Down to You (The Bad Boys #1)(33)
Author: M. Leighton

I still don’t know who was in my room last night, but I’m starting to genuinely hope it was Cash and not Nash. Yes, Nash is everything I should want in a man, everything my mother tried to drum into my head. Not to mention that he’s hotter than seven shades of hell and could probably make me forget my convictions when he kisses me.

But beside Cash…he’s beginning to pale in comparison.

I don’t know if it’s my inherent love of the sexy bad boy or if it’s that Cash is turning out to be more than what I initially thought. Either way, he’s in my head. Under my skin. And I doubt I’ll be able to resist him much longer.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s still dangerous and will probably break my heart. And I’ll try to hold out as long as I can. But in my heart, in my gut, I know there’s something between us that won’t go away until we sweat it out of each other.

The fun way.

But the way that will end with me in tears, watching him leave.

At least this time, it’s a choice, though. It’s my choice. I’m going into it knowing full well that might happen. I might not be able to keep from getting hurt, but I’m in control enough to make the choice for myself.

And, in the end, I’ll choose Cash. Try as I might to fight it, it’s inevitable. If only he could only be a little, teeny, tiny bit like Nash…

My phone jars me from my thoughts. I forgot to turn the ringer off. I jump, scrambling to dig it out of my bag and answer it before I get crucified by my professor.

I reach for the button on the side to mute it and am getting ready to slip it back into my bag when I see Ginger’s name on the screen. With a shrug, I pick up my book and my bag and head for the door. I’ve already disrupted class and I’m not learning a thing anyway. I might as well just go ahead and leave.

When I hit the talk button, I’m greeted by Ginger’s raised, irate voice and a long string of profanity. “Stay in your lane you limp-dick, candy-ass, crazy mother fu—”

“Ginger?” I interrupt.

She quiets immediately. “Oh, Liv. Hi, sweetie. I didn’t hear you answer.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I remark dryly. “What’s up?”

“Well, actually, I’m on my way to get you.”

“Me? Why?” The hair at my nape prickles with unease. If Ginger is on her way to get me, something’s wrong.

“Because your car is broken again, right?”

“Um, yes, but how did you know?”

“You had to have someone drive you all the way to Salt Springs for your last shift, remember?”

Nash. “Oh, right. But it’s been fixed since then.”

“Well hell,” she says in frustration. “But wait, you just said it’s broken.”

“I know. It is. It’s just a different break.”

“Liv, seriously, I fear for your life in that piece of shit. No car should tear up as frequently as yours does. Do you have Munchausen’s by proxy?”

“Munchausen’s by proxy?”

“Yeah, you know where people, like, poison their family members and stuff for attention.”

“I know what it is. I’m just a little surprised you do.”

I can hear the proud smile in her voice. “I saw a special on the Discovery Channel.”

“You were watching the Discovery Channel?”

“Yes.”

“Um, why?”

“I lost the remote.”

“You lost the remote?”

“Yes. Are you just gonna repeat everything I say?”

“If you keep saying ridiculously unbelievable things then yes, probably.”

“What have I said that’s ridiculous?”

“That I might have Munchausen’s by proxy. With my car. That you learned something on the Discovery Channel. That you even know what the Discovery Channel is. And that you sat in your living room watching a show about Munchausen’s Syndrome because you lost the remote control. How can you lose the remote control in a house that’s no bigger than yours?”

“It was in the freezer. Apparently when I took out the vodka, I set the remote control down.”

“That makes sense,” I say sarcastically.

“The batteries in that bitch’ll probably never die now,” she says with a bark of laughter.

“Ginger, can I ask you a question?” I ask gently.

“Sure, sweetie. What is it?”

“Why are you on your way to get me?”

Sometimes Ginger needs a little redirection to stay on point. Sometimes I need the same thing when I’m with Ginger.

“Oh, damn! It’s your dad. He fell and broke his leg. He made me promise not to tell you, but…well, you know. I’m gonna. Of course, I’m gonna.”

“He broke his leg? When?”

“Two days ago.”

“And I’m just now finding out about this?”

I have to concentrate on keeping my voice lowered. I’m intensely annoyed that I’m finding out so long after the fact.

“I wasn’t going to tell you at all. He made me promise, you know. Like I said. But then when Tad mentioned seeing him at the hospital and that he’s expecting some lambs, well, I knew you’d want to know. Someone who knows what the hell they’re doing will have to come take care of things for a day or two until you find the babies and whatever else you need to do.”

“So if there weren’t lambs on the way, no one would’ve told me?”

My anger is rising.

“Uh,” Ginger says quietly, knowing she’s on dangerous ground. “That fool father of yours made everyone promise. He doesn’t want you having to make the trip home or spend your time worrying about him.”

I pinch the skin between my eyes, wishing I could stop the dull throb that’s building across the front of my head. I bite back the dozen or so sharp comments that are trembling on the tip of my tongue.

“How far out are you?”

“About ten minutes.”

“I’m still at school. You’ll have to pick me up here.”

“That’s fine. Just give me directions.”

I sigh. Loudly. Trying to give Ginger directions and then expecting her to actually show up at the correct location is a lot like throwing a knife into the air. It’s dangerous, stupid and somebody could end up getting hurt. She has landed us in questionable parts of town more than once, places I would never dream of getting out of the car. Unless, of course, I was accompanied by two ninjas and a sumo wrestler.