Page 53 of Perfect Pact
Gathering the courage, I sit up. I’m just about to pull my shirt over my head when a phone chimes.
“Ignore it,” he pleads.
It chimes again. And again.
“For the love of God.” Dusty tilts his head back and roars, his hands falling to his sides.
The moment is ruined.
“Here.” Reaching over, I grab both our cell phones. “Shit.” Both our screens light up. I jump off and toss him his phone as I swipe mine to life.
There’s a text from Joey and an alert saying a new MC Scoop has been posted.
I don’t even bother clicking on the alert and tap on Joey’s, seeing what she has to say. She doesn’t say anything. It’s just a screenshot of the alert.
This can’t be happening.
I’m frozen, staring at a picture of Dusty carrying me out of Pony Up and putting me in his truck. I reply thanks, then go to the alert and click the link. Maybe it’s not as bad as the picture looks.
Who am I kidding? Nothing good comes from making headlines.
Well, well, well. It looks like Mrs. Michaels is getting carried away with Mason Creek’s newest resident, Dusty Jacobs. I wonder what Bobby thinks about his wife getting cozy with her new neighbor.
I can’t finish the article. I already know what it says. This is what I was trying to avoid. This is why I’m not allowed to get comfortable.
“Beth…” Dusty walks over to me, “what’s this?” He turns his phone around to face me, but I don’t have to look. I already know what he’s showing me.
I don’t say anything. The article says it all.
“What the fuck, Beth?” he seethes. “You’re married? Shit!” He runs a hand through his hair and begins to pace.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to apologize. It’s simple, but it’s the truth.
“For what? Leading me on?”
“I can’t do this.” I spin around and rush toward the door, but Dusty is too quick, pinning his hands over my head.
“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get storm into my life like a tornado and leave. You are going to weather this storm, Beth. You’re going to stay.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head back and forth. “I really can’t.”
“Answer one question: are you married.”
One question?
How can I answer something so complex?
“Yes—no—I mean—”
“Which is it? Are you or aren’t you?”
How in the world did I end up here? He’s pissed off . Granted, he has a right to be—why is he getting a text alert for the MC Scoop anyway? He just moved here.
“Get off me.” I push against his chest. “Why do you even have that? Stalking my every move wasn’t enough, you had to make sure you kept extra tabs on me? Wanted to make sure you weren’t keeping company with someone headline worthy?” I make my way to the back door, and he follows.
“Don’t turn this around on me. The ladies’ signed me up the other day.”
“Whatever.” I turn the handle, but Dusty grabs my elbow. “Please, Beth. Don’t go. Whatever it is, we can talk about it.”