Page 31 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Lyra

The Bitch

T he bar was just as quaint as I remembered—a small, wooden building with a raised front porch and a corrugated tin roof. I’d never actually been inside and had only driven past it a few times with Car when we were younger.

Each time we saw it, he’d light up with pride, like he was doing now as he parked the truck, facing the building.

“They kept the name.” I tipped my head toward the red neon Roland’s sign glowing across the front.

“Yeah.”

“It’s busy.” The parking lot was nearly full. The fact that Car had gotten a spot right up front must have been sheer luck.

“People like to dance in this town,” he answered, like that should have been obvious. Like, had I stayed, I would’ve known that. If only he knew how different my life would have been if I’d done just that.

“Stay,” he commanded, then got out of the truck and walked to my door, opening it and holding out a hand for me.

I jutted my chin away from him and hopped out, acting like I didn’t see his hand. He chuckled and let me walk past him, then slid his hand over the small of my back, guiding me in.

“Just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean you have to touch me all the time.”

I could hear the grin on his lips as he said, “The whole town would expect me to be touching my wife at all times.”

I rolled my eyes, then waited to respond until he opened the door. “Right, I almost forgot—you’ve slept with the entire town.”

I braced myself for the door to slam in my face, for Car’s fingers to be around my throat and my back to be pressed into the outer wall, regardless of the people who could now see us clearly in the doorway.

Instead, his hand wrapped around my waist possessively, pulling me closer to him as his lips grazed the shell of my ear.

“Keep up that jealousy, wife . It’s sexy as hell.”

I glowered at him over my shoulder. “Oh, please. Jealousy is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Sometimes, I really love it when you lie.” His other hand brushed down my spine, finding the hem of my dress and snaking up it. My lips parted as he palmed my ass. “But the only lying you’ll be doing later tonight will be on your back while I’m making you scream my name.”

Wicked laughter hummed along my skin as he kissed my neck, making it more sensitive. My eyes darted around the crowded space, expecting to find more attention on us with how handsy Car was being, but only found some brunette woman in the corner glaring our way.

“I’m going to the restroom.” I bolted for the bathroom sign in the back, weaving in and out of couples and wait staff carrying drinks.

When I reached the bathroom, I pressed my palms to the door, throwing a glance over my shoulder.

Car was leaning against the bar top, gaze dark and heated and set on me as if no one else was in the bar.

Looking at someone like that in public should be outlawed. But clearly he was here to prove a point—he owned me. And he wanted everyone else to know that, too. Not just me.

The door swung open from the inside, and I fell through, landing on my hands and knees.

“Oh, sorry! Let me help you.” French manicured toes covered in red strappy heels, along with a woman’s hand, filled my vision.

“Thanks,” I said, taking her hand, allowing her to help me up. Right as I braced on my knee, she released me, sending me back to the ground.

“Whoopsie.” A maniacal giggle echoed in the dank space. “Clumsy me.”

“No worries.” She took a step back as I stood, leveling her shrewd face with mine.

Covered in red from head to toe, the woman looked familiar.

It took me a second to realize it was the same woman who watched Car and I enter the bar.

The same woman who’s glower and obvious disdain cut through the crowd of people.

“Did you follow me in here?” I asked.

“What?” She pressed her fingers on her chest, pretending to be taken aback. “Why ever would I—”

“Cut the shit. I saw you when I came in.”

“When he came in, you mean,” she corrected, dropping her arm, letting a sharp sneer twist her thin lips. “You were just the thing he tugged along for the night.”

Ah . “You know Car?”

“Car?” She evaluated every inch of my skin, a disturbing smile taking over that sneer of hers as she lingered on my boots. “That’s cute. He tell you to call him that?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

She picked at her nails, like my looks had said enough about me and she’d grown bored. Then, she shrugged. “I prefer calling him daddy , but I guess Car makes sense, in a lazy kind of way. It isn’t nearly as sexy, though.”

My nails dug into my arms, wanting nothing more than to swing at her pointed face. “I’m sure he thinks having a daddy issue is real sexy.”

She scoffed. “We’ll see. It will be me leaving the bar with him tonight. Not you. You’re just…just some random thing he found on the side of the road, I’m sure.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged and moved to stand in front of the mirror, fixing the hair he paid to have dyed back to normal, then glanced at her hair through the glass.

He didn’t dye it back because of her, did he?

“I bet you can’t handle what he has to offer,” she said, trying to goad me further. Cleary, my fuck off face was broken lately.

