“Are you in jail right now?” I ask in the most even voice that I can manage.
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly when she clears her throat and softly laughs. I hide my small smirk with the back of my hand even though she can’t see me right now.
“I—yes. I am.”
My eyes widen. The sudden practiced confidence in her voice is obvious. If we were standing face to face right now, I bet I’d see her whipping her hair off her shoulder and forcing herself to stand taller and appear unfazed.
I have no idea why she’d be calling me of all people at a time like this. She hates my guts. This was evidenced by the fact that our last encounter involved an entirely full glass of water being splashed in my face. Plus, she’s been dodging my calls and texts as I’ve been trying to get a hold of her for the better part of the last ten days.
It hits me that something terrible could have happened and that she clearly needs my help. My tone lowers as I fail to conceal the concern in my voice.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding is all. Are you busy right now?”
I look behind me to the bunkhouse where a warm glow of light spills out of the windows.
“Kinda, yeah,” I admit. It’s not that I’m not willing to offer her the help that she’s inconspicuously asking for right now, but if I had to choose between a night with my family and friends and coming to the rescue of a girl who hates me and has refused to hear me out until she needed something from me? I might choose the former.
“Right. Of course, silly me!” she quips back in a tone too sweet to be genuine. “Enjoy your evening then!”
“Wait—”
“Yes?” I swear I can hear her smile through the phone. It’s probably a satisfied one, thinking she’s got me right where she wants me after a subtle guilt trip.
I huff out a heavy breath and tilt my head to the sky. This woman is fucking complicated. Sure, she’s brilliant. Smarter than most people could ever hope to be. I knew that within minutes of meeting her. And yeah, she’s a brunette bombshell with the kind of body I could waste years of my life just daydreaming about.
But she’s still . . .complicated. And stubborn as hell.
So why is my brow starting to sweat at the thought of her being locked up? Why do I care? And why am I walking back inside right now to grab my keys?
Maybe so I can try to explain myself again. Or maybe so I can figure out why I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since the night I first met her. I wish she didn’t have a hold on me, andthat I could cross her off the list of things that have been giving me hell lately.
“Hang tight,” I tell her with a sigh.
“Okay. Thanks, Warren.”
She hangs up and the line goes silent as I shove the soles of my boots back and forth against the welcome mat before opening the door and stepping inside. The back patio is just off the kitchen, and the first thing I see when I walk in is Gage kissing my sister, Blythe. It’s not a rare sight to see around here these days. The two don’t eventryto keep their hands off each other. He lifts her into his arms and spins her around while she laughs.
“Look,” Blythe says as she points to the large TV screen in the living room. I don’t bother looking at first, preoccupied with scowling at the crack on my phone screen that I just discovered, but then Savannah’s name comes through the speakers.
I was expecting to see a commercial or something for the law firm where she works, but when I snap my head toward the screen, it’s much worse than that. It’s the nightly prime-time news, and a reporter is talking about the arrest of a local attorney earlier today.
The headshot in the corner of the screen is of a smiling Savannah, perfectly polished and put together as usual. That only lasts about three seconds before they’ve replaced her picture on the screen with video footage of her being escorted out of the courthouse. She’s cooperating but clearly displeased. In less than ten seconds, she shouted a few curse words and threw her hair aggressively out of her face before stepping into the cop car.
I’m so shocked and distracted by the video, even as the car is driving away with her in it, that I barely catch the next few words out of the reporter’s mouth. He said physical altercation and alleged indecent exposure? What the hell happened in theretoday? I look down to check the time, seeing that it’s just now a little bit past eight.
Blythe gasps and snaps her fingers as the breaking news story segment ends.
“Hey, am I crazy, or is that the girl you went on a date with a few weeks ago, Warren?” she asks.
I purse my lips, set my phone down on the table, and shove both of my hands in the pockets of my jeans. I don’t exactly have the time or energy to chat and explain it, but I look up to the ceiling and reply to my sister with a resounding sigh anyway.
“That’s her.”
“No shit,” Tripp laughs and plasters an amused grin on his face. He’s leaning his hip against the back of the couch with one boot crossed over the other. After looking down at his phone for a moment, he lifts it and points the screen toward me. “Damn, this story is going viral.”
I hate social media, so I don’t even attempt to lean forward and read what’s on the screen. He flips the screen back toward him and reads it out loud anyway.
