Page 29 of The Boy I Hate

“Isit?”

“Yes,” she said, hating how the tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “And you should really put some clothes on. The people of Utah don’t want tosee…that.”

He chuckled, but shifted slightly behind her. “Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but a lot of people want toseethat.”

She cringed, because she knew it was true. Like in high school, she knew women lined up to catch the barest glimpse ofTristan.

He moved quietly behind her, his steps so soft you’d never know they came from a man of his size. “You can turnaroundnow.”

She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, taking the very corner and chewing it before turning to face him. He still had no shirt on, his feet were bare, but he wore a pair of old gray sweats resting so low on his hips you could tell he wasn’t wearing anythingunderneath.

“Aren’t you freezing?” she asked, feeling a shiver run through herownbody.

“No,” he said, leaning against the doorway and crossing his feet at the ankles. A tiny grin teased at the corner of his mouth, and she knew he was having too much fun at herexpense.

She turned toward the Mustang, not attempting to hide her irritation. “I brought you breakfast,” she saidquickly.

“That’s niceofyou.”

“It’s not nice. Just my way of getting your lazy ass outofbed.”

He threw his head back with laughter. “Are you always this pleasant in themorning?”

Pressing her lips together, she wasn’t about to let him pull her into another argument. “We need to go,” she said, turning on her heels and opening the door toherroom.

She walked inside, hoping the action would give him the hint to do the same. “I’ll have your breakfast waiting for you in the car.” But before she closed the door, she could swear she caught himsmiling.

“My God.” she whispered, resting her forehead against the wall, taking in all the air she’d forgotten to take over the last two minutes. “Three more days. Just three more days of Tristan Montgomery.” She repeated the last words over and over, gathered up the rest of her belongings, and headed forthecar.

12

ChapterTwelve

Presentday

Samantha threwher oversized pillow to the back of the Mustang, as visions of Tristan standing in the doorway still clouded her mind. It had been over ten minutes, but she could still see each detail of his perfect body. She remembered all of it—his abs, his arms. Though they were larger now, and a scar ran across his right shoulder that hadn’t been there before. For some reason that fact bothered her. She wasn’t sure exactly why—maybe because she wasn’t sure how he got it, but it left her with a weird feeling inhergut.

She’d spent most of her adolescence with the Montgomerys, which meant she also spent a lot of time with Tristan, whose life goal was to see how many hours he could spend of it shirtless. She’d become accustomed quickly, or as quickly one could with a half-naked Adonis lounging around by the pool—but a three-inch long scar was something she was sure she wouldn’t havemissed.

Climbing into the front seat of the Mustang, she told herself it shouldn’t matter—but for some reason it did. What had happened? Was that why he’d left Texas U? Mostly, she wondered why Renee had nevermentionedit.

She shook her head and lounged back in her seat, knowing she was telling herself lies. She knew the reason… Because she was an asshole, that’s why. An asshole friend who’d kissed her best friend’s brother, then never wanted to hear about him again. Whenever Renee would bring him up, Samantha would quickly turn the subject to something else. Renee was smart and caught on quickly—and stopped bringing him upaltogether.

Feeling a little bit shitty, Samantha leaned forward once again and set Tristan’s now cold coffee in the center console. The fact she’d been so shaken by him frustrated her. Yes, he was beautiful man, and yes, he had been naked right there in front of her. But she was a twenty-three year old woman. And an erect penis was something she’d seen at least a thousand times… But this was Tristan. And for some reason, the sight of him made her feel like she was sixteen all overagain.

She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to shed the memory from her thoughts and move on. This was natural, right? It was biological. Not a reaction to Tristan himself, but rather a man-woman sort of thing. She set the bagel on the dashboard, found her freshly charged iPod at the bottom of her bag, and began loading up her next audiobook. But when she looked up, she couldn’t help but notice the stark black arrow pointing directly to the red E on the gas gauge. They were outofgas.

“Great. Just great.” She pulled in a calming breath, grabbed the balled up molding clay from the bottom of her purse, and began needing it with her fingers. She kept it around for moments like this. When her blood was heated, and she needed a way to calm down. The smooth, hard texture immediately eased her mind, and she glanced across the street to look for a gas station. They were already behind schedule, and now they had yet another delay. Yes, it was only to get gas, but Goddammit, they were never going to get out of Utah. Then right on cue, Tristan appeared on the balcony. He was dressed simply, wearing weathered jeans, a plain t-shirt with a hoodie over the top—but now she knew what lay underneath, and for some reason that changed everything. It sent a wave of guilt through her chest, and left her with an overwhelming urge to callSteven.

Her fingers began to kneed more quickly and she suddenly felt guilty—because she shouldn’t be obsessing over a man like Tristan when she had Steven waiting for herathome.

But as Tristan came down the steps, she couldn’t look away. He was rugged, and big, and he looked both dangerous and inviting at thesametime.

He threw his backpack over his shoulder, took one step and stretched his arms overhead—which only added to her bad mood. Because he seemed calm, collected, rested, as if he had all the time in theworld.

And looked just as sexy with clothes on as he did naked.Goddammit!

He walked down the rest of the way, his white t-shirt showing off how remarkably tan his skin was, and flung his backpack to the back seat with her pillow. The roughened up leather bag landing directly onto of the soft white cotton pillowcase, where the vast contrast in materials made her shiver. It was a much needed reminder of how different they were. About how right she was to walk away all those years ago. He was rough and ready Tristan Montgomery. She was Samantha Smiles, the girl who needed to pull her shit together and stop daydreaming!

---