The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(23)

Was that even true?

And what about the rumor he had a pack-a-day habit? She’d seen zero evidence of cigarettes anywhere, not even a whiff on his clothes. He played baseball, and was supposedly really good. Why would an athlete risk his body like that? Oh, sure, she knew tons of dancers who smoked, but that was because they were starving themselves for a part. She didn’t know any athletes who did—and she knew most of the football and track teams, thanks to Cameron.

There were also rumors about shoplifting, graffiti, and general hooliganism, but where was the evidence?

Who was Kyle Sawyer?

She tapped a finger against her lips. Violet worked in the school office during third period. Could she look up his record, see if he’d ever been suspended? Because he disappeared once or twice a year, and everyone suspected he was doing in-school suspension. What if it that wasn’t true? What if he’d been sick or gone on a vacation? None of this was making sense.

Flopping down on her bed, she fished her phone from her pocket to text Vi and ask, then sat up again fast. Sweet Mother of Unicorns, there were eighteen—eighteen—texts on her phone.

Fifteen of them were from girls at school, all along the lines of, “You’ll never guess what I heard!” and “Is it true? Seriously?”

There were two messages from Violet: Girl! It’s out—I don’t know how he did it, but I’m hearing from everyone.

V: You’re officially Kyle’s new girl-of-the-week! It’s all over the senior class.

The last text was from Cameron: You hold me off for months, now you’re hooking up with that *? I was only with Holly because you hurt me. You don’t have to throw it in my face like this.

A grim smile spread across her face. Maybe being toyed with was worth it after all.





Chapter Seventeen


Kyle


Kyle went after the flower bed like he had a personal vendetta against it. The Texas clay was hard after being half frozen all winter, and it really didn’t want to break up. Good thing, because he needed an outlet, and this saved his knuckles from punching the wall. Coach would have a fit if he broke his fingers two weeks before their next game.

Idiot. Dumbass. Coward. Those three words pounded his brain in a relentless circle. Idiot. Dumbass. Coward. He never should’ve agreed to this plan with Faith. He had too much to lose. And now? Now he was in danger of letting her in. He couldn’t do that.

He wanted to.

Idiot.

God, how he wanted to.

Dumbass.

But he was too scared.

Coward.

Kyle slammed his spade into the flower bed and rubbed a grubby hand over his face. What was he going to do? His lies were piled so high, they were going to topple over any minute, and he wasn’t sure he could stop them. After carefully creating his persona, he was in danger of destroying it. Worse, this plan called for something he wasn’t. Faith wanted a guy with experience.

What if she found out he had exactly zero?

“Kyle!” The screen door banged open and Faith flew down the steps. She skidded to a halt five feet away and started laughing. “Um, if I weren’t such a nice person, I’d snap a picture of you right now.”

“Why?” he asked, tired. Even if his lies made his bones ache, her smile sparked all kinds of impossible dreams. Maybe…

“Because your face is covered in dirt. It’s…” She reached out a hand like she was going to wipe it away, then drew it back, blushing. “It’s adorable, actually.”

A grin slowly tugged its way across his face, despite his best efforts to stop it. “I must look like a mess.”

“Yes, but according to the eighteen texts I just read, you’re my mess,” she said triumphantly. “How did you do it? How did you make them believe we’re…uh…we’re…”

Her face turned bright pink, and his confidence returned. “Having crazy sex?”

“Yeah, that.” She stared at the azaleas planted in a neat line near the fence. “Those are beautiful.”

“They’ll look better once they root. So you’re okay? Now that it’s out?”

“I am. Cameron is pissed.” They shared matching, hard smiles. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Say something, moron! Ask her out. Don’t let this go to waste.

Weird how his thoughts were rooting him on in Grandpa’s voice. But he was right—for once he needed to get over his fear of letting someone in and make a move.

He swallowed against the tide of nerves boiling in his stomach. “I think that calls for a celebration, though, don’t you?”

She cocked her head, and he couldn’t keep from staring at her long, smooth neck. “What do you have in mind?”

This was it. Don’t screw this up. “It’s a surprise. Tomorrow night? Eight o’clock? I promise you’ll be back by ten, in case you have a curfew.”

“My curfew’s midnight.” She was blushing again. “So if we decide to stay out later, that won’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, but your parents are my clients, so I don’t want to piss them off before the job’s done.”

She laughed. “Good plan. My dad was an Olympic archer way back in the day. Probably best not to piss him off…like, ever.”