than Reed and Verity, but Reed didn’t recognize him from school. Or anywhere else in Mount Laurel.

Any hope Reed had that the guy was a long-lost brother to go along with the five she already had—hell, he’d even take a first cousin—died when the guy’s grin widened. “Hey, babe.”

Babe.

Reed flinched. Fucking hope.

Never did him any good.

“Hi,” Verity said to the guy, her tone light. Happy. As if she was fucking thrilled to be standing in the middle of a parking lot, the sun beating down on her, turning her nose and cheeks pink, while some ass-wipe grinned at her.

But her smile was forced.

And she kept glancing at Reed.

“Sorry I didn’t pick up before,” she continued. “I was at the clinic.”

“No problem.” The asshole’s voice was deep and had a twang, like he was some fucking cowboy or something, and he spoke slowly, like he had all the time in the world to stare at Verity Jennings through the phone. He whistled, low and long. “Damn, girl. You look real pretty today. As always. I’m digging the braids.”

Reed snorted. Knew by the asshole’s husky tone that he was thinking about wrapping those braids around his hands.

Just like Reed had imagined.

But Verity shot him a hurt look, like she was so innocent she couldn’t even consider that the guy might be thinking dirty thoughts about her and those sweet looking braids.

Like Reed had been making fun of her.

Like he didn’t think she was pretty.

His stomach turned and he shoved his hands back into his pockets. Better that than grab her and tell her she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. That he dreamt of her. That he wanted her.

---