Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(63)

I check the time on my phone and feel my leg start to bounce when I see how late it’s gotten. I’ve been antsy knowing I’ll be driving back to the airport and seeing the girl whose picture I saved to my phone the second it came through.

Because Skylar looked fucking heartbreaking. She always does, but it’s never as obvious. If she showed up to our party like that, goddamn glowing, there would’ve been a line of men waiting to ask for her name and offer her drinks and then some. And the thought pisses me off.

Glancing at the picture in question, I bite back a groan and exit out of the photos app before pulling up our messages.

Me: If u HAD to choose between killing baby Ted Bundy and baby Jeffrey Dahmer who would u pick?





I’m reading the same three sentences in my notes trying to drill them into my head—rather pointlessly—when I get a response.

Blondie: What kind of question is that?

Blondie: Nvm I forgot who I’m talking to for a second

Blondie: Bundy has more kills than Dahmer so I’d have to kill baby Bundy





Her answer makes me chuckle, knowing she more than likely didn’t have to Google that information. She made me watch a fucked-up documentary on infamous serial killers not that long ago, so now I know way more than I ever thought I ever would about the subject.

Me: When are you supposed to land?

Blondie: 5:15

Me: Want dinner?

Blondie: Should I be concerned that you’re asking about dinner in the same conversation you mentioned Jeffrey Dahmer?

Me: I eat people in a very different way, Blondie. I can demonstrate if you want





As soon as the message sends, I freeze up and rub my forehead. “Aw shit.”

Caleb stops highlighting something. “Is Grandma M okay?”

“Uhh…” I stare at the message is marked DELIVERED and then changed to READ with no bubbles appearing below. “Yeah. She just lost some sort of poker game.”

“Your grandma plays poker?” Marks muses.

Caleb frowns. “Since when?”

I just shrug, going with the lie. She does play cards, but bridge is more her thing. Guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she played poker too and probably kicked everyone’s asses as it. Once, she came home with a thousand bucks from a game she wouldn’t disclose, and Ma scolded her for it knowing she could have lost that amount and then some.

Finally, my phone buzzes.

Blondie: Not sure what to say to that





I sink into my seat.

Me: I’m messing with u. Sorry





Bubbles appear.

Disappear.

Appear.

I cuss.

Me: Flirting is second nature to me. If it makes u uncomfortable tell me to fuck off





Those bubbles disappear again.

For a minute.

Two.

Three.

Blondie: You don’t want to flirt with me then?





That’s not the answer I’m expecting.

Me: Do u WANT me to?





The tension in my shoulders must be visible because Raine asks, “Is your grandma okay, DJ?”

Almost forgetting the lie, I reply, “Yeah, she’s good. Lost some money, is all. No big.”

They don’t push me on it as I stare at my screen, focused only on one woman.

Blondie: Would it be weird if I said I didn’t mind if you did?





My lips start to curl upward, but I force them to stay neutral knowing there are people probably watching

Me: I don’t always know where I stand with u so I try keeping it lowkey





Me and lowkey usually aren’t in the same sentence, but I never want Skylar to feel uncomfortable around me.

Blondie: If it makes you feel better, I don’t always know either

Blondie: But I meant what I said about wanting a redo





How could I forget? It’s been one the forefront of my mind every time I close my eyes. The shit I woke up to in my head this morning led to a very long cold shower and some suspicious looks from more than just Caleb when I finally emerged from the bathroom.

Me: We’ll have to discuss that over dinner. The diner or Bea’s?





One is more casual than the other, so I hope she picks the diner. What I want with her isn’t a casual thing.

Blondie: Birdseye





I grin.

Me: It’s a date





I don’t let myself wonder if I shouldn’t have called it that before flicking off my phone’s screen and setting it down.

“What are you smiling at?” Marks asks, trying to look at my phone. I face it down on the table and shove his chair back with my foot, nearly making him topple over. “Christ, Bridges! We have enough crippled players on the team.”

Brady glares.

I snort.

And Caleb stares at me wondering what it is I’m trying to hide.

All I do is shoot him a wink.



She’s barely looked me in the eye since I grabbed her bag at the airport and set it in the truck. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before she snapped out of whatever thought she was having and climbed in once I opened the door for her.