“Dunno. Don’t really care.” I smiled at her through the mirror and rubbed my middle finger over my bottom lip, adjusting a non-existent smudge. She scoffed again as her eyes fixed on my finger.

“I’ll be the one on his arm leaving in his truck tonight,” she insisted.

“The truck I fucked him in?” I cocked my head, waiting for her reply.

The woman’s eyes turned to fine slits before nearly shrieking, “Liar!” The door ripped open, and I let a minute or two pass before following behind her, knowing exactly where she was heading.

Sure enough, the woman hadn’t wasted a second. Her tight red dress was now riding up even higher than it had been in the bathroom, only now she was leaning against the bar top, right in front of Carver. His eyes locked onto mine, then moved down to the sway of my hips as I neared.

I stopped a few seats down from where Carver stood and plastered on the smile most men fawned over, turning to the first man I could.

“Hey there, big boy. Wanna dance?” The random guy swiveled in his seat to face me and grinned, continuing his perusal mostly between my chest and lips.

When his eyes reached mine, they continued further up above me, then widened, like he was terrified.

“Roger.” Car’s voice came out deep and thick behind me as rough fingers circled my biceps. “I see you met my wife.”

“Wife?” Roger swallowed, and I nudged my elbow into Car’s gut, which did nothing but point out how fucking built he was. Hitting him was like ramming into stone.

“Yes.” Carver slid a hand down to my waist. “My wife, Lyra Roland.”

Roger squinted, like he was trying to find the truth in that statement, then fanned his fingers between us, shaking them furiously. “You got it all wrong. She came up to me, Carver. I didn’t do any—”

“Excuse Lyra, she was probably going to ask you for a cigarette.”

“Was not,” I muttered.

Carver tsked, his grip on me unmoving as I tried to jerk away. “Gorgeous thing won’t quit.”

Roger slowly patted his pockets. “I don’t have one, little lady.

Think I left them in my truck. Sorry.” The rectangle protruding from his jean pocket said otherwise, but that hadn’t been what I wanted, anyway.

He swiveled away quickly, picking up his glass and chugging half of the amber liquid inside.

I turned in Carver’s hold and glared up at him. “Why would you go and say that?”

His head tipped to the side. “That you’re my wife, or that you’re quitting?”

“Both. And where’s that bitch you were talkin’ to?”

He grinned. “Bitch?”

“Yeah, the girl in red with the fake tits and no lips,” I rushed out. “I’m not going to start calling you daddy , by the way.”

His face dropped as he murmured, “Fucking hell, Ly.”

“I’m serious, I won’t.”

He dragged me into the middle of the dancefloor and quickly positioned his hands on my waist, pulling me as close as he could.

“Tell me what she said to you.”

“Is she the one making you like this? Is she the reason you dyed my fucking hair back? All so I could look like her?”

Anger morphed his face as his body swayed with the song, forcing me along with him. “No.”

I searched the room for that same shade of red. The second I found her staring at us from across the room, my eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck is she?”

His fingers gripped my chin, dragging my focus back to him. “No one important.”

I grabbed a chunk of my hair. “ This tells me otherwise.” His jaw worked, gaze hardening on the strands. “If you needed someone to marry so badly, I’m sure she would have been a more viable option.”

“Ly,” he warned. “Don’t.”

“And the boobs, I mean—” I hissed the words as I palmed my breasts, right there in the middle of the dancefloor. If anyone was gawking, I didn’t give a fuck. “I don’t have that. If you wanted a rack like that, you should have put it in the contract.”

“Ly.”

“ Article 6: Must get a boob job. But don’t worry, Daddy Carver will pay for that, too.”

“Ly,” he said so low, so foreboding, my stomach dropped. Someone raised the music higher, forcing more people to the dancefloor. Car’s eyes narrowed on a few people, probably whoever was left staring—I didn’t know.

All I saw was red, like that bitch’s dress and high-heeled shoes.

One hand slipped from my waist, trailing up the curve of my neck, then spearing into my hair.

“ This”— he tugged, yanking my head back—“was why she was useful for all of one night.” The hand around my waist fell to my ass.

“ This body is all I could picture while I used her and anyone else in this damn town.” My breath caught in my chest as he dipped down, hovering his lips above mine.

“And if you ever call me daddy , I’ll have to choke the words from your throat.

I’m not your fucking dad, Lyra. I’m your husband . ”