Page 84 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

point—I can hear him downstairs, rummaging and meandering

through the morning hours like last night was nothing. As if it wasn’t

the most embarrassing time in my life.

Making out with Percy Elrod was odd enough, but being upset when

he rejected the premise of us being together sexually… that’s almost

shameful. He was right, and I can admit that to myself. But not to his

face downstairs while we have to skip through town like we’re some

happy couple.

Still, I slip on my clothes for the day and throw on a light jacket to

work in the shop, which is prone to a cold breeze, and finally drag

myself downstairs. Percy is in the kitchen, wearing a tee shirt and

some jeans while picking through the kitchen and making breakfast.

My stomach betrays me, growling obnoxiously at the smell of

pancakes, and he turns at that signal.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, grinning charmingly.

His beard is scruffy but shorter this morning, nearly cut down to his

pale skin. It has a reddish tint in the morning light, the sun

shadowing his sharp cheekbones and crisp, pursed lips.

“Hi,” is all I can reply.

He sets down a mug of coffee, leaning forward on the kitchen island

where his arms extend with lean muscles that bulge against the

tattoos on his skin. I am taken with the sight of him, more than I

thought imaginable, but it’s too damn daunting for me to just look

away from.

He’s so beautiful.

“Can we talk about last night?”

“There’s nothing to say.” I turn on my heels and make a beeline to

the coffee pot. No sooner am I there, he’s leaning against the

countertop, pinning me in the corner of the kitchen where my ass

pushes to the cabinets, and my body goes stiff while he pressures

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