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“Yeah, that’s a good school. What are you studying?”
“Marketing.”
“Really?” His eyebrows rise, and then he eyes my tats again. “You’re not the typical businessman type.”
“I’m aware,” I say dryly. I had to declare a major and had no idea what to do. My counselor suggested something in business since I couldn’t very well take mechanics. Trade school would suit me better, but those schools don’t have Division I baseball.
“Hmm, I hope you take it seriously. The odds for becoming a professional baseball player aren’t in your favor.”
“Bobby,” Cassie says while slapping his arm.
“What, it’s true.” He turns to me. “I’m sure you’re aware.”
“I’m quite aware.” Anger rolls off me. Yeah, I’m aware, asshole. Why the fuck do you think I’m stuck in this Podunk town instead of some minor league team? But I don’t say any of that. I’m too busy watching him wrap his arm possessively around Cassie’s waist.
I would ask where he’s been, but I don’t want to make small talk.
He pulls her into an embrace, and it’s all I can do to keep from prying his hands away from what should be mine. She belongs with me. Regardless of how better she is or how opposite we are, we belong together. There was more passion in her eyes as she stared at me sixty seconds ago. I don’t care how long they’ve been together. By the time summer ends, she’ll be back in my arms. And this time, she won’t get away.
I replace the cap on my water bottle and sidestep around them.
Cassie calls after me, “Where are you going?”
“For a run.”
And that’s what I do. Cassie lives about a mile away from the beach. One of my favorite things to do is to run along the coastline. It’s been a few years since I’ve done it. Once my feet hit the sand, I continue to run, formulating a plan on how to win her back from Preppy Boy.
Chapter Nine
CASSIE
I flinchas Dalton slams the front door. The sound reverberates off the walls like sharp lobster claws pinching my chest. This is so not how I envisioned Dalton finding out about Bobby.Gah, I can’t stop picturing that look of hurt flashing in his eyes.
“You’re early.” My voice is sharper than intended, which isn’t fair to Bobby, but I needed a few more minutes. Then maybe Dalton wouldn’t have been caught off guard. I could’ve prepared him for Bobby’s onslaught of questions.
“I couldn’t wait any longer. Four months is a long time to be away.” Bobby wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. I fight the urge to wiggle free.
But the arms I sought refuge in for the past couple of years feel wrong.
I’m not being fair to him. It’s not as if Bobby’s a bad guy. He’s the total package on paper: good-looking, caring, and intelligent. And Dad approved. Having the same religious beliefs as me doesn’t hurt either. Heck, he’s practically a poster boy for boyfriend material. I wasn’t allowed to date until I graduated high school. And even when I started college, Dad had to approve of the guy.
That limited the dating pool. For real. Who wants to bring a guy home for approval?
I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t do that to Mom. I didn’t want her to worry—not with everything she had going on. Then, after she had a bad spell, Bobby was there to comfort me. We’ve been friends forever, so it was only natural that I leaned on him. We were officially boyfriend and girlfriend after.
Mom and Dad couldn’t have been more thrilled. I was numb.
“So, tell me about Peru.” I back away and walk over to the couch. He glances around nervously. I bite back a sigh. “Dad’s not home. He’s at the hospital with Mr. Barley’s family.”
This information doesn’t make him relax, but I don’t miss the concern he shows for Mr. Barley. Losing church members is always hard. I fill him in with what info I have as we settle in the couch cushions.
“Sounds like your dad will be tied up for a while. I won’t stay long.”
“It’s fine, Bobby. I think we’re past the need for a chaperone.” Frustration laces the edges of my tone, and I don’t know why. It would be better if he left. But I know he’s serious.
“Cassie, remember your place. You know I’m right,” he chides.
My lips press into a thin line, but I nod, knowing that’s what he expects. “Sorry, but Dad trusts you.”
