Page 55 of Backlash

“Don’t let that fool you,” I warn her, angling my mouth over hers. “I’m thinking very dirty things about you. I might need a second study session.”

“That can be arranged.”

I nip her lower lip. “We should be careful or I’m going to wind up pinning you to the hood of this car.”

“Campus is deserted.”

I groan at the invitation in her voice. “Seriously?”

She laughs, shaking her head and loosening her makeshift bun. “There’s no way you could get these pants off, remember?”

“I am willing to try.” I hook my index finger in her waistband and tug her closer. I kiss her slowly, savoring one final taste of her.

“I’m going to miss you,” she confesses. “I think I’d rather do Thanksgiving at the Eaton than my house, but Daddy would throw a fit.”

“I’m a phone call away,” I promise.

“Will you call me?” she asks. “I’d like to hang out with you and Francie, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“Sure,” I say swiftly, but I don’t know if I’m telling the truth.

She slides into her car and blows me a kiss. I watch as she drives off, feeling like my own heartbeat grows fainter the farther aways she gets.

“Cyrus took off. He told me to tell you that his car is parked in the lot behind Tucker,” Francie says after the walk back to my room. “You were gone a while.”

“Hmmm?” I shake my head. “I mean, what?”

“You have it bad for that girl.” Francie laughs and pins me in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“It’s kinda off again, on again,” I admit.

“I want to know everything,” Francie demands. “But first, what is this about not staying here?”

“Cyrus thought you might be more comfortable if we stayed at his family’s place. They own a hotel in Nashville, but they’re going to be out of town.” I fill her in on the details as we make our way to the parking lot.

Francie packed light. She has to, in order to avoid baggage fees. My stuff fits easily in one duffel bag. There’s only one car left in the lot. Francie stops when we reach the edge of the sidewalk.

“Wait, your friend is letting you drive that?” She stares at the BMW.

“Yeah, he loaned it to me a couple of times.”

Francie raises her eyebrow so far it disappears behind the coil of her bangs. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Usually, I am the designated driver,” I explain, “and I drove Adair to the hospital in it once.”

“I think you better start catching me up.” Francie pauses at the passenger door even after I open it for her.

“It’s okay, really,” I tell her. “Cyrus is an okay guy.”

“He must be.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.

I fill her in on the night I met Adair, leaving out the nastier fights we’d had along the way. Francie isn’t the type to take sides, but I want her to like Adair. More importantly, I’d rather she not know about some of the bad choices I’ve made since coming to Valmont.

“That poor girl,” Francie says quietly when we pull into the circular drive of the Eaton. “Her first Thanksgiving without her mama. You make sure you check in with her.”

“I will.”

A parking valet opens her door. “Welcome to the Eaton, ma’am.”