Page 6 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

I’ve given up on trying to make a perfect fucking impression on

everyone I come across.

With the keys already in the ignition, I take the truck down the gravel

road and accept the bumpy ride to the town I’ve been avoiding for far

too long. It hasn’t been fair to let my nineteen-year-old sister take my

credit card or spare cash to get us both groceries for the house or to

pay the occasional bill in town. I’ve hidden myself away from these

people for good reason, but I can’t avoid it now.

The streets are lined with uneven red bricks and chipping concrete

curbs. I pull up in front of the bank, already feeling both sides of the

sidewalk stall with lingering foot traffic. Taking my wallet from the

sun visor, my banking documents still stuffed into my back pocket, I

head inside in a hurry, aiming for the front bank doors until a

familiar voice crisps out behind me.

“Leah, is that really you?”

I shut my eyes, hoping to turn into a chameleon right here on the

sidewalk. Not that it’s very fair of me to think, but I’d give anything

to drop dead from a heart condition that seems to plague my father’s

half of the family. If it wanted to strike again, I suggest now, just to

get out of this skin-crawling conversation.

Then again, my luck has always been utter shit.

I turn to meet those seaweed eyes I used to look into as a

thoughtless, naïve teenager. Ryan Jones looks just like he did the day

he left my house. I thought it was a simple break, space needed so I

could heal from my father’s sudden passing. He took it literally, and I

lost him to the famed governor’s daughter who prances around town

like she’s a prima ballerina.

In reality, she was a bratty head cheerleader who couldn’t stand the

fact that she hadn’t conquered the whole football team by the time

she was twenty-six, so she had to come back for her revenge and sink

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