Page 72 of Keeper
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He squeezed my hand and smiled. “I like you, Ainsley.”
We stared at each other.
“I like you, too,” I said.
The moment seemed to call for something more, butclearlywe couldn’t kiss or hug or show any affection. Not with Marta pacing around angrily, waiting for me.
“Okay,” I whispered, “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I climbed out of Tanner’s car. Marta stormed over to me, her palm held out. “Car keys?”
I handed over her car keys. “Listen, Marta, I can explain.”
“Explain?” She tilted her head at me as if she were genuinely perplexed. “Explain what? There’s nothing to explain.”
Okay, she’s acting like everything’s cool, but it’s obviously not.
“Come on, let’s go home.” She stamped over to her car and unlocked it. “Get in. I’ll drive.”
Before I got in her car, I glanced at Tanner. He rolled down his window and raised an inquisitive brow:everything okay?
I mimicked a phone held to my ear and mouthed:I’ll call you.
His engine fired with a growl, and I climbed into Marta’s car.
***
Marta backed out of the parking spot and drove away. She turned the radio off, cranking the awkward silence up to a deafening max.
“Look, Marta,” I began, “I know you’re mad. And if I were you, I’d be mad, too.”
“Mad? You think I’mmad?”
“Cut it out. You’re creeping me out,” I said. “I know you saw us together. But like I said, I can explain.”
“Ohhhh,I get it.” She wagged her finger at me as if she’d suddenly made a life-changing revelation. “You think I’m mad because you stole the guy I was telling you about all weekend—right? Is that what you want to explain?”
“What I want to explain,” I said, ignoring the barbed remark, “is that Tanner is the guy I met at the club the other night.”
“Cool!” she cheered sarcastically. “So your big excuse is that you didn’t backstab metoday,in fact, you originally backstabbed me two days ago?”
“Ididn’tbackstab you, period. I didn’t know anything about him—I didn’t know he was a hockey player, and I didn’t know he was the guy you were doing a photo shoot with, either. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have done anything with him.”
She took her eyes off the road to glare at me. “Bullshit.”
“I swear, Marta. I really didn’t know anything about him.”
“Then when did you find out?”
“The second he stepped out of his car today.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“Itried,but you were too excited to meet him, and I felt horrible! Don’t you remember how sick I looked?”
“Poor you,” she said. “I’m glad to see you’reobviouslyfeeling much better now, though.” She chortled at her own joke. “So I’m supposed to believe that you met Tanner Vaughn at the club, hit it off with him well enough that you were willing to get in his car and go homewith him, and yet he never told you he was a pro athlete? I’m supposed to believe that in all that time you two spent together, you didn’t realize he was the same exact guy I was telling you about?”
