The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(26)

If Mom only knew what they said about him at school, she wouldn’t be so okay with it. But Faith decided she was. “I said yes. We’ll go out tomorrow after he’s done for the day.”

“Good.”

She hoped. Maybe she’d get more out of this bargain with Kyle than she’d imagined.



The next morning, Faith went to the studio to practice for the big dance scenes in the musical. Full cast rehearsal started next week, and she wanted to be the most prepared member there. For all her confidence once she had an audience, it was hard to be “on” during rehearsals. She second-guessed every step, every note. The dream sequence would be the most difficult piece. She hoped Josh, the guy playing Jud, was practicing, too. He had to lift her three times, and they hadn’t danced together yet.

And it was a good excuse to avoid Kyle. For some reason, now that they were going on a date, being home while he was there made her feel self-conscious. Stupid—it was her house, after all—but the thought of watching him work sent a wave of nerves down her spine to prickle against the back of her knees. She worried about being attracted to him, not wanting to date another guy who saw her as disposable. Somehow, though, she was having a hard time believing that. Not with the way he looked at her. Either he was better at seducing girls than she thought, or she was special.

Wouldn’t that be something…wonderful?

“I’m going out for lunch, dear,” Madame called from the doorway to the small studio. Even at forty, she was still elegant and lean in the leotard she’d covered with a long flowing skirt and open button-down shirt. “You interested in picking up a preschool ballet lesson at two?”

“Sure.” Faith whirled around, trying to ignore the ache in her toes from standing en pointe.

“Any word from NYU?”

She paused in her routine and shook her head. Her pulse tripped in her veins. “They said they’d send out final responses sometime next week. I’m a little scared.”

Madame walked into the room and took her hands. “I watched you record that audition video. You’re good enough, honey. And if they pass, their loss…but I doubt they’ll pass.”

Anxiety flared in Faith’s stomach. She’d worked so hard for this chance. It was her dream, her future, on the line. “I hope not.”

Madame released her hands. “Don’t worry. Good things are coming for you. I have a feeling.”

She left the studio, but Faith stood frozen for a minute. Good things. Last weekend had been horrible, but maybe the rest of the week would fix all that, and in the end, she’d have her acceptance letter, too. Squaring her shoulders, Faith went to the stereo and put on the track for the hoedown scene.





Chapter Nineteen


Kyle


The Toyota rattled its way home. Kyle’s hands ached from hoeing and tearing at the grass in the Gladwells’ yard, and he feared the dirt crusted under his nails was a permanent addition. Not exactly the impression he wanted to make with Faith tonight, especially since she hadn’t been home to see what he was working on. She might assume he was lazy.

Or a slob.

The familiar tug of nerves tried to claw its way up his throat. Damn it, not this time. This time he’d have a date with a nice, pretty girl, and he wouldn’t f*ck it up. He wouldn’t.

Feeling defiant, he turned into the driveway and parked in the standalone garage next to Grandpa’s Benz. Dad’s car was gone, but it was only five thirty, and it was tax season.

He unloaded the truck and carried everything to the workshop at the back of the garage Dad had set up for him as a reward for starting his business. They didn’t need room for six cars, and Kyle enjoyed the quiet the workshop gave him.

Kyle took his time cleaning his tools, bending at the waist every so often to stretch the kinks from his back. Where had Faith been all day? Her car was there when he started work, but gone when he went to lunch, and still gone when he stopped for the day. Had she decided to back out of their date and hidden instead?

His stomach clenched again. Good-bye, defiance—now he was nervous.

He wiped his damp hands on his filthy jeans and loaded his tools back into the Toyota. The truck was sloppy with mud and dead plant matter. No way he could show up for a date in it, even if he wanted to, just to stop being a jackass poseur for a minute. However, on the other side of the garage, the Charger gleamed in the fluorescent light. A smile spread across his face. He didn’t remember it being so clean this morning when he left for work. Kyle might be a poseur, but his grandpa knew what impressed the ladies.

“I’m home!” he hollered from the mudroom after kicking his mud-caked boots off by the door.

“In here!” Grandpa’s voice came from the kitchen.

Kyle went to the fridge. Grandpa was sitting at the table, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. He was reading one of those men’s magazines—the article read “Get Shredded in Thirty Days.”

Kyle swallowed a laugh. “Thinking about working out?”

Grandpa snorted. “I don’t understand a word of this. In my day, you ran two miles, did forty sit-ups, forty push-ups, twenty pull-ups, and called it good. This here says I’m supposed to have a chest day, a leg day, an arm and shoulders day. Who has the time?”

“Uh, you? You are retired, you know.”