Page 19 of Ly to Me

“Can I help you?” I let the southern twang fill my throat and nose as I batted my lashes.

He grinned, dragging a tattoo-covered hand through his brown hair. “Can I helpyou?” Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, I shuddered in my seat.

“I’m fine. Almost home.”Homewas far from what I’d called Carver’s house.

His eyes flicked down to my chest as he smacked his teeth. “Only one house I know of on this road and it’s all the way down at the end. You a Hughes?”

Hughes?That must be Jamie’s last name. “No. Just visiting him.”

“Ahh. Is that right?” He mumbled to himself as he started searching for something in his car.

“Yeah.” My nails dug into my thighs.

The guy stopped digging through his glove box. “What are you wagering tonight?”

“Excuse me?”

The laugh he gave sent more ice through my limbs. “Poker night at the house. The guys didn’t tell you?”

“Oh, yeah. That.” I’d had no clue, but flipped my hair over my shoulder like I knew about it.

Scooping a finger-full of dip out, he