Page 84 of The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood)

I blinked, utterly confused. “Uh, okay.”

His gaze sharpened like he was examining me for clues to my identity. “Sarah? No, wait. Kristin?” He tossed up a hand like he was giving up. “Give me a hint.”

“It’s Felicity,” I said dryly.

“No shit, really?” His expression was dubious. “You don’t look like a Felicity to me.”

His comment was light and playful, but it made me uneasy because he’d hit a little too close to the mark. “Don’t know what to say to that, Tony.”

As I stood beside the bar, I studied him the same way he’d done to me. He looked like he was in his late twenties, and was cute enough, but there was a hint of pushiness that set my teeth on edge. I got the same vibe from him that I had gotten from Mason at that house party my freshman year, the one I’d foolishly ignored.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

Because I was out of my element, my brain was slow and didn’t understand why he was asking. “It was a spiked lemonade.”

“You want another?” He turned and attempted to flag down the bartender.

“Wait—” I started.

A hand was abruptly on the small of my back and a shadow fell over me, drawing my attention up. Preston’s gaze wasn’t on me, it was fixed on Tony, and his smile was tight.

“Thanks, man,” his tone straddled the line between being friendly and firm, “but if my girlfriend wants another drink, I’ll get it for her.”

TWENTY-TWO

Preston

Calling Sydney my girlfriend hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. Since I was touching her, I felt the surprise rocket through her body, she didn’t say a damn thing to correct me.

The guy who’d been hitting on her took one look at me, and disappointment flashed through his expression. “Oh, sorry.” He peered at Sydney and barely hid his annoyance. Like he felt she’d somehow led him on. “I thought you were here on your own.”

“She’s not.” I forced casualness into my voice, because while I didn’t like it, I couldn’t fault him for trying. He’d recognized how hot she was. But she was mine. “Come on, Sydney. It’s your turn.”

The guy was offended. “You said your name was Felicity.”

It took everything in me not to smile, but it was easier when I saw the worry in her eyes at being caught in the lie.

“It is,” I told him quickly. “Sydney’s just my nickname for her.”

I used my hand to guide her away from the bar and back to the stall with our drinks and the game we were playing.

The one where I was losing again.

It was hot inside the bar, and I could feel the thin sheen of sweat on my face. Throwing the axes hadn’t helped, and neither did the two pints of beer I’d had, but when I’d seen Sydney get flagged over by the guy, I’d started to sweat for real.

My first thought was he knew her, but her body language quickly told me otherwise. She’d looked uncomfortable, and without a second thought, I’d come running. Part of me knew she didn’t need my help shutting him down. She’d done two years of college, so of course she’d been hit on before. And while she was shy at times, she wasn’t weak. Sydney didn’t need me to rescue her.

But, fuck, I wanted to.

She didn’t say a word when I picked up my beer and drank the last few swallows, but her intense gaze drilled into me, impatiently waiting for me to acknowledge what I’d said. It had just slipped out, and the most surprising thing to me . . . was it felt good to put it out there.

Like coming clean.

“Yeah.” I set my empty glass down. “So, you’re my girlfriend.” I held her gaze, challenging her to look away. “It’s not a big deal.”

She didn’t blink, but her chest rose with a deep breath as she considered it. “You’re right.” The smile that broke out on her face was downright victorious. “It’s not.”

I blinked my sleepy eyes, annoyed that I’d woken up because I’d been in a deep sleep, and I could tell by the soft light coming through my bedroom window that it was way too fucking early.

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