Page 50 of The Sweet Talker

“Yes and no. It’s complicated.”

I work to keep my voice steady when I say, “Uncomplicate it, then. Tell me what’s really going on.” Tears blur my eyes and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to believe the man who cooked homemade traditional foods for me had some ulterior motive.

“It’s just…I knew I’d be paired with her, and Declan challenged me.”

My breath comes quicker. “Challenged you?”

“He picked you.” He grips the back of his neck. “Shit, this isn’t coming out right. Look, I wanted you to go with me.”

My mind races, trying to figure out what he’s trying to say. “Did you guys have a bet or something?” Oh God, that can’t be right. We had so much fun this week, grew so close. Was that all in my imagination? Was he charming me, sweet talking me simply to win a bet and get me to the table? “Brody?” I croak out, and inch toward the door.

“It wasn’t a bet.” His voice is low, pained. “Not really.”

I hug myself harder, as a chill seeps into my bones. “What was it then?”

“Can we talk inside?” He takes in my shaking body. “You’re freezing.”

I nod, my voice stuck in my throat.

He touches my arm, his entire body tense. “Let me get your door. I don’t want you stepping into any potholes.”

I nod again as uneasy energy courses through my veins. He circles the car, opens my door, and when he bends something falls from his pocket and lands in a puddle of icy water. “What was that?”

“Shit.” He reaches into the puddle, and fishes around. He pulls his hand out and shakes it. “That’s freezing.”

“What did you lose?” I ask.

Without answering me, he shoves his hand into the puddle again, and after a good search he pulls his hand out, and when I see what he’s holding, the world closes in on me. My throat squeezes tight, and I can’t seem to get air.

“Brody?” I squeak out as my mouth goes desert dry.

“Can we talk?”

“That’s…my phone. Where did you get my phone?”

“It’s not what you think.” He reaches for my hand but I pull it back, my mind going back to the day we met. Over the course of the last week, it occurred to me that Brody and I had so much in common. From our favorite type of Christmas tree, right down to popcorn in our bark.

“None of it was a coincidence, was it?” I ask quietly, tears pounding behind my eyes.

A garbled sound comes out of his throat. “You and me, Josie. That’s fate.”

“Fate.” I give a hard shake of my head. “Fate didn’t bring us together,” I say as the pieces fall into place. “Declan brought us together. He picked me—to be your dinner date so you wouldn’t be stuck with his cousin—which meant you had to pursue me.” I point to my dripping phone. “Is this how you did it? You went through my phone, looked at my pictures, then did all the things I used to like doing?”

“No, Josie. That’s not it. I mean, some of what you’re saying is true, but it’s not like that. Please, let me explain.”

A hard laugh gets stuck in my throat. I snatch the phone from him and try to turn it on, but it’s waterlogged, completely ruined. I toss it back to him, and jump from the car, pushing him out of my way.

“It might have been a game to you, Brody, but it wasn’t to me. I hope you and Declan had fun playing with my heart.”

“Josie, please.”

My blood turns to ice and slowly moves through my body. “Were you even planning on staying until New Year’s, or was that just another big lie to worm your way into my life and take what you needed from me.”

“No, it wasn’t a lie.” There’s a desperation about him as he reaches for me, but I jerk back. “I was going to talk to my coach, and if I couldn’t, I was going to drive back up to kiss you when the ball dropped.”

“How can I possibly believe that,” I shoot back. “Or anything else you say?”

“Josie?”