Bad Boy Best Friend - Hope Ford Page 0,18
message received. She’s all yours, man,” he says, crossing his hands over his crotch like he’s blocking a kick.
I kick the office door shut and look back down at the text message I’ve written out. There’s no way I can send it. I saw the look of fear take the place of the passion she’d had in her eyes.
When she left my office I felt such a stab of pain and terror at the realization that I’d just fucked up so badly I might’ve lost my best friend forever. She kissed me back but then she pulled away and left.
I erase the text and write instead, I’m fine. We need to talk. Call me.
The nervous energy makes me feel more nauseous than a kick to the nads. I go and work in the garage, keeping my cellphone close by so I can answer when Laney calls.
“Night, boss,” Mike says, waving his hand to get my attention. “It’s an hour past closing. I’ll lock the front office up so you’ll only have the garage to lock up when you finish.”
“Thanks,” I say as I pick up my phone.
No text messages or missed calls.
As soon as I see Mike drive away, I call Laney’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Come on. I text her to call me and can see that the texts are delivered but not being read. She might’ve turned off her phone or maybe it died.
I decide to call her parents’ house when her phone still goes straight to voicemail an hour later.
“Hello?” Jerry answers.
“Hi Mr. Gowen, is Laney around? I tried her phone, but she’s not picking up.”
Her father makes a snorting sound. “Mr. Gowen? You haven’t called me that since you were in high school.”
“Sorry, Jerry.”
“That’s all right. Guess it seems like old times—”
I don’t mean to cut him off but I’m really wanting an answer about Laney. “Is Laney okay?”
“Oh… yeah. She went to bed early with a bit of a headache. I bet she turned her phone off so she wouldn’t be disturbed. I’ll tell her you called in the morning.”
Frustration builds, and I slap my hand across the tool chest. “Thanks, Jerry. Sorry to interrupt your evening. Have a good one. Bye.”
I walk over and close the garage doors and lock them up as I think over the excuse Jerry gave me over and over in my head. Maybe she did have a headache. I don’t think so though.
Laney
I take an extra-long shower trying to ease the angst from my muscles after tossing and turning all night.
What the hell was I thinking kissing him like that?
Toweling off my wet hair, I look in the mirror, mentally yelling at myself for crossing the line. If I’d been thinking straight I would have taken a step back when he’d invaded my space. I would have talked to him like a friend, not a girlfriend. No wonder everything got so messed up so fast.
How am I ever going to get things back to the way they were after I pressed my breasts against him like that? I can almost still feel the warmth and hardness of his body against mine and it’s the next day!
The ink is barely dry on my broken engagement! What is wrong with me?
“Austin called for you last night,” my dad tells me when I come down from my room around eight. “You’re up early for a Saturday.”
“What did he say?” I ask.
Something in my tone of voice must have been off because my dad turns to look at me before he answers. “He said he wanted to check on you and that your phone was off. Why? Did something happen yesterday?”
“No, nothing,” I answer, but he clearly doesn’t believe me. “Well, there was a big disagreement with a customer. Things got heated-” My eyes widen as I blush at my choice of words. “Loud. You’ll probably hear about it when you go into town.”
“That loud, huh?” Dad asks. “Did the customer yell at you? Who was it?”
Oh boy, that’s all I need, another overprotective male.
“Not at me. I was there, but the fight was between Austin and the customer.”
My dad gestures like he wants the full scoop so I tell him as little as I can. “Someone made a comment about me and Austin didn’t like it. Things got physical and well, that was it.”
“Who was it?” he demands.
“Nobody, Dad. Austin took care of it. You don’t need to worry about it.”
My dad shakes his head. “Austin always hung with rough