Page 85 of Bad Intentions

I laughed nervously, which those two took as a cue that I almost got them.

“Charge your fucking phone,” Al ordered, and the two stormed out of my room.

As soon as I was alone, my smile was gone. I had an urge to do something mean, get a payback. Like the time when I used gloves to collect poison ivy, then rubbed it on Vic’s jacket she left in Al’s car. Blistered skin was the least of her worries.

I was right. They were wrong. They just didn’t know it yet. They wanted bullshit? Here it was.

I dialed Derek, hoping he picked up. And he did, with a curt “Yes.”

“I just had an interesting conversation with Alysha and Victoria,” I said without preamble, not wanting to be interrupted. “Alysha said that she talked to you last night. Maybe she did, except they were out of town, and I was at your place. Anyway, she said that you sounded like you were desperate to get in her pants. But she’s sure you are all talk and no walk. Her words. I’d tell her different, but you and I are none of anyone’s business. I told you, this town is all rumors and immatures. Talk to you later.”

I hung up, my heart beating so fast that I thought I’d pass out.

I knew what I told him would annoy him. If it did, I was hoping that would drive a wedge between him and those two. If I didn’t have a chance with him, at least neither would they.

Just then, my phone pinged with a message.

Derek: pick me up at my house

I scrambled off the bed and got dressed.

I was upping my bullshit, sure. What I needed, though, was to up my game.

45

MALLORY

Derek had thick skin. That was obvious by how controlled he always was, calm when I pulled up outside his house and he walked out onto the porch, hands on his hips, staring me down like he could coax a confession out of me.

I looked at his car and the flat tire. “That sucks,” I said. “Patch the tires with the plug. Drive the car to the shop. That’ll save you money on towing.”

“Aren’t you savvy?” He sauntered down the steps, his eyes trained on me the whole time.

I shrugged. “You have to be when you learn how to take care of things.”

Whether or not he suspected that I was responsible for the flat tire, he didn’t say a word. But the way he looked at me changed. A little amused, a little curious, a little suspicious. I liked it.

He’d said the night before that he was passing through. Lies, I could tell. When you passed through town, you got a motel. You didn’t rent a place monthly. But I didn’t question him, didn’t want to nag, but still didn’t know what exactly he did for a living or why he was in Burnville.

He’d called me, that was all that mattered. So I took him to the auto store to get the temporary fix for the flat tire. I brought him back to his house and watched him fix it, proud of my work that let me spend more time with him. I was hoping we could do lunch together, but I knew, of course, that he wasn’t a lunch kind of guy.

“Bring me a rag from under the kitchen sink,” Derek ordered, his hands dirty, his shirt saturated with sweat. He somehow looked even sexier like this.

I ran inside the house for the rag, but before I walked out, I took off my jean vest and threw it on the couch. I left it there on purpose so I could come back for it some other time.

When Derek was done with the tire, he finally looked at me. “You have a hundred bucks on you?”

“What?” I frowned, not understanding.

“I can’t find my debit card, and I don’t have the time to go to the bank. You have a hundred? I’ll give it back to you.”

That was a lot of money, but if he asked Al or Vic, they’d lend it without thinking. I had to keep up.

“Sure,” I said and rummaged in my purse, collecting the twenties and tens. I had a feeling he wouldn’t give it back, but maybe I could swipe some from Al or Vic.

“I’m heading to the auto garage,” he said, pocketing the bills. “Thanks for the ride.”

Dismissed. Again.