Page 43 of Porter's Angel

“You didn’t?”

She chuckled grimly. “That was all on him. To think that he has more attachment disorders than I do?”

“He sounds like an idiot.”

“Well, you met him,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “He is. I never thanked you for letting me know how much of a cheater he was.”

A lump started in his chest and started to lodge its way up into his throat. Porter had made a big mistake, hadn’t he? His stupid conscience—he should’ve actually used it this time, instead of trying to find ways to go up against Nash. Angel had a hard time trusting and he’d been lying to her this whole time after she’d beencheatedon?

It wasn’t like Porter could tell her the truth when she was at her most vulnerable, but he’d have to tell her eventually. He’d planned on telling her tonight. She might shrug it off in true Angel fashion—he’d definitely expected to get a fiery response, but now that he really knew her, what would the truth actually do to her?

Forget the ripping-off-the-Band-Aid approach, he needed to break what he’d done to her slowly. “Remember how you were so suspicious of me in the beginning?” he asked. “You thought I was that obnoxious flirt at the party? I’m very different from that guy.”

She smiled. It was to reassure him, which made it even worse. “I think I can tell that now.”

“There are reasons for that,” he said.

Angel broke into a laugh. “What? You were going undercover?”Kinda.“Your friends keep warning me that you’re a prankster.”

“Hey! I promise that I have a very good explanation for everything. Maybe you won’t like it, but maybe you won’t hate it. Anyway, can you just see me for who I am right now and not who I was at that party? I promise I will tell you everything that you want to know tonight, but let’s finish this day first, huh? We’ll talk as much as you want about that later, but not… right now.”

Did I just make things worse?

She tilted her head at him and then leaned it against his shoulder. The feel of her soft hair tickling his neck stopped the rest of his brain from working. “What do you want to talk about now?” she whispered.

“How sweet and spicy you are?”

“Gag.”

He ran his fingers through hers. “How soft your skin is?”

“Double gag.”

He grunted out in a laugh and took her by the arms, pulling her from his lap so that he could move around to face her. “Or what about how I can beat you at the prop bets for NASCAR tonight?” Her eyes lit up with interest. Now there was his girl. “You up for a little NASCAR action with a grumpy old man?”

“Who? You?”

“Nice try. Old Man Funches. I figure you have a lot in common. You’re old before your time; he’s old. I really think you’ll hit it off.”

She glared, but he recognized that glint of humor in her eyes—she enjoyed his teasing. Grey was right. He was beginning to read her like a book. “Maybe I might,” she said.

“How about I sweeten the deal—we’ve got Futures, Driver Matchups, Group Bets and Props.”

“I don’t know what half of that means,” she sputtered with a laugh.

“It means my driver is better than Funches’s favorite, and he knows it, but he’s too prideful to admit it, and so I’m making him put his money where his mouth is.”

“Oh, so you’re swindling a poor old man out of his money?”

“Believe me, Funches isnota poor old man. He’s got a man cave that defies all man caves, but we don’t make bets with money anyway—mostly we make bets with things that we don’t want to do—like clearing out the old wreckage from Funches’s junkyard that he kept from back in his World War II days.”

“World War II, huh?” she asked. Her nose wrinkled with amusement.

“Practically. I’m still paying up on that. Funches normally invites all his old army buddies, but I’m thinking he’ll enjoy some fresh blood. They’ll talk at you about the good ol’ days, but we’re making the good ol’ days happen now, am I right? NASCAR night usually involves sitting around like lazy walruses, talking big, and eating too much. I mean, have I mentioned the food?”

“I can get into that,” she said.

He squeezed her. “I thought you could. It sure beats Funches chasing us around with a shotgun to get us off of his land.”