Black Heart (Cursed Hearts #1)(17)

Marty sighed heavily. “I was just doing your mother a favor. Don’t worry, I won’t do it again.” She turned and started to leave only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Beth and Tom pull to a stop in front of the house in Tom’s truck. Tom rolled down the window so that Beth could lean over and yell.

“I’m sorry, Marty. I have to make a run to the college to collect some….things. You know how much Tom hates for me to go there at night alone so he’s going to take me and then we’re going out for a while. We’d thought it would be fun. Oh, and Denny is leaving, too.”

Marty opened her mouth to ask for a ride into town, but was cut off by Beth. “Also, I just spoke with Hank. Your Dad isn’t going to be home until well after three in the morning. I’m not sure when we’re going to be home, probably really late.” She looked past Marty to Tristan.

“Sweetie, you don’t mind if Marty hangs out with you, do you?” Before Tristan could respond, his mother smiled brightly and continued. “Actually, since we’re all going to be out so late you might want to make up a room for her and let her stay with you. I know you wouldn’t turn the poor thing out and make her wait on her father’s front step all night.” If possible, she smiled even wider. “Great, I’m glad that’s all taken care of. Love you!” she yelled as she sat back and effectively ended the conversation, not that there had been much of one.

Tom closed the window while he mouthed what Marty and Tristan thought was “Sorry.” They stood there shocked while his parents drove away. Denny was close behind them in his SUV. He paused only long enough to shake with uncontrollable laughter and confirm their suspicions that they’d just been screwed over.

Marty pressed her palms against her eyes. “This cannot be happening.”

“What the hell was all that about?” Tristan asked as his eyes dropped to Marty’s, in his opinion, perfectly rounded ass. He managed to look up, appearing innocent by the time Marty turned around.

“I have a bad feeling that your mother,” she paused, swallowing hard, “is playing matchmaker.”

Tristan cursed as Shayne burst out laughing. “Oh, it took her long enough, didn’t it? I swear she’s the last one to notice.” He looked at Marty. “Well, maybe not the last.”

“Stop it,” Tristan snapped.

Marty looked startled. “I’m..I’ll…You know what? I’m sure if I put my mind to it I can figure out how to pick a lock.” She gestured to the basket. “Bon appetite and have a nice life,” she said, turning back around and walking away.

“Wait!” Tristan found himself saying, surprising the hell out of himself. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was…I was…just bitching about my wound. It’s itching like crazy.”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a slight frown. “Oh.”

He stepped back away from the door and gestured for her to enter. “Come on in. I’ll give you the tour and show you where you can sleep.”

She rocked back on her heels as she considered it. “I don’t want to intrude, Tristan. I know how much you like to be alone.”

He scowled at that. “What do you mean?”

She just shook her head and shrugged as she said, “Nothing.”

“Are you coming in or not?” he snapped out of irritation, because for the first time in years he had no idea how to handle her.

She smiled sweetly at him. “When you put it that way, how can a girl resist? Oh, wait, probably like this,” she said, brightly, sending him a withering glare as she continued on to her father’s house.

“Yer ma’s gonna kick yer ass for this one, lad,” Shayne said as Tristan threw one last look of longing in Marty’s direction before he reluctantly closed the door.

Frustrated, Tristan rammed a hand through his hair. “I could care less,” he ground out as he took the basket into the kitchen and angrily put the food away. Any appetite he’d had was gone with having to watch her walk away, taking another chunk of his heart with her.

*-*-*-*

“What an ass**le,” Marty muttered to herself as she carefully climbed up the trellis located next to her bedroom window. For the first time in years she was happy about the blinding security lights her father attached to the house since they made it possible to see what she was doing, as long as she squinted that is. Progress was slowed considerably as she was forced to constantly stop to detangle her clothes from thorns and splinters. Sadly, she was only five feet from the ground when the sky opened up and poured down on her.

Within seconds she was completely drenched and the trellis turned into a slippery challenge. She used her arm to push away the wet hair out of her face as she cursed Tristan under her breath. The jerk. Like she really wanted to spend the night alone with him. Puhlease. She wouldn’t go somewhere that she wasn’t wanted and he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

In a matter of minutes she managed to climb to her window. She carefully twined her left arm in the trellis so that she could reach out with her other hand and try to open her window.

“Almost…almost…,” she mumbled to herself. A few seconds later, she discovered, unhappily, that her window was locked. Grumbling several words that would make even her father blush, she climbed down the slippery trellis. Halfway down her grip slipped. She fell the three feet to the ground, somehow landing on her backside in the wrecked flower garden, which now mostly consisted of watery mud.