Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(97)

A sickening nausea strikes and I grow dizzy. Does Mark believe      I feel the same way as my parents?

Dad rams the chair into the table, then stalks away. “Mark made      his choice. You wanted to talk to Ryan tonight—talk to him. I’ll be in my      office.”

Mom stands. “He should hear it from you.”

In the door frame, he pauses and looks back at me. “I’ll be      running for my party’s nomination for mayor in the spring. Your mother and I      don’t want you dating Beth Risk. Be her friend at school, but we can’t risk the      bad publicity if she’s trouble. Do you understand?”

My mind races to process. Dad’s running for mayor. Mom wants      Mark back in the house. I’ve let down my brother. They both want me to dump      Beth. “You said that you never wanted to be mayor.”

But Mom has wanted him to. Her dad was mayor. Her grandfather      was mayor. It’s a tradition she’s always craved to continue.

Neither Mom nor Dad will look at me or at each other, and      neither appears to want to discuss his nomination. “About Beth...” I say.

Dad cuts me off. “The girl is off-limits.”

“You should date Gwen again,” Mom says. “Her father is going to      back your father.”

The seat jerks under me when I stand and my sudden movement      causes Mom to flinch. I stare at them both, waiting for one of them to make      sense of anything they’ve said. When they remain silent, I finally understand      why Mark left.





Chapter 48

Beth

I DON’T OWN A       JACKET. Never have. I always told Isaiah and Noah my body temperature      runs hot when actually it runs low. In Kentucky, autumn weather can be a bitch.      Hot in the afternoons. Cold at night. This morning, the slick dew covering      Ryan’s pasture permeates past my worn shoes to my socks. Few things suck more      than cold, wet feet.

I stop in my tracks. Losing my best friend sucks. I let      myself feel the ache, then continue forward. One day Isaiah will realize that      we’re just friends. One day he’ll find me—even if I’m at the ocean. Friendships      like ours are too strong to die.

Today is parent–teacher conferences and I can’t think of a      better way to spend a day free from school than with Ryan. Actually, I can’t      think of a better way to spend any day. My time with Ryan is dwindling and I      want to make the most of every moment with him.

Thump. I first heard that sound when I came out of the      woods. Every few seconds, the sound repeats. Thump. Instead of heading straight      for Ryan’s house, I decided to follow the thumps and I’m glad I did when I see      beautiful, glistening, sun-kissed skin. Wearing only a pair of nylon athletic      pants, Ryan winds back then hurls a ball toward a painted target on a piece of      plywood. Thump. The ball hits square in the middle.

“And you wonder why people think jocks are stupid,” I say.      Ryan whirls around with wide eyes and I continue, “It’s fifty degrees outside      and you aren’t wearing a shirt.”

A cold breeze blows through the open pasture, causing goose      bumps to prick my arms. Okay, possibly not the smartest opening line since      rubbing my arms would be the definition of both hypocrisy and irony.

Ryan grabs his shirt off the ground and walks over to me.      The early morning rays highlight the curves of the muscles in his abdomen. My      heart flutters like a bird shaking water from its wings. God, he’s gorgeous.      Sexy. A vision. Too perfect for someone like me.

“I’m cooling down,” Ryan says. Caught up in staring at his      body, I have to pause to remember what I last said. Ryan gives me a cocky smile      and to my mortification, I blush. What is with me and all this blushing?

Ryan caresses my burning cheeks, and my heart trembles      again.

“I love it when you do that,” he says.

Pull it together,       Beth. This is not why you’re here. Ryan has dealt with enough of my      crap over the past two months and for some reason he insists on looking at me      like I’m the princess to his prince. He is a prince. I’m not a princess, but I      can help with his happily-ever-after before I leave his life for good.

Ryan withdraws his hand, but remains annoyingly close—with      his shirt still off.

“Don’t you ever get tired of baseball?” I ask.