Page 146 of Shade
AN HOUR LATER, the guys are done with their “house” riding and are in the kitchen looking for food. I’m at the kitchen island with my laptop making Shade’s plane ticket reservations for tomorrow morning, with him over my shoulder asking that we sit together and his phone ringing constantly. He ignores it, as usual.
Doesn’t even look at it. Why would he? He’s trying to get me to like him enough to sit next to him.
“Are you going to answer that phone or just let it ring?”
He shrugs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t like talking on the phone. So no, not going to answer it.”
I take the phone from off the counter. He lets me. I glance at the number. It’s just a number, no name. “Who is it?”
He shrugs again, like he’s taking after Camden now. What do I do? I fucking answer it.
Holding the phone to my ear, I glare at Shade because I’m pretty damn sure he’s setting me up. “Hello?”
The girl on the other line stutters. “Oh, I. . . um. . . is this Shade’s phone?”
“Yes, it’s his phone. Can I help you? I’m his assistant, Scarlet.” Shade smiles and takes a piece of licorice off the counter to chew on. I do the same because two can play this game.
“I was looking for him. Not his assistant. He told me to call him.”
I laugh. “Yeah well, he gives his number to anyone because guess what, he doesn’t answer it. I do.”
“Well, can I talk to him?” she presses. By now, Shade’s laughing. Look at him. He thinks this shit is funny. Stupid jerk.
“No. He’s busy eating licorice.”
“Eating licorice?”
Taking another piece of licorice from the package, he slaps my forehead it with it lightly, then traces my face with it. I open my mouth and bite it, chewing slowly. “Yep. Would you like to leave a message and I’ll see if he wants to call you back?”
Shade drops his arm and looks at the small piece left in his hand, then to me, still grinning.
“Yeah, tell him Rachel called.”
“Rachel?” I repeat, waiting to see if Shade knows her, only he shrugs. Again. Like he has no clue. Because he doesn’t. Ask him what he had for lunch earlier and he’d give you the same face. I’m convinced he’s had too many concussions in his life.
“Yes, Rachel. He has the number.”
“Okay, sure.” And then I hang up and hand him his phone back. “Why do you give your number out if you’re not going to call them back?”
“Seems like the polite thing to do.”
I turn to face him and he tries to touch my thighs. I slap his hand away. “So you tell them to call you but you have no intention of ever answering them?”
His brow pulls together. “That soundsmean.”
“Well it is. You’re giving them false hope there’s more to the connection they thought they had with you.”
You know the double meaning here, but does he?
Do you see that face? The way his lips thin out, pressing together almost contemplatively?
He might.
Tiller comes into the kitchen holding his phone in his hand and his helmet. “What’s going on with you two?” Then he motions between us and sets his helmet on the counter.
“Nothing,” I say immediately, only to have Shade ignore him completely and pick up his cell phone, staring at the screen.
Roan’s the next in the kitchen and knocks Tiller’s phone out of his hand onto the floor. “Stop texting her.”
