The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(27)

“Poppycock. You take a look at the Charger?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for having her washed.”

“Hey, can’t take a lady for a ride around town in a dirty car, son. This tells her she’s special.” The corner of Grandpa’s mouth twitched. “And I’m assuming that’s true since you sat through the whole musical last night.”

“And I’ve had that Kansas City song stuck in my head since.” He took a swig from his water bottle. “Drove me nuts.”

“Those men could dance back then.” Grandpa’s tone was approving. “Hmm, wonder if your date is a girl who just cain’t say no?”

Kyle’s ears flamed up. “Jesus, Grandpa. I’m not dating Ado Annie.”

“Well, I can hope, right?” His grin softened. “You’re a good kid. You got more of me than your Daddy in you, so naturally I believe that. Don’t let yourself get in the way tonight, and this Faith girl will see it, too.”

“I know.” He toyed with his bottle cap. “It’s just been a while since I tried this hard.”

“And you’ve been lonely.” Grandpa’s sigh was heavy. “I know I’m partly at fault for that, but maybe it’s time to let your guard down a little.”

Kyle’s palms grew slick with sweat. “Maybe.”

“It’ll be fine. Hear me? You’re okay, kid. You are. That incident before ninth grade with what’s her name from camp? That’s history.”

“You call it an incident, I call it a crash and burn.” Kyle could still remember Cara’s face when he took her for a moonlit stroll down to the canoe dock and made his move so badly she wouldn’t speak to him again. “The last time I tried to kiss a girl, she fell into a lake.”

“So? That girl moved on. You need a fresh start.” Grandpa squeezed his shoulder. “All right, heart-to-heart over. Go hit the shower. You have a girl to woo.”

The memory of Cara coming up from the water, spluttering curses, was too much to take, so he joked it away. “Woo? Who even says that anymore?”

Grandpa glared at him. “You can impress her. Take it a step at a time.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ll see.”



The Charger’s engine always growled before he cut the ignition, and a curtain cracked open at the front of Faith’s house. No turning back now—they knew he was here. Kyle pulled his cell phone from his pocket. One text: All set. South door open. Casey knows you’re coming.

Good. His surprise was still in the works. Rolling his shoulders to relieve a little of the tension keeping them bunched around his ears, he climbed out of the car and headed to the front porch. Proof that someone had been watching, Mr. Gladwell opened the door two seconds after Kyle’s knock.

He stood there staring Kyle down for a second. Behind him, on the dining room table, was the most beautiful bow Kyle had ever seen. Blood red fiberglass, obviously expensive, and in perfect fighting shape. A fletching kit for making arrows was laid out next to it. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Olympic archer. Right. “Hello, sir. Could I…um, is Faith here?”

Mr. Gladwell’s eyebrow inched up, and he crossed his arms. “Yes, but only if you answer two questions.”

Oh, shit. He was nervous enough, for God’s sake. “Okay.”

“One, you’ll have my daughter home by curfew, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Two, you won’t take her anywhere dangerous, correct?”

“Correct. It’s just dinner, sir.”

The man’s face relaxed into a smile. “I have to do that with every kid my girls date. If they give me attitude, I know they’re no good.”

“So, uh, I passed?”

“Kyle, you called me ‘sir.’ You definitely passed. Come on in.”

His heart thundered in his chest like he’d run for third on a long drive to the corner of right field, praying he wouldn’t get thrown out. Faith’s dad was acting completely normal now, like nothing had happened. This man had one sick sense of humor.

“Hi, Kyle.” Mrs. Gladwell glided into the room and gave his arm a squeeze. “The yard is looking lovely.”

He managed a laugh. “Even with the grass pulled up?”

“Especially with the grass pulled up. I’m really pleased.”

“Thanks.”

Mrs. Gladwell didn’t acknowledge him. She was staring at the dining room table with her eyes narrowed. “Gavin, please tell me you didn’t do the thing where you try to put the fear of God into Faith’s date by making arrows at my dining room table again.”

“I’m not putting the fear of God into anyone,” Mr. Gladwell said, smirking. “I’m putting the fear of meeting God into these boys.”

A flush climbed Kyle’s neck and flooded his face with heat. Sweat prickled on his nose. “Should I, uh, say my prayers, sir?”

Mr. Gladwell burst out laughing. “Okay, I like this one. Much better than the other kid.”

“His name was Cameron,” Mrs. Gladwell said, shooting a sidelong look at Kyle. “And we probably shouldn’t be discussing him.”

“Good, because that kid was a punk,” Mr. Gladwell muttered before he waved and disappeared into the living room.”