Page 2 of The Very Naughty List

It’s not hard to see that she’s fishing for details—any information about me that she can use as fodder for the town gossips, I’m sure. Before I can say anything in response to her, the woman beside her chimes in too.

“Oh my gosh, I almost forgot about that wedding!” Her overly saturated, gushing voice tells me that she definitely didn’t. These women have probably concocted a dozen different versions of what happened that day. “I don’t think we ever heard the full story about why you called off that wedding with the handsome Montgomery man. Was it cold feet? Cold feet can definitely destroy a good thing if you let it.”

“No, it wasn’t cold?—”

“Jesus, Myrtle, leave the poor girl alone,” my mom’s salon friend interrupts before I can even get a word out. “I’m sure that she’s embarrassed enough as it is.”

My jaw clenches. I would love to tell them all about how I caught Dylan with his dick out right behind their holy place of worship, but it’s not worth it. Besides, I don’t want to rehash all of this. I just want to buy my toiletries and leave.

“Well, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Myrtle continues as she ignores her friend’s remark. “We all make mistakes sometimes. Was it a mistake, Hailey? Do you regret not marrying Dylan Montgomery now?”

I wish I could evaporate into the Montana air that’s wafting through the intermittently open door as more people from town that I used to know stream in and gather around to hear the conversation about my called-off wedding.

“I’m sorry, but I really do need to get going,” I say evasively. “I’ve had a long drive, and I haven’t even unpacked my car yet.”

“Oh yes, of course! We aren’t trying to pry at all or keep you from getting settled in. It’s just that you left in such a hurry the last time that everyone here just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Sure they do.

More like everyone here just wants to know my business. If I don’t cut them off and divert the topic, then I’ll literally be standing here all night watching Gus slowly put each of my items into a bag at a snail’s pace.

“I’m fine.” I smile again. “How areyouthree doing?”

Instantly, the three ladies start filling me in on every little thing that’s happened in the past two years. It’s enough of a distraction that I can get Gus to ring me up and hand me my bag without any further discussion of my “would-be wedding.”

“Thanks, Gus. See you around.”

I grab my stuff and leave, my exit barely even noticed by the trio of women who have now moved on to talking about how the Christmas tree tent has been set up too close to the road for comfortable parking. I make a beeline for my car, hoping to make it to my family’s diner before I get stopped and interrogated by anyone else tonight.

But in my rush to get back to my car, I’m not watching where I’m going and wind up crashing right into a man who’s coming around the corner of the building.

“Oh shit,” a deep voice says as I reel backward a step. “Sorry!”

My heart drops, my body suddenly freezing as if the ice on the sidewalk has flowed up through the soles of my feet and rooted me in place.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

My stomach twists as I look up to see Dylan Montgomery, my cheating ex-fiancé, standing right there in front of me. His ears must be burning.

“Hailey? Wow, I didn’t even know you were in town! What a surprise!” Dylan reaches out to hug me, and I can’t help but recoil by taking another step backward. At least my feet are working enough to do that much.

This is the man that betrayed my trust and left my heart scarred and battered. It’s because of him that my wedding turned into a disastrous spectacle and that I now find it tough to let anyone into my life at all.

I started dating Dylan right after high school, and I was absolutely convinced that he was “the one.” Everyone thought we were the perfect couple—between his catalog model good looks and my reputation for being a “small-town sweetheart.”

Little did they know that he’s a cheater, and I’m not a pushover.

Dylan broke my heart, destroyed my relationship with my best friend, and crumbled my expectations for a fairytale future.

I was hoping I wouldn’t run into him for a while, certainly not on the very first day that I pull into town. I’d been hoping to be prepared instead of getting caught off-guard.

“How are you?” he asks, giving up on trying to hug me after noting my instinctual reaction. “How have things been going in the city for you? Have you released an album or anything yet?”

He’s smiling at me with that same pretentious smile that people often mistake as charming, and making small-talk conversation that serves as a polite, superficial gesture at best. But I don’t want to answer him. I don’t want to tell him that all my big plans for LA haven’t worked out, and that I was working a shitty, menial job instead of becoming a singer the way I hoped to be by now.

Usually, I’m fast enough on my feet to come up with a clever response or comeback at the drop of a hat. But Dylan caught me by surprise, and my words stumble over themselves as I eye my car in the distance.

Fuck. Why did I have to park three spots over?

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