Page 22 of Goode to Be Bad

I blinked at him. “You’re Lucas?”

He nodded. “Sure as shit, sweetheart.”

Myles and Mom spoke in synch while looking from Lucas to me and back again: “Oh shit.”

“Donotcall me sweetheart.” I set my bag down and crossed to face him across the island. “Let’s just get one thing straight right now, Lucas—I am not your sweetheart or your babe or yourdarlin’—” I gave the word a thick drawl. “I’m not your honey or your sugar. My name is Lex, or Lexie. That’s it. Got me, Mr. Muscles?”

He blinked at me, that same wry grin on his face. “Yeah, I got you.” He eyed Mom. “Your firecracker daughter lives up to the hype, Liv.”

“I did warn you, Lucas. So did Cass, and so has Charlie.”

“Hey, it’s an old habit and I’m an old dog. Hard to change some things.”

I frowned at Mom. “You guyswarnedhim about me?”

Mom shrugged. “Sure. You’re…well, honey, you’re sometimes somewhat…I don’t want to say difficult. Just…sharp-tongued and highly opinionated. There’s nothing wrong with being opinionated, mind you.”

I was hurt. People had beenwarnedabout me? “Am I really that…caustic?”

Mom smiled, but it was a little sad. “I love you, and I accept you for exactly who you are, Alexandra. But yes, you can be a little caustic sometimes.”

That stung.

Aaaand…cue the irrational explosion of unreasoning anger.

“Cool.” I nodded. I felt the emotion bubbling, tried to restrain it, and lost… hopelessly. “Super cool. I’m a caustic bitch whom my mom and sisters have to warn people about. Cool.” I felt it pop—the cork on my anger. “Fuck you.” I pointed at Mom and at Lucas in turn. “Fuck you, fuck you…” I paused on Myles. “Fuck you, too. Not sure why, but I’ll find something. So fuck you, too.”

I left my purse and my duffel bag on the floor of Mom’s kitchen and stomped out of the condo—shaking with anger, gut churning, hands trembling, heart cracked and mind splintering.

I heard Mom— “Let her go, Myles. It’ll be a while before she cools off enough to be capable of rational conversation.”

That didn’t help. Mainly because it was the truth.

I shoved the door of the condo building open and walked out into a spattering of cold rain. “FUCK!” I shouted at the sky. “FUCK YOU for raining on me.”

Screw it.

I walked on, heedless of the cold and wet. Not caring that it was soaking my white shirt, turning it sheer, so my lace camisole was on show—an undergarment that provided little or no concealment or support. I also had no idea where I was going. I didn’t know Mom’s building or unit number. Also, my phone was back there in my purse and, I’d never been to Ketchikan before.

They don’t call it unreasoning rage for nothing—my reason was shot to hell.

I stomped through puddles, feeling my hair stick to my forehead, cheeks, and chin. Feeling my shirt stick to my skin. Feeling the cold and wet make my nipples stand out as hard as bullets.

Caustic?

Opinionated? Sharp-tongued?

Difficult?

A fresh burst of anger detonated inside me, and I snarled out loud. “I’mnotfuckingDIFFICULT!” I screamed at the heavy, dark gray sky and the silver screen of hazy, blowing rain. Which was not a spatter anymore, but a torrential downpour.

I felt him.

How, I couldn’t say, but I felt him.

I spun on my heel, saw Myles a few yards behind me, just walking, following. Keeping his distance. Soaked and sexier than ever for it—pale, ripped blue jeans, a tight black T-shirt now pasted to his body like a second skin over his shredded torso. Battered brown leather Doc Martens. His ball cap, with some football team logo on the front, had rain dripping from the brim.

“What?” I shouted. “What the fuck doyouwant?”