Page 43 of Really Truly Yours
I shouldn’t have ignored Sam’s call. Silly me, thinking things would work out for a change.
Long past watchfulness, I hear a vehicle pass the house. The sound of it backing up has me looking twice.
A late-model Ford truck, a crew cab with shiny wheels and a top of the line trim package, backs into Donny’s driveway. Two men get out—Gray from the passenger side and a tall, lankier one from behind the wheel. He has dark hair, and his arms are wholly covered by tattoos. Who on earth? Grayson isn’t from the area, so I assumed he had no one to call for help. No one except—
Oh no.
Not like this.
Grayson
At the call of my name, I find Sydnee jogging across the street faster than I’ve seen her move yet. This time I know that beneath that tired old sweater are great curves.
Beautiful?
Uh, yeah—and it took this red-blooded male embarrassingly long to notice. It hit me like a meteor from space, there in her living room two nights ago when anger flushed her cheeks as she jammed that measly thirty bucks into my pocket.
I smile as I reach out to her. “Hey, come meet my brother.”
She eyes Tripp and visibly balks. Is it the tats? Some of them are pretty dark, part of his alter ego. She keeps her arm tucked at her waist, wearing a smile as fake as a three-dollar bill.
Tripp, who’s been on edge since the minute I asked and he consented to help with repairs, lingers at the truck, lowering the tailgate. I wave him over.
After introductions, a brotherly smirk lands on me. “Under different circumstances, I’d accuse you of burying the lede, bro.”
Burying the…
Sydnee.
Super pretty, super sweet Sydnee.
Her feet shift on the grass, her smile precarious.
Excuse me, but making Sydnee uncomfortable is my job. I shut Tripp down with a scowl. This isn’t the time. He returns to the truck to start unloading.
As opposed to friendly, or even curious, Sydnee’s expression is worried. “Um, Gray, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.”
She starts walking toward the row of gangly hedges separating Donny’s place from the next. My curiosity is rivaled only by appreciation of her awesome shape.
“What’s up? Donny okay?”
“Donny’s fine, but Gray, your brother…”
I swat at a fly that buzzes my faces. “What about him?”
With that sweet lip of hers caught in her teeth, she peers around me. “You shouldn’t have brought him.”
I startle back. “Why not? I need help, and Donny’s been asking about him.”
“I know, but…” Her thumbnail replaces her lip.
It hits me. I don’t mean to be condescending or anything, but given her neck of the woods, I’m guessing she may know what some of Tripp’s tats indicate. He’s got gangland and prison art that make good people in the know shy away. I touch her sleeve. “It’s okay. He looks scary, but he’s a good guy.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “It isn’t that.”
While she gnaws her thumbnail, I wait. Sure, she’s a bit uptight, but her manner seems uncharacteristic. “What’s up, Sydnee?”