Page 127 of Double Bucked

Ransom—normally the one at the table to eat his weight and then some—seems distracted when the food shows up.

Everett stands. “I have to make a call. You two stay here.”

With that, he slips out of the booth, passing me. The bells above the door chime as he exits.

Ransom rubs his hand up his arm. His flannel bunches up, and he grips his bicep. Everett might be able to keep secrets from me, but Ransom can’t.

I nibble a fry. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

He folds his arms over his chest. He looks out the window, and he’s got this faraway look. “You ever get this feeling…like maybe you’re about to make a bad decision, but you know you’re gonna do it anyway?”

The invitation burns like hot coal in my pocket.

Tell him. It’s Ransom. He’ll understand.

But my throat closes around my good intentions. Instead, I say, “What bad decision are you brewing up this time?”

He sets his hat down on the seat beside him and rakes his fingers through his hair. I can tell he’s been sweating under his hat.

I like Ransom in all of his versions—dressed-up Ransom. Dressed-down Ransom. Working Ransom.

But dirty Ransom makes me feral.

“It’s more like a feeling,” he explains. “Like the way everything gets muggy and hot right before a big storm. This whole town feels upside down.”

I have to remember: I escaped Belleflower.

Ransom didn’t.

This place is as much a part of him as his beating heart. He devoted his entire life to this town and the people in it.

It has to be strange to look at the people you once trusted and know that, somewhere, there’s a killer lurking in the midst.

His eyes connect with mine again. “How’d the conversation with Arris go?”

My stomach goes tight. This is it. My in. My opportunity to tell him about the invite.

But I can’t stop the lies coming from my lips. “Fine.”

He squints at me. You idiot, Claire.

I can lie to anyone, but I can’t lie to Ransom.

He knows something is wrong.

Before he can ask, however, Everett returns to the table. He slides his trim body into my side of the booth. He leans over the table, picks up a knife, and cuts Ransom’s untouched burger in half. His shirt rides up, just enough to give me a glimpse of the bare skin at his waist.

Eyes to yourself, hungry girl.

He takes half of Ransom’s burger and takes a bite. Ransom, as if by some monkey-see, monkey-do instinct, starts eating his half.

They’re in sync. In a way they weren’t before today.

How bizarrely delightful.

“I put in a call to my team,” Everett says between bites.

“Wolfpack?” Ransom asks.

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