Page 4 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

guarded. The last thing I need is for you to call me to bring you home

after getting pregnant by some guy with an earring.”

“I quite like guys with earrings,” she taunts.

Rolling my eyes, I grab my keys and wallet, along with the banking

information that’s been piled up within the heaps of incoming mail I

have yet to go through. My eyes catch a letter with a daunting red

stripe over the seal. While Ainsley escapes upstairs, I wait until she’s

out of sight and grab the letter.

Cutting it open with my rough, calloused fingertips, I pull the letter

loose from its home. I can already tell this is a bill from hell,

something about the large final notice label on the top of the note, a

clear indicator that I’ve officially fucked up.

I take the letter onto the porch and shut the door behind me, just for

added protection from Ainsley hearing or seeing my dismay over this

concerning letter.

“Dear owner of Reese Classic Automotives, your lien on the property

has been extended far past the due date. If payment isn’t prompt

within two months, or sixty-two days even, we will have the legal

rights to the business and the home on the property. It’s within your

better interest to pay promptly, rather than lose…”

My voice trails off, my body going numb and frozen, even if the fall

time in Rally is rather warm. I sink back into the porch swing and

hiss a breath at the note, unsure what to do. The number at the top of

the bill seems almost impossibly long.

It seems even longer now that I’ve just promised my baby sister nine

thousand dollars for her future. I can’t tell her to forget about it. Her

little heart would break even more than the first time she saw her

dream fleeting. I fold the note up in my back pocket and brush my

hands over my face. I can’t be sure if there’s still grease and oil on my

arms from working in the shop yesterday, but it doesn’t matter now.

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