Page 94 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell (Rock Canyon, Idaho 7)

“Talk about what? How you made your brother look like an idiot? Or how the majority of the town are terrible people who treat you as if you don’t matter?”

Unable to hold his temper in check, he exploded, “It’s just a book! Just a stupid fucking book.”

Gracie stepped into him and shoved him. “It’s a portrayal of the way you see us. Using our lives in your column was one thing, but this, right here, it’s mean. And wrong. You’re not Taylor Swift, Eric. Nobody broke your heart or laughed at you. People like and respect you. And you stomped all over them. All over me.”

She turned away from him and pressed the elevator button. As she stepped inside, she said loud enough for the people crowding around the room to hear, “At least this part of your book is accurate. You don’t get the girl.”

The doors closed, and Eric stood staring, aware that everyone around him was whispering, but he didn’t care. He was too busy thinking that if he’d only told Gracie…

Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he went after her. Taking the stairs, he ran down them, determined to catch her.

For a split second, her dramatics had made him remorseful, but that was all they were. He’d written a damn good book, a funny book, and just because he’d gotten the inspiration for it from living his whole life in Rock Canyon did not mean that the book was about her or anyone else.

She just wanted an excuse to run.

* * *

Gracie dashed at the tears on her cheeks as she stormed out onto the street. She held up her hand, realizing she’d left her jacket upstairs as the bitter cold air hit her skin. Taxi after taxi drove by, and she stomped her foot angrily.

“Come on!”

The door opened behind her, and she turned to find Eric, sweating and breathing so hard, it looked as though he was blowing fire.

By the thunderous expression on his face, maybe he was.

“Was that fun for you? Humiliating me in front of a room full of strangers?” he asked.

She tilted her chin up to counteract the twinge of guilt. “You brought me to a party where you knew people were going to laugh at me behind my back.”

“No, I didn’t! I wanted to be near you. Is that so crazy?”

“Actually, it is when you think I am a ‘ditzy, arrogant litt—’”

“Will you stop quoting the fucking book?” he snarled. “God, it’s not you, okay? I wrote that book for a year! I finished it over six months ago and have been cleaning it up with Neal. It was a release for me, but it wasn’t about you, it was about me and the way I felt.” He ran his hands over his head, and she watched him, the anguish that twisted his face. “It’s all bullshit. I wrote the column as an outlet, a way to laugh about our lives and the things the people in town did, but the book was about me. It was about how I see myself. And yeah, I might have used all of you for inspiration—”

“Right, so none of those situations were about me?”

He stopped pacing and clenched his fists. “Fine. You drove me crazy, all right? For years, you would flirt with me, and I’d end up feeling two inches by the time I saw you hooking up with some new guy. Fuck, Gracie, I’ve been into you since you were barely legal, and you treated me like I was dirt. So, yeah, maybe it was a little bit about making me feel better, but it wasn’t to hurt you. I wrote the book for me, and when I got the idea to shop it, I decided to change all the names, the town name, even the damn column. I picked out a pen name, just so nobody would connect the dots.”

“Then why bring me here? Huh? If you thought you were covering your tracks so well, why even tell me about who you were?”

She waited for him to answer, her arms crossed over her chest like a shield.

His dark eyes met hers with so much pain, she almost buckled. Almost reached for him. “Because even though I kept telling myself to move on, I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to show you how good we could be together if you just stopped being so scared.”

Fury sizzled through her arms and legs, her palm itching to slap him. How dare he turn this around on her?

“No, no! You do not get to do that! I may have been a bitch in the past, and I have made a lot of mistakes, but you weren’t this innocent guy who kept handing me his heart and getting rejected. You were an ass! There were times you were so rude to me that I wanted to smack that smug look off your face. And you expected me to trust you after that? Well, guess what? I did trust you, and what do I get for it? Standing on a New York City sidewalk, screaming at you and crying because I feel like I’ve lost my best friend.”

She could feel her nose running, but she didn’t have any tissue. Her eyes were probably black with mascara tracks, but she was beyond caring. She had to get this out. Needed to.

“Over the last month, I’ve seen a side of you that empathizes, that can be there for other people because you’re just a good guy. I regretted hurting that man, the one who took care of me when I was sick and held me when I cried and who I thought…who I imagined more with. But after reading what you wrote, I have no idea who you are. Are you the asshole or the nice guy?”

He reached out to her, and she stepped back. “No. Not this time. You don’t get to make me cry and then make me feel better again. You called me, or I’m sorry, ‘Suzie,’ a cold woman who kept men at a distance.”

“It wasn’t you, it was just a character,” he growled, his frustration clear.

“The point is, I let my guard down with you, for the first time, and I should have known better.”

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