Things Liars Say (#ThreeLittleLies #1)(22)

I ignore her blissful sigh and clear my throat.

“I told you, I came here for a coffee.”

Her hazel eyes zero in on my green tea lemonade, and she arches a perfect eyebrow.

“Fine, sexy barista, if you really must know, I don’t drink coffee.”

Greyson’s eyes soften around the edges as she watches me fiddle with my straw. “Your bruises are fading,” she remarks.

“Yeah, I know. It sucks, too. No one messes with me when I have double shiners.”

Grey sits up and reaches across the table, wiggling her fingers in my direction. “Let me have your arm.”

I lay a tan arm on the table. She rolls her eyes.

“Not that one. Your other arm.”

Biting back a grin, I rest my tatted arm on the tabletop and sit back, watching as she leans forward, intently studying the sleeve on my right arm.

A dozen intricate, bright designs are interwoven on my skin, and she memorizes every single one. I can see the interest in her eyes, the questions. But unlike other girls, she doesn’t ask. Her fingers curiously roam over the American eagle tattooed in honor of my grandfather’s many years of military service that eventually took his life, the lotus flower tattooed in honor of my mother’s winning battle with cancer, and the Celtic cross in honor of my Scottish heritage.

I sit, ramrod straight, learning every expression as it crosses her face.

She glances up at me then, her finger continuing to trail along the sensitive skin on my arm, and there’s a fire in her eyes that damn near takes my breath away.

No way is she looking at me like that.





Greyson





We sit for twenty minutes before Becca comes to get me, talking and teasing and flirting. Well, I flirted; he complained about it.

“Let me walk you out,” I say, stalling for more time with him.

I start untying the green apron strings around my waist, but Cal stops me.

“Leave the apron. It’s cute.”

I preen with pleasure as he pushes through the glass door of the coffee shop and holds it open for me, giving me an opportunity to train my eyes on that gloriously tattooed bicep beneath his shirtsleeve as I pass in front of him.

His red truck is parked out front, but instead of walking to it, I lead him to a partition under the overhang, conveniently located in the shadows of the strip mall.

I lean against the brick wall, facing him, and cut to the chase. “Tell me the real reason you’re here.”

He moves into the dark recesses of the building, propping a hand against the partition next to my face, the dim lighting hardening the angles of his face, slashing it in half by shadows. A band of light cuts across his eyes, and they burn bright blue. “I told you. I wanted a study break.”

“Okay…”

His face might be cloaked in darkness, but even so, I can tell his eyes are dancing. “Okay what?”

I wish he’d cut the crap. “So, you’re here because you were thirsty. And what else?”

He’s quiet, watchful, when a dark SUV pulls up with tinted windows. For a few seconds, as it idles, his stance hardens and he moves to stand in front of me protectively. He relaxes when the engine cuts off and a young couple steps down, heading towards the coffee shop.

Finally, in a low murmur, his voice resonates close to my ear in a husky drawl. “You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” I agree quietly with a shiver. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Cal groans miserably.

“Why won’t you just admit you drove all the way here to see me?” I ask gently.

“If you already know the answer, why are you trying to make me say it?”

“Because I’m a girl, and that’s what we do.” My head tips back against the brick wall, and I watch him from under my long lashes. “Hurry up and spit it out. I have coffee to brew.”

Minutes on the clock tick by.

“You’re a brat.”

I push off the building and straighten to my full height as I start towards the door, throwing in a theatrical eye roll to illustrate just how over this conversation I am. “I’m going inside. Thanks for stopping by.”

I know he’s not going to let me go, and two seconds later I’m proven right when my back is pressed flat up against the cold, brick wall.

Greyson 1: Cal 0

Smugly, I let him struggle for the words I crave from him, but this time I don’t goad him into talking, even though I know Becca is going to be pissed when I walk back inside after leaving her alone behind the counter for so long.

“You’re right.” His deep voice whispers next to my ear, and I get chills when he braces those sexy, muscular arms on either side of my face, his breath caressing my cheek. “I drove an hour to see you, and I would have driven three.”

God, that is so sexy and romantic.

“Say that again.”

He pauses before his palms slide down my shoulders, and his large hands span my waist. “I drove an hour to see you,” he repeats, his full lips grazing the soft spot behind my ear. “And I would have driven three.”

Oh yeah.

My head tilts to the side, my eyes flutter shut, and I almost forget to breath. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”