Page 6 of Calling the Shots

“It’s cool, very classic. Love the baby blue color, too.” She lifts her foot to climb into the truck, struggling with the height and the tiny, pointy heel of her shoe.

Being a gentleman—and itching to touch her again—I slide in behind her. Gripping her at the waist to steady her, I guide her up and into the truck. I’m close enough to hear the hitch of her breath, her lips parting slightly. I grab the seatbelt and lean over, careful to avoid brushing any part of my arm against her voluptuous breasts.

“The seatbelt’s a little tricky.” I click the belt into place, winking, then pull back into my own space.

“Thanks.” Her voice comes out a husky whisper as I close the door behind her.

Hustling around to the driver’s side, I climb into the cab and crank the ignition, the floorboards rumbling with the effort. “This truck was my grandpa’s. My mom hates that I still drive it.”

“Why?” Gracelyn glances over at me, her smooth brow wrinkled in confusion.

“She claims it’s about the lack of safety features. Plus the toxic emissions and saving the environment, blah, blah, blah. But it’s really about status. She likes foreign cars. The more expensive, the better.”

“Oh.” Gracelyn’s pink lips form a perfect ‘O’ and I flash back to our kiss in the bar, wishing we were doing that again instead of jawing about my mother.

“Anyway—” I lean back against the broken-in leather seat, my arm resting on the metal sill of the window. “What’s the deal with Jamie? How’d she get to be enemy of the state?”

Gracelyn shakes her head, furrowing her brow.

“I told you. She’s an asshole. Always has been.”

“I’m gonna need examples.” I flick on my blinker and head in the direction of the high school.

“For starters, she tripped me on the bus in front of my crush. I fell and busted my knee. Bled all the way home.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Then the next year, she spread a rumor that I had a pet chicken.”

I can’t hold back my chuckle at this. “A chicken? So what? Who cares that you had a chicken?”

“I know, it’s dumb. But I didn’t even have a chicken!” She throws her hands into the air. “Sloane told me to brush it off, but do you know how hard that was? Every time I walked into the cafeteria, someone would start clucking and crowing at me.”

“The horror,” I tease, sneaking at glance at her. She’s cute, all animated as she drops her face into her palms and groans.

“I know, right? Especially rough on chicken nugget day.”

I snicker. “Brutal.”

“Junior prom? That bitch wore the same exact dress as me. Like, how?” She almost smacks me in the face as she gestures wildly.

“Did you get your dress here in town? There aren’t a ton of shopping options.”

“No. That’s the crazy part. Sloane and I went over to the mall in Lightning Ridge to avoid that very scenario. Jamie had to stalk me to buy the same dress. Then the yearbook did a Who Wore it Better spread and guess who won?”

She smashes her mouth together in a thin, tight line.

“Guessing it wasn’t you.”

“Correct. Apparently, she’s a model now. Told everyone she was in Europe all last year. How can I compete with that?”

I stop at the red light, fingers thrumming on the steering wheel. “I’d say you’re winning.”

“Shut up!” She punches me lightly on the biceps and shakes her head. “Get outta town! You’re biased because I made a move on you. Or you need glasses. Because as much as I despise Jamie freaking Ware, I still freely admit that she’s attractive.”

I sneak a quick glance over at her. Moonlight bathes her face in a soft, white glow and I can’t remember the last time someone pretty as her sat in my passenger seat.

“She’s alright. Not really my type.”

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