The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(30)

He turned away, unpacking little sandwiches, strawberries, and cookies from the bag. “And what’s the score?”

She took a deep breath. This felt like a date, but she needed to know before she let herself believe it. “That we’re in this scheme together. You don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend except when we need to put on a show. Isn’t that what this is?” There, she’d said it. She wished she could take it back.

But she really wanted an answer





Chapter Twenty-One


Kyle


Faith’s question felt like a fastball to the chest—crushing and knocking the wind out of him. He was trying so hard, and she thought he was playing a game? God, he just couldn’t win. But he’d promised himself—and Grandpa—that he’d stick with it, and for once, he would.

“I brought you here because I thought you’d like it,” he said quietly, trying to force the confusion out of his voice. “You’ve helped me work on the backyard and I wanted to say thank you.”

There, that sounded neutral, right? Not Faith, you’re the nicest girl I’ve met, and I want to kiss you for nine hours straight. Now that? That sounded desperate.

Faith’s eyebrow raised. “Is that all?”

Damn, she called his bluff fast. “What else do you want it to be?”

She leaned back and turned her head toward the flowers. “I don’t know. Not exactly.”

He resumed unpacking their picnic, trying not to get his hopes up too far. “Neither do I. So I think maybe we should try to be friends, or whatever, just to see.”

She faced him, and her cheeks were as pink as the Autumn Carnival azaleas behind her. “I’d like that. I could use a good friend right now.”

“Me, too.”

She nodded briskly. “So, dinner?”

“Dinner.”

They ate mostly in silence, but he could tell that Faith was slowly thawing out. She kept looking around at all the plants. “So do you know what most of these are?” she finally asked.

“I know what all of them are,” he said, willing her to look at him. “I volunteer here.” He paused. “Please don’t tell anyone that.”

“Why not?”

His mouth opened and closed. She had no idea he wasn’t exactly what she assumed, and he’d as much as announced it. “It’s, um…people can be jerks about guys who like to work on yards.”

“And you have a reputation to protect.”

Her tone was far too knowing for comfort. Did she suspect? “Something like that. Anyway, what about you? I know you dance.”

“And I sing.” Her hands settled in her lap.

“Are you going to keep doing it after we graduate?”

“I hope so.” She shrugged, but he could tell it cost her to act like she didn’t care. “I applied to NYU. They have a great musical theater program. I’m waiting to hear back.”

He nodded, trying not to make a big deal out of it, since she didn’t seem to want to. Still, she must be crazy talented to even think about applying. “Good luck. And what about the musical at school?”

She laughed. “You know about that?”

“Fliers. At school.” Thank God Vi had given him an out here. “You’re Laurey?”

Faith’s eyes lit up. “I’m surprised you’d know that, but yes. And it’s the best role ever.”

She chattered about the costumes, the music, and the story for a good ten minutes, before stopping abruptly. Talking about the performance made her light up. Her eyes were sparkling and she gestured around, pretending to point out things about the set. She looked kind of like he felt when he talked to the head horticulturalist at the arboretum: joyful. The theater was her garden, and he leaned in, listening. If this is what made her happy, he wanted to know about it.

Abruptly, she stopped, her cheeks pink. “Sorry. I kind of ran on there.”

“I like listening to you,” he said, before thinking.

She bit her lower lip. “No guy’s ever said that to me before.”

Kyle let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I’m not like other guys.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, toying with a few loose azalea petals.

“Is that…a bad thing?” he asked.

“No.” Faith gave him a brief smile. “That’s not what I’m worrying about. I was just thinking about part of the musical. There could be a problem.”

He scooted forward and touched her knee. When she didn’t flinch or move away, he left his hand there. “What?”

“It’s silly…but there’s a lift in the ballet scene and my partner hasn’t bothered to practice with me yet. I’m not sure if I can hold the pose. I’m worried I’ll end up overshooting and toppling us both over.”

Was that all? He gave her a quick, clinical looking-over—or so he tried to tell himself it was clinical and not outright ogling. She probably weighed a buck twenty-five. That was nothing. He hauled fifty pound bags of mulch, two at a time, all day. Surely her partner could lift her, but if she was worried about her part, how hard could it be to help her out?

Kyle pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. “Show me.”