Page 10 of Perfect Pact

“Don’t even,” I warn.

“Don’t what?”

There is one thing I’ve learned: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

“Come on, Beth. Throw me a bone. Why so hostile?”

I must have really pissed off the universe at some point in my life for all the shit I’ve had to deal with.

Today being no exception.

Guys like Dusty rub me the wrong way. Maybe it’s their cockiness…or maybe it’s confidence—I’m not really sure. Either way, been there and did that with my ex. I have no desire to relive that again.

“Listen, Dusty. I’m sure you’re a really great guy, but you stole my tart.”

“Aw—” His hands fly to his chest. “I stole your heart?”

“Deep breaths,” I mumble to myself, beginning to count. This man can’t take a hint. “Ten, nine, eight…”

Dusty’s laugh rumbles throughout the room, interrupting my personal meditation session.

“Seriously?” My eyes fly open.

Dusty rocks back and forth in his chair like a damn toddler, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.

“It’s what I heard.”

“Let me speak clearer.” I lean across the table, making sure to pronounce every single syllable. “Raspberry. Lemon. Tart.” I pat my chest. “You don’t get this. No one does. I pad-locked that bitch and threw away the key a long time ago. Do you understand?”

Instead of responding, he bites his bottom lip, watching my every movement.

“Yeah.” I circle my figure in front of his face. “That right there—your charm. Yourobnoxiousattempt at charm,” I correct myself. “It won’t work on me. Nothing does.”

“You think I’m charming?” A victory smile spreads across his smug face.

“That’s what you got from this conversation?” I want to smack my head on the table but refrain. I certainly can’t afford a trip to urgent care.

He’s supposed to get up and walk out, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, listening to me get worked up over a tart. But it’s more than the tart. I sacrificed so much to buy that damn tart, and just like that, it’s stolen from me. I’m sick and tired of it.

“Is this supposed to scare me away?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” I point to him, falling back in my chair. “We have a winner!”

“Well, that sucks.”

“Why is that?”

“Because.” Dusty pushes away from the table and stands, never taking his eyes off me as he makes his way over to where I’m sitting.

“Because why?” I try to turn around and end up playing right into his hand. He grips my chair on either side, holding me prisoner.

“Because—” Dusty leans down, and the same panty-melting voice from earlier whispers in my ear, “—it did exactly the opposite.” The hunger in his eyes is contagious. My gaze drops to his lips, wondering if he’d taste raspberries and lemon. A knowing grin spreads across his face, and I try to keep my eyes from going wide.

Oh shit!

This little game we’re playing just went into overtime.

“That took longer than I thought,” Mr. Wright booms from the doorway as he enters. I twist away from Dusty’s grasp and busy myself with picking lint off my jeans. The other two men from earlier follow. “I had a little sisterly tiff I had to breakup.”

---