Page 76 of Slay Ride

Part of me is angry about this betrayal, but the other part of me is still worried about Maverick discovering Bennett under my bed. That side wins out. I can forget about the turmoil surrounding this pity date if he’ll just leave my room.

“You shouldn’t have gone along with it, you’re right about that,” I say, “but the reasoning behind it was sweet. If it helps you out, just tell Kindra that I said you and I make better friends than lovers.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Cat.”

I laugh because this is too funny. Ishouldbe hurt right now. Tears should be streaming from my eyes, and I shouldbe embarrassed that I chased this man who didn’t want to be caught. Now I’ve caught a man who didn’t want to be chased.

“I’ll be okay with time,” I tell Maverick through the most somber face I can muster. “Just go to your room and think about what you’ve done.”

He eyes me, and I don’t blame him. My blasé reaction isn’t quite right. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can still take you bow hunting, and I want to stay friends.”

Before I can answer, a horrible smell drifts toward us. The fetid stench of ass singes my nose hairs, and I’ll have to thank Bennett later for this perfectly timed fart.

“Look, the real reason I don’t want to go is because my stomach is . . . Well, you smell it.” I offer a sheepish smile and run my hand through the fart cloud that refuses to dissipate. If anything, the smell is stronger.

Maverick’s nose wrinkles, and I’m pretty sure I see him battle a gag. “That’s you? Are you sure we don’t need to call a doctor? Cat . . . it smells like you’re dying inside.”

“Yeah, I should probably use the bathroom.”

“Smells like you might have already done that,” he says as he goes to get off the bed on Bennett’s side.

“No!” I shout. “Come this way.”

I slide off the bed and hold my hand toward him as an audible fart rumbles the floorboards.

“Is your asshole into ventriloquism, because that sounded like it came from...” He gets off the bed, bends over, and peers underneath.

And just like that, my tryst with Bennett is no longer a secret.

Chapter Thirty-One

Bennett

The extra bacon at breakfast was a mistake. I can admit that now. The stress of hiding under the bed while my obsession’s obsession pulls her heartstrings didn’t exactly help matters.

“Bennett?” Maverick says, his eyes wide enough to give him the peripheral vision of Sid the Sloth. “Why the fuck are you under her bed? And why . . . ? Fuck, did you shit yourself?”

“No, asshole. That’s how men fart. I’m sorry it doesn’t smell like daisies and goddamn sunshine. Now pull me out from under here. My leg’s asleep.”

He turns to look at Cat, like he needs her permission to offer me any assistance. When she nods, he turns back to me with a puzzled look and reaches for my outstretched hand. Thank god the queen was feeling magnanimous today.

Once I’m out from beneath the bed, I flop back into my spot on top of it. Because itismy spot, and I’ll be damned if the pretty boy sits there ever again.

He looks between me and Cat, then licks his lips. “Would either of you like to explain what is happening right now? I mean”—he turns to Cat—“shouldn’t you be clawing his eyes out for sneaking into your room?”

“I didn’t sneak in. She left the door unlocked.”

“Bennett!” Cat squeals. “What the fuck?”

I shrug. “The cat’s out of the bag, sweetheart. Or should I say . . .kitten?”

Maverick wobbles on his feet. “I feel like I’m in an alternate dimension.”

Cat grips his hand and leads him to the bed to sit, and I want to beat Maverick’s face in for allowing her skin to touch his. I rein in my anger, though, and remind myself that I’m about to solidify her as mine.

“We’re fucking,” I say.

With a groan, Cat covers her reddening face.

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