Sweet (True Believers #2)(5)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Though as we pulled into Riley’s drive, I thought probably the Mann boys qualified for the title of financially needy themselves. It was, to be totally honest, a shithole, a house that no one had cared about in a long time. Exactly what I was expecting, but as the bungalow sagged in the heat, it was undeniable.

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” he said.

“Are you complimenting me?” And why did that stupidly please me? That wasn’t exactly a glowing report. But then again, I did pride myself on being strong, so that he thought it couldn’t help but make me happy.

“If I am, don’t worry, it’s backhanded,” he assured me as he parked the car. “Now why do you look like you packed to study in Europe for a year? I thought you’re here for only a week.”

How to explain without lying? I only wanted to keep some of the information from him, not be totally dishonest. But I didn’t want him to know I was lying to my parents. “This is all my stuff from my dorm room. Well, a lot of it. Kylie took some of it home for me, but I couldn’t ask her to drag all of it. It wouldn’t fit in Mark’s car.”

“Who is Mark?”

That was what he pulled out of that paragraph? Yay. That was an easy question to answer. “He’s a guy Kylie and I went to high school with who has a car on campus. He usually gives us a ride if our parents don’t pick us up.” Then I was immediately sorry I’d mentioned parents. I didn’t want Riley to ask me about mine.

But he seemed to lose interest in the conversation in general, stepping out of the car, giving me a great view of his perfect ass in jeans that fit the way they should on a guy, not too loose, not too tight. They were riding just slightly past his hips, his back muscles clearly outlined as he twisted. Head thunk. What was I doing? I was supposed to ignore his hotness. It was a mental pact I’d made with myself over the last two days as I had packed up my room. It was the only way I could justify staying with Riley, to swear totally and on my favorite pair of Guess jeans that I would not pay attention to anything about him other than to note how annoying he was.

I opened the back door to grab the second suitcase, but he was already dragging it across the seat.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem.” He studied the sticker on it and fought a smile. “So were your little friends on the bus with you?”

“Yes. I think they were following me.”

“Oh, most definitely. You stick out like a pink thumb.”

“Ha ha. You don’t think they were dangerous, do you?” Unless I was mistaken as to how to conceal a weapon, I hadn’t seen anything on those two. Then again, their jeans had been like garbage bags, so what did I know?

“Not to me. To you? Maybe. You were smart to call me.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I reached for a suitcase to roll it up the driveway, but he waved me off and got both.

“Your sarcasm is annoying,” he told me.

“Why? Because it reminds you of yourself?” I tossed at him, walking over the gravel and up the crumbling steps behind him. For a second, I almost questioned their structural soundness, but then I realized that would be rude.

“That’s entirely possible,” he admitted.

The door wasn’t locked. He shoved it open and swept his arm out for me to enter. “Mi shitty casa es su shitty casa.”

“You need a doormat with that on it,” I told him, brushing by him, determined not to look at his chest, or his eyes, both of which were way more dangerous to my health than the dudes on the bus. My arm touched his pec despite my best efforts, and his skin was warm.

“If we had a doormat it would get stolen,” he said.

I stepped into the stifling heat of the living room. There was no air-conditioning. Craptastic. It smelled like old cigarettes and boy. Sometimes I could tolerate boy but the cigarettes I couldn’t. Wrinkling my nose, I moved forward, peering into a small kitchen while trying to look like I wasn’t checking it out.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

I glanced back to see him watching me carefully, my suitcases standing at attention on either side of him.

No, I wasn’t sure.

“Rory doesn’t mind it here, but Rory is in love with Tyler. For some bizarre reason, people are willing to put up with a lot of shit when they’re in love. I know this place is a dump, so there is still time for you to bail.”

It was tempting. The carpet was dirty brown, stained with years of street dirt and mud and who knew what else. The couch had a sag to each cushion, and it might have been a faded red plaid, but it was hard to say exactly. The oak coffee table was covered with video game boxes and an ashtray loaded with butts. There were no curtains, just a sheet that had been hung with thumbtacks. I wanted to bail, I’m not going to lie. But it was just too rude. If I had absorbed anything positive from my childhood, it was manners that popped up when I least expected them. “No, it’s fine. I appreciate you putting up with this arrangement since it was Tyler’s idea and you and I are not exactly best friends.”

He shrugged. “No big deal. There is plenty of room with the boys gone.”

“Well, thank you.” That was about as gushing as I was going to get about it, so I hoped he heard my sincerity.

“You’re welcome.”

However, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Can I open a window? I have asthma, and the smoke bothers me.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth. At all. But I was going to be coughing in another ten minutes if I didn’t get some fresh air.

Riley gave me an incredulous look. “You don’t have asthma. You’re just saying that because you think it stinks in here.”

Bingo. “What? Of course I do. Why would I lie about having asthma? And how do you know if I have it or not?” Maybe that was defending myself too passionately. I shut my mouth, cheeks just a little hot that he had busted me in my lie.

“I know because I’ve seen you outside in the middle of winter, I’ve seen you dance all night at a club, and I’ve seen you talk enough to make your teeth ache, but I’ve never once seen you use an inhaler. And you’ve never mentioned it before, and Tyler and Nathan smoke in the apartment all the time.”

Damn it. Why couldn’t he be an idiot? It would be much easier to manipulate him that way. “Fine, you’re right. But I am sensitive to the smoke. Besides, opening the window will let some of the heat out.”