Dangerous Lies by Becca Fitzpatrick

Dangerous Lies by Becca Fitzpatrick

Author:Becca Fitzpatrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers


BY THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, I was feeling much better—physically. I’d been medically cleared to go back to work, and despite Carmina’s insistence that I not rush things, I was ready to see the Sundown again. As in all small towns, talk traveled quickly in Thunder Basin. If there was one piece of news I wanted to reach Trigger’s ears, it was that I was back at work. He’d taken some skin and blood, but that was all he was getting. I wasn’t going to hide in Carmina’s house, living in fear of him.

But since the Sundown was closed Sundays, I had one more day of waiting before I donned my support hose, faux-leather skirt, and camo top again. I woke first thing, beating Carmina out of bed, and put a pot of coffee on. Then I showered for church. That’s right. Church.

I hadn’t seen or talked to Chet since our disastrous kiss over a week ago, and despite the proverbial expression, time was not mending my heart—with each passing day, I felt worse. I needed to know things were okay between us. I needed his friendship.

I could pretend I liked him only because there was no one else around, but there was something about him. Something hard to resist. He was overpoweringly masculine yet incredibly sensitive. It was a dangerous combination. A dangerous, alluring, tempting combination. I staunchly refused to compare Chet to Reed—there was no point; I was happy with Reed—but an unwanted voice at the back of my mind whispered it was because I knew who’d win, and it wasn’t who I wanted.

Or was it?

Despite my best-laid plans, I hadn’t bumped into Chet in town, which I’d hoped would give me the perfect opportunity to gauge his feelings. Nor had I worked up the nerve to call him. I figured if I was aiming to cross paths with him, my best shot was at church. If I sat close enough to him to unavoidably run into him after the service, I’d get my excuse to talk to him. I had no doubt it would be awkward. I’d rejected him and had probably wounded his pride. He had every right to feel hurt. I just hoped . . .

I hoped for the impossible. That things would go back to the way they’d been before. But I’d settle for saying sorry. Which was another reason I was hell-bent on going to church this morning. If you couldn’t make amends at church, where could you?

Carmina and I rode together. Climbing out of her truck, I straightened my skirt and squared my shoulders. Here goes nothing.

As we walked to the doors, we passed the marquee sign on the lawn. FORBIDDEN FRUITS CREATE MANY JAMS.

Talk about a guilt trip. No one knew I’d kissed Chet, certainly not Reed, certainly not any of the congregation, but just the same. I couldn’t help but glance around nervously, half expecting to see huddled groups whispering and pointing at me like I was some kind of twenty-first-century Hester Prynne.



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