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“Can we please just cut the small talk and get straight to whatever the hell it is you want me to do?” I bite out bitterly.
He straightens, adjusting the leather bands covering his wrists. “Will you relax? I’m not going to have you do anything bad.”
“I highly doubt that.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “And besides, who said my bad mood has anything to do with you?”
A pucker forms between his brows. “You act like I’d be upset me if it wasn’t about me.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t get off on pissing me off.”
He rubs his lips together, wrestling back a smile. “Okay, maybe I do get off on it a little.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you do. I knew that from the moment I met you.”
“That I’d get off on pissing you off?” His amusement magnifies.
“No, that you’re the kind of guy who gets off on pissing girls off.”
His smile dissolves. “That’s not who I am at all.”
“Liar.” Sure, I may have discovered last night he didn’t slash my tires or put up those flyers, but that doesn’t erase the times he’s purposely tried to grate under my skin. “You’re totally the type of guy to get off on getting girls riled up. I can tell.”
He shakes his head, strands of blond hair falling into his eyes. “Nope. I actually just do it with you.”
My lip twitches in annoyance. “Why? Because I rejected you the first time we met? If so, that’s really fucked up.”
He gives a nonchalant shrug, his posture a bit stiff. “It wasn’t just because of the rejection.”
“Then, what else was it about?” I pry, curious if it has to do with why Alex loathes my family. If it has anything to do with my dad working for their dad.
All he does is offer me another shrug and, “You just bring that side out of me, I guess.”
“So, you’re putting the blame on me?”
“No. What I’m saying is that you do seem to get off on pissing me off, too.”
My mouth opens with a comeback, but then I zip my lips shut, realizing he’s right. “Okay, maybe I do … a bit.”
“Hmmm …” He rubs his jawline. “I wonder why that is.” His tone carries insinuation. Why, who the hell knows?
I give a nonchalant shrug. “Probably because you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met,” he quips. Then he steps aside and motions for me to come in. “So, stubborn girl, quit stalling and come inside so you can complete your first favor.”
I step over the threshold, arching my brow at him as I pass. “Please don’t say you’re going to start calling me stubborn girl now.”
He bumps the door shut. “You wanted me to stop calling you sweetheart, didn’t you?”
I waver my head from side to side. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He smiles as he lightly tugs on a stand of my hair. “So, stubborn girl it is.” Then he takes off toward a hallway. “I’ll be right back. I just have to grab my stuff.”
Before I can ask what he’s grabbing, he disappears down the hallway.
I’m left standing alone in his living room, which is surprisingly clean. The furniture is decent, too, way better than anything my family owns. The Portersons also have a flat screen television, an item my family hasn’t owned in a while, ever since my dad took ours and pawned it. He tried to lie about it when I confronted him, but I found the receipt in his pocket while I was doing the laundry. He never would admit what he did with the extra cash, which I guess is kind of his MO. Well, that and getting drunk.
Talk about a great father figure.
Sighing audibly, I trudge over to the sofa to sit down when Rhyland comes wandering into the room, carrying a bowl of cereal. His hair is damp, as if he just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing black jeans and a blue T-shirt.
Huh. So they do own different colored clothing.
He pauses mid-bite when his gaze lands on me. “Hey.” He lowers the spoon from his mouth and wipes a dribble off milk off his chin with the back of his hand. “You’re here early.”
“Because I was ordered to be.” My tone comes out light instead of bitter, like I was aiming for.
Man, I really must be tired.
He smiles, relaxing as he plops down on the leather sofa and kicks his feet up onto the table. “Glad to see you’re being chill about the bet.” He stuffs another bite of cereal into his mouth then pats the cushion, indicating for me to sit down. “Alex thought you’d bail out of this whole favors thing.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a seat. “Of course he did.”
“I didn’t, though,” Rhyland clarifies with an easy smile.
I twist to face him, bringing my knee up onto the cushion between us. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
He raises a shoulder. “You don’t seem like the type to back down. Yesterday proves that.”
“True.” I can’t tell if he’s insulting me or not.
“That’s a good thing,” he assures me, as if reading my mind. “At least, I think so.” He rotates, facing me. “I have to say, after watching you race, I definitely think you should start racing on weekends.”
“Why?” I question. “I didn’t even win against your brother.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got mad skills. Seriously, a lot of people would’ve overcorrected when they hit that patch of gravel, but you handled it like a fucking boss.”
I shrug, my stomach getting queasy at the reminder of how I almost walked in my mom’s footsteps yesterday. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“With almost skidding road?” he teases with a smile.
I roll my tongue in my mouth, trying not to smile back. “No, with racing.”
His phone buzzes from inside his pocket, and he digs it out. “How long have you been doing it?” he asks, frowning at something on the screen.
I wonder wha
t’s on his phone that’s got him looking all Charlie Brown.
“Since I got my driver’s license. But I started going to drag races when I was, like, four.” There I go again. Talking about my life aloud to a Porterson. Have I not learned my lesson?
His gaze elevates to mine in surprise. “Since you were four? Holy shit, that’s young.”
A slow breath eases from my lips. “My mom was into it and wanted me to be into it, too. Guess it worked.”
“She was?” he asks with a hint of pity.
My chest tightens a bit. “She died a while ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “That’s got to be hard. To lose your parent at such a young age, I mean. Blaise and Jaxon’s mom died when they were both young. My mom actually raised them. Well, until Blaise was old enough to get guardianship of us. That was one of the best day of our lives.”
Wow. No wonder I couldn’t find anything online about Blaise’s mom. I feel bad for him and Jaxon, and kind of for Rhyland and Alex, too. If their eighteen-year-old brother got guardianship of them, things with their mom had to be super effed up.
“What was the best day of your life?” Blaise asks as he re-enters the room, his gaze dancing back and forth between Rhyland and me, and his lips sinking into a frown.
“The day you became my dad.” Rhyland grins as he rises to his feet.
Blaise rolls his eyes. “How many times have I told you guys not to call me that? You’re almost as old as me.”
“Which is why we do it.” Rhyland walks up to Blaise and whispers something quietly enough that I can’t hear.
Blaise grimaces, grinding his teeth from side to side. “Fine, I’ll handle it.”
“Sorry, man. I’d do it myself, but you know he won’t be as cooperative if I go.” Rhyland pats Blaise on the shoulder then smiles genuinely at me. “Thanks for talking to me this morning, Hadley. We should make it our morning routine for the next month.”
“Am I going to have to come over here every morning?” I direct my question to Blaise.
“Maybe,” he replies distractedly, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket. Then he turns for the door, nodding for me to follow.
