The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(5)

“Um, Faith?” he asked, smiling a little. “You in there?”

She jerked out of her thoughts and forced a smile in return. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“That’ll get you in trouble.”

Bojangles, her cat, rounded the door into the entry and hissed at Cameron. He hissed back.

Faith frowned. “Quit stirring him up.”

He laughed, cocky and sure. “That cat hates me.”

Well, yeah, Cameron ruffled Bojangles’s fur up the wrong way every time he petted him. Cats hated that. “He’s the alpha. You’re in his space.”

“Fine. I’ll leave the demon-cat alone.” He opened the front door for her. “Bye, Mrs. Gladwell!”

“Back by midnight!” she called from the kitchen.

Luckily Mom didn’t see the brief look of annoyance on his face. He led Faith down to his F-150—bright red—and said, “I swear, she treats you like you’re five. Who has a curfew anymore?”

She slipped into the passenger seat. “I have to be at the studio at nine tomorrow. It’s just her way of reminding me I need some sleep. Teaching a group of wiggly first graders how to plié takes patience, you know.”

He didn’t answer, and they drove in silence out to the Moores’ place. Violet’s house was on the lake, with a huge backyard and a fire pit. Her best friend’s parties were legendary, and they’d both worked so hard to make everything perfect, hanging paper lanterns, dragging out all the coolers, and setting up lawn chairs.

They turned down the oak-lined road near Lake Sutton Estates. The branches swayed in the twilight sky, and the air smelled like spring, green and new. Like an ancient hibernating nymph reborn in a sea of bluebonnets.

“I’d give five bucks to know what you’re thinking.” Cameron’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

If she told him she was thinking about bluebonnets, fairies, and being reborn, he’d laugh. “That I love spring.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He reached out and rested his hand on her thigh. “Makes me horny.”

Faith pushed his hand off her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He drove the truck through the gate at the end of Violet’s driveway. Dozens of cars were already parked all over her front yard, except for a spot right by the gate—that one had a sign that read: MY BESTIE PARKS HERE. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

Faith grinned. Violet hadn’t said she was saving them a spot. “That was nice of her, don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

His flat tone made Faith uneasy. “What’s going on?”

“I should ask the same thing.” He got out of the truck without waiting for her.

She clambered out after him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Can you answer the same question?” He stared at a point over her head, but when she didn’t answer, his eyes found hers. They were hard, and a little hurt. “Thought so.”

He took off for the gate. He’d just given her the chance she needed, and she hadn’t dug up the courage to tell him. She couldn’t let him walk away. Not now. “Are you even going to stay here and talk about it?”

“No.” Cameron turned to look at her over his shoulder. “I’m going to get a beer.”

With that, he disappeared through the gate, leaving her alone in the dark. For a minute, she let hurt tears rise in her eyes before getting pissed with herself. If he wanted to run off and have a beer with his friends, whatever. She’d find him before the night was over, tell him she was done, and ask Vi to drive her home later.

She shoved her way through the wrought iron gate, greeted by heavy bass pumping out of the speakers mounted on the patio. People were sprawled out on chairs, or dancing, or slipping away into the dark to hang out by the lake. There was no sign of Cameron—he’d already blended in.

“Dahling!” a girl called in a fake British accent. “You look smashing this evening.”

Faith laughed and turned. Violet was teetering on enormous black wedges, wearing a dress that could only be described as flapper chic. Fringe…so much fringe. “Oh my God, your hair!”

“You like?” Violet turned in a circle. Her hair, a shining black pixie cut with purple streaks, shone in the firelight.

“Yeah. I’m just…surprised at how much you cut off. How much did it end up being?”

“A foot,” she said proudly, dropping the Mary Poppins accent. “Donated it all to your mom’s foundation.”

Faith bent to hug her. Even in the platforms, Violet barely reached her collarbone. “I’m so proud of you.”

Violet wagged a finger at her. “You need to tell your mom to send it to a good home.”

“She already found one. It’ll make a wig for a fierce little girl with leukemia. She’s a fighter.”

“Good.” Her friend surveyed the crowd, nose wrinkled. “Where’s jackass? You dump him yet?”

“No…but we had another fight, or something like it, on the way over.” Faith wrapped her arms around her middle. “I need to tell him. I just don’t know how. I’m such a chicken.”