Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security #3) - Marie James Page 0,22

the point. Either of those last two captions would be more fitting.

But the tabloids never get it right. The truth hardly ever sells better than the lies they generate.

Unable to stay around the house while my parents are here and ignoring me, I fire off a couple of texts in desperation looking for some other place to be besides here.

***

The music in the house is loud enough to literally change the rhythm of my heart. Less than a year ago, I lived for nights like this. House parties are a little more intimate, a little more controlled than clubs and I could drink without a fake ID. I could snort lines off the coffee table with limited risk of it ending up on the front page of STAR magazine or as a plug on TMZ.

Tonight, however, the entire vibe just feels off. I’m no stranger to drugs, alcohol, and strangers getting intimate in dark corners of the room.

The difference is I’m sober with no desire to change that. I don’t want to take shots with the douchey frat boys in the den. I don’t want to slip off to the bathroom to snort lines with Sasha because her boyfriend is on her ass about her drug use while he does keg stands and pops various pills. I don’t even want to be here, but here is better than home.

“Don’t feel bad!” Sasha yells over the din surrounding us. “Just bring some next time.”

She must’ve found someone to accompany her to the bathroom because she’s grinning up at me with pinpoint pupils.

“I no longer do drugs,” I remind her, not for the first time tonight, and it only makes her smile wider.

“Me either.” She makes some sort of scout sign I’m certain is wrong and holds it to her forehead. “Sober as a judge.”

I nod, giving her a fake smile. Stepping around her, I walk toward the front door without saying goodbye. She wouldn’t remember it if I did. This was a very bad idea, and how I managed to sneak away from my house without Flynn catching me, I don’t know.

“You ready to go home now?”

I startle, my hands coming up to my chest when he speaks.

Even in the moonlight, he looks like a bad-boy mafia boss. He’s dressed too nice for this part regardless of the social status of the people inside.

“Do you ever wear jeans?”

His head tilts to the side as he watches me walk down the steps toward him.

“Jeans? Not often. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering if you’re always so serious all the time.”

“I take my work seriously.”

I know he does, but I still can’t get the sound of his laugh from last night out of my head. I want to hear more of it. I want to know how he looks when he’s completely vegged out and relaxed.

“How did you find me?”

A small smile plays on his lips as he ignores my question, and I feel like I’ve won some sort of exclusive contest. Have I ever seen a smile from him? Not that I can recall. My night just got a million times better.

“I don’t want to go home.”

He doesn’t frown, but he steps back when I try to inch closer to him. I struggle, swallowing down the lump of disappointment in my throat.

“No one said you have to go home, but I’d prefer it if you weren’t at a party filled with drugs and alcohol. Are you struggling?”

I give him credit for not assuming I went in there and drank or used drugs. “Not really, but I don’t want to stay. This really isn’t my scene anymore.”

“Let’s find something else to do then.” He sweeps his arm in the direction of the street where I find my car idling.

He opens my door, just like he always has, and I’m thankful he assumes I’m going to sit in front with him rather than the back. I try not to read too much into it because thinking he wants me up front and closer to him would make my mind spin with all sorts of ideas I don’t think entertaining would be healthy. I pull my seatbelt and latch it as he settles into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t say a word as he pulls away from the curb and begins driving.

Classic rock plays through the speakers quietly as he makes his way out of the ritzy neighborhood, and he doesn’t initiate conversation either. Somehow, the near silence isn’t uncomfortable, and I’m left wondering if trusting him