The Better to Bite(21)

The guy was a boy scout. Cute, smart, and law-abiding. When he found out about the whole law-abiding part, my dad would be in heaven.

I was actually pretty close to that sweet spot myself. Maybe my bad boy days would be over.

He cranked the truck and pulled out of the empty lot. I didn’t see Cassidy anymore. No telling where she was. But I had the weird feeling she was around, watching me.

You should’ve come with us.

“I’m really glad you came to the game,” Brent said, and my gaze darted to his hands as they gripped the steering wheel. Strong hands, tanned. “Even though I got the impression that football wasn’t your sport.”

I laughed at that. “I don’t actually have a sport.” Thank goodness.

“Give football a chance,” he told me. “You might be surprised by how much you like something new.” We were on the main road now. I’d looked up his address online so I knew where he lived. We’d have to slip away from this road soon and snake through the woods as we headed up the mountain.

“You were good,” I said when I realized the silence in the truck had stretched a bit too long. “Like…really good.” Almost steroid good, but a girl wasn’t supposed to say that on a first date, right?

I saw the white flash of his teeth as he grinned. “Thanks.”

“Is it always a slaughter like that?” Perhaps slaughter wasn’t the best word, but it was the only thing that sprang to mind.

He shrugged and steered the truck to the left, toward the darker woods and the twisting roads that waited. “Lately it is.”

And why is that? “You’re not on steroids, are you?” Oh, crap. The blurting again. I’d really meant to hold that question back until at least the second date.

But, to my immense relief, Brent just laughed. “Nah, I’m drug free, trust me.”

“Good to know.” Now Dad wouldn’t have to bust the football team. Maybe.

His right hand reached out and caught my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I like you, Anna.” His deep voice filled the car. A hint of the South flavored his words, rolling them just a little. “You say what you think, don’t you? No holding back with you.”

Usually people were turned off by that habit, but Brent didn’t seem to be pulling away. “Maybe I should hold back more.”

He spared me a brief glance. “Maybe you should let go more.”

I swallowed and wondered why things suddenly felt so intense. “Wh-what—” I’d just stuttered. So not me. I cleared my throat and tried again. “What happened with you and Valerie? One day you’re the lead VIP couple on campus, and the next you’re not?”

His hand pulled away from mine. I could so kill a mood when I wanted. It was a talent.

“It wasn’t quite that sudden. We’d both been changing for a while.”

From the stilted tone, I got that he didn’t want to keep talking about his ex or their changes. Fine. I could understand that. It wasn’t like I wanted to dish on Valerie for hours, either.

New topic. “So do you often have parties at your house? I mean, parties that start when you aren’t even there?”

The truck took a sharp left curve, then a right. My ears were popping a bit as we drove higher up the mountain. I swallowed again to ease the pressure.

His low laugh came as I’d hoped, and I was happy to hear that sound. He had a good laugh. “During football season, yeah, I do. My place is the un-official hangout.”

“And your parents don’t mind?” I shook my head. “My dad would flip.”

“That’s because he’s the sheriff.” Because I was staring at his hands—again—I saw the way they tightened around the steering wheel. “My parents aren’t in town for most of the fall or winter, so it’s no big deal to them where I go or what I do.”

His words made me sad because I could hear the echo of pain in his voice.

“They’re divorced,” he said into the silence. “My dad moved away two years ago, and my mom likes to travel with whatever flavor of the week she’s dating.”

I knew Brent had money—a lot of it. When I’d been on the Internet—I couldn’t help it, I did like to snoop—I'd found some info on his parents. His mom was an ex-actress-slash-model, and his dad had been a guy with old money. Put the two together and what do you get? Parents who didn’t seem to care much for their son.

“My mom split on us last year,” I confessed to him and my hands fisted in my lap. No, if you’re telling the story, tell it all. “She left, I’d hoped she’d come back but—”