Page 60 of Good Girls Beg

“Yes?” Should I be asking? Probably not, but the hopeful expression on his face made me put my doubts and caution aside. I might regret it, but I was in too deep now.

“Do you like tacos?” he asked.

“Of course, who doesn’t like tacos?” Fuck, was he about to ask me out?

“Great, I’ll see you around." He gave me a smile before he turned and made his way through the restaurant.

“Wha— Right. Yeah, maybe." I watched for a moment. His ass made me question my life choices, but I wasn't going to call him back and give him my number. A guy like him, he'd probably forgotten about me already.

I grabbed up my things and headed toward the door.

The bell tinkled happily as I pushed my way out. The smell of food was replaced with ocean air and a hint of incense coming from the homeware store beside the restaurant.

On the other side of that, the thump of music came from the tattoo parlor. A woman around my age, with a bevy of tattoos, her ears heavy with piercings, opened the door and stepped inside.

I was half tempted to go in and get some ink myself, but I had no idea what I'd get. I put that in the mental ‘think about it later’ basket.

I glanced up and down the wide, tree-lined street. Oak was nowhere to be seen. Of course he was. No doubt he was long gone. If I was going to knee him in the groin, it wasn't going to be right then. Shame.

I thought for a moment. It wasn't much past one. I should get to the library and get some study done. Or find myself a quiet spot on the beach to work. The warmer the weather got the more difficult it would be to find somewhere. Of course the city needed visitors and the money they brought with them, even if it cost us a peaceful piece of sand.

I tucked a stray curl behind my ear. It bounced back out.

Should I head back to the house? It should be quiet there, with all three of the men at work. I could get a few hours of study in.

Or… I bit back a smile. This might be a good time for me to search for the door to the basement while no one else was home except Shannon.

If she was distracted, I could snoop around.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

TEDDIE

Try to look like you're not up to something, I told myself.

What was it Dad used to say? Pretend you belong and no one will ask you questions. His version of fake it till you make it. It wasn't as though I didn't live here already, but sneaking around was new to me.

As was faking it.

My phone in my back pocket, I walked downstairs and into the kitchen, my arms swinging by my sides.

Very casual, I thought sarcastically. No one would notice a thing.

I relaxed my shoulders and reminded myself to stay calm.

Shannon was busy rolling out what looked like pie pastry. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, forearms covered in flour. Her attention on her work, not on me.

"Do you need any help?" I offered.

"Nah, I've got this." She brushed the back of her hand over her nose, leaving a smear of flour.

"If you're sure." I pulled a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet.

"I'm very sure," she said. "Although, that has to be the first time anyone around here has offered to help me." She glanced sideways, her eyebrows raising and falling before she looked back at the pastry dough.

"Would you accept their help?" I leaned my back against the counter, glass in hand, hoping I wouldn't tremble and slosh water on myself.

Apparently, I wasn't as good at playing cool as I'd hoped.