Page 38 of Captive of Outlaws
“Maren?”
I startle, sitting up a bit straighter, which makes the guys chuckle.
“Yep?”
Will smirks. “She was a million miles away. Penny for those thoughts.”
I scowl at him and stick out my tongue, even as my heart hammers. “Never.”
Rob smiles into his whiskey and nods at me. “It’s your turn, pretty lady.”
I squint, digging deep to conjure up some good ones. The best lies have a grain of truth in them, I figure. So I’ll borrow a bit from my past.
“Okay,” I say, motioning for quiet. I hold out my thumb. “I’ve been driving since I was twelve.” I put up my index finger. “I can dance an impeccable Virginia reel.”
Then I take a deep breath. This one’s a bit out there, but with the casual vibes of the evening and the warmth of the wine coursing through my veins, I’m feeling brave.
Or maybe just reckless.
“And...” I add my middle finger. “I once made out with two guys the same night.”
I’ll admit it: I made up that lie just to see their reactions. Because in my slightly-tipsy haze, that’s where my mind is going. It does have that grain of truth—a rumor that went around school about Madison Anderson-Scott, the queen bee of our grade—but certainly was never something that happened to me.
And my lie gets a reaction.
Rob chokes on his whiskey.
Tuck’s cheeks turn ruddy.
And Will purses his lips together.
None of them says anything. So I push them.
“No guesses?”
Will clears his throat and sits up straight, shooting Rob and Tuck a look. He leans forward, elbows on his knees so he can look at me squarely, his ice-blue eyes intent.
“Driving,” he says. “That’s a truth.”
“If anything, I’d bet she’s been driving since she was ten.” Rob adds, his own grass-green gaze fixed on me, too. “But I agree.” Heat starts to prickle up the skin of my throat—maybe from the wine, maybe from their stares—but I try to play it cool, alcohol notwithstanding. “And I bet she can dance, too. I recognize a good Southern girl when I see one.”
“Amen to that,” Tuck says huskily. He licks his lips, tracing a finger up and down the condensation of his glass. “So I’m betting it’s that last one. Boys?”
“Mhm.” Rob nods and sits back, throwing an arm over an empty chair and propping an ankle on the opposite knee, the picture of casualness. “I’d reckon.”
“Indeed,” Will mumbles. He swigs his drink.
I sit still, with three pairs of eyes burning into me for as long as I can stand it, and then I break.
“You’re right,” I say. “That’s the lie.” I shrug, trying to look airy and cool, the same way Madison from high school did when everything circulated the rumors about her. “Never done that.”
Tuck’s the first to take his eyes off me—just for a second. He looks from Rob, who’s still leaned back, studying me, and Will, who’s holding his glass in a death grip, like he needs to force himself to concentrate, and then at me.
“Well, for Christ’s sake, no one’s going to make her the offer?”
My skin surges with heat. And it’s not from the wine.
“Scarlet.” Rob’s voice is firm and cold. He’s still staring at me. “Boundaries.”
