All-American Princess - Maggie Dallen Page 0,15

and his friends into action. “I’d better go help them,” he said, shoving some of that dirty blond hair off his forehead.

All those gossip rags were wrong. He wasn’t the spitting image of his father. Brandon was better looking. It was hard to imagine that possible, but there you had it. The guy had his father’s crystal blue eyes along with his chiseled jaw, but he had a softness about him too. Maybe it was his lips. Something that softened the ruggedness just enough and added an element of the sensual.

I bit my lip as I watched him climb up out of the lake, his muscles glinting in the late afternoon sun.

Oh yeah. Playing the part of his girlfriend would most definitely not be a problem.

I watched Brandon and his friends work for a bit before following after them. I wasn’t exactly excited to go back to making small-town chitchat with that group of catty witches he called girl friends.

Could I blame them for being jealous of the hottie new girl? Obviously not. Still, having to put up with them wasn’t nearly as fun as flirting with Brandon.

I took my sweet time following him out of the lake, well aware of the eyeful I was giving every guy at this lame ho-down. I couldn’t help myself. I mean, if these girls were going to be jealous, I might as well give them a reason, right?

All eyes were on me. Guys and girls alike. I even caught gentlemanly Brandon sneaking a peek, but it was Jack’s gaze that burned my skin. His eyes were dark, and his gaze scorching.

I tried to ignore it.

I tried to ignore him.

But it was impossible not to notice the way he stared at me. When my eyes met his, I looked away quickly, but not quickly enough.

There was desire there in his eyes but something else as well. Something far less pleasant.

Judgement.

I tilted my chin up further and hoisted myself onto the shore. I reached for the clothes I’d discarded along with a towel.

Soaked. All of it. My clothes were drenched, and the towel was dripping. I stared down at the soggy pile and shivered. The sun was rapidly sinking below the horizon, and the breeze that had earlier been a relief nipped at my wet skin and made goosebumps rise on my arms.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

No, the worst part was the stinging sensation at the back of my eyes.

What the hell was this? I wasn’t a crier. I didn’t cry. I blinked rapidly, keenly aware of the fact that everyone was watching me.

But not like before. Even with my head tilted down, I could feel it. The barely suppressed laughter, the smug smiles, the judgy censor.

They were laughing at me.

I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat, and my mind raced to think of something biting to say, something that could put these hillbilly a-holes in their place.

No words came.

Of all the times to lose that trademark Devereaux snark. But this was a first for me. No one in their right mind would think to humiliate me like this back in Beverly Hills. No one messed with the daughter of Hollywood royalty.

Not if they expected to live.

Okay, fine. Not if they expected to work again or be admitted into the best clubs or the most exclusive parties, or—

“Here.”

A dark gray hoodie was thrust unceremoniously into my line of vision. I glanced up to see Jack scowling down at me. What the hell. Like this was my fault?

I snatched the hoodie out of his hands, and that’s when I heard it.

The snickering. The whispers.

Sadly, it was preferable to the silence.

I clenched my jaw as my eyes met Jack’s. There was a flicker of something else there, beneath that angry scowl.

Pity.

“Were you expecting a thank you?” I snapped as I slipped my arms into the sleeves and pulled it tight around me.

It came out even harsher than I’d intended. But right about now, I didn’t care. This guy was one of them. One of these weirdo, mouth-breathing, backwoods morons who had the nerve to think that they could get the best of me.

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t do what I would have done. He didn’t laugh at me, and he didn’t walk away in the face of my anger. He just kept watching me, standing in front of me so his much larger frame blocked the others’ view.

I dropped my head and stared at my bare feet. I wished he’d say something. Tell