Page 1 of Dirty Dillon

Chapter One

Cressida Hamilton

Well, this blows.

I step off the bus in my hometown of Tempest and just about cry. Which is fine. It’s not like I haven’t already sweated off my mascara anyway.

This is so not supposed to be my life. I should be partying with my sorority sisters, not stuck in this hick town with nothing to do and no one to do it with. My father didn’t even send a car for me.

Just a freaking bus ticket. I’ve never even beenona bus before today.

True fact: I’m never getting on another one.

There is not a playlist in the world that could anesthetize me to the horrors I experienced on that thing.

I’m sticky and hot and would kill for a margarita. Or seven.

My father is not here to pick me up either. I can’t exactly walk home with all these suitcases. He’s mad. I get it. But this is a bit of an overreaction.

I get my stuff from the sidewalk and gather it around me when I see Chad, my older brother, and my father’s personality clone. Fanfuckingtastic. God, Chad is such an asshole. I’m sure he’s thrilled that I got expelled from college.

“Hey, Cressida,” Chad drawls with a smug grin. “How’s life treating you?”

“Couldn’t be any better. Sunshine and roses and whiskers on kittens, as usual,” I snap back.

“Heard about your entire sorority getting expelled. A real shame.” Chad smirks and grabs my suitcases, throwing them into the back of a truck.

Chad gets a new truck. I gets a bus ticket.

To be fair, Chad manages to keep his scandals on the downlow. Our father never hears about all of Chad’s little disgraces. Of which there are many.

Minemade the evening news.

“We’re appealing the expulsion. I’ll be back in school in no time.”

“Sure you will,” Chad says, his tone laced with condescension.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Get in the damn truck, will you? I have better things to do than hang out here all day,” he barks impatiently.

I reluctantly climb into the passenger seat. “Why do you think I won’t be going back to school?”

Chad pulls out and we turn onto Main Street. The bookstore reopened. And there’s a new chocolate shop next to it. There seem to be more people on the sidewalk than usual. I wouldn’t use the word bustling, but there is definitely more activity downtown than on my last visit. My father must be turning things around in Tempest.

The place was becoming a real ghost town, and since he’s been the mayor as long as I can remember, it wasn’t a good look for him.

Not that it seemed to bother him that much. Somehow men like my father, and Chad, seem to think they’re pretty hot shit, no matter what the evidence around them says.

“Chad, answer me,” I remind him.

“Dad has a lot on his plate. He’s done dealing with your bullshit. If you want to go back to school, you’re going to have to find someone else to pay for it,” Chad says.

No way.

My father has never been the doting dad he pretends to be in public, but I can’t imagine he won’t finish paying for my college education. If nothing else, he doesn’t want me underfoot in Tempest any more than I want to be here.

The rest of the drive back to the mayor’s mansion, also known as home sweet home, is silent and tense. As we pull up to the house, I can’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with resentment. It actually used to be a pretty good place to live. Now it feels like a prison. I haven’t had a fond memory of home in a long time.

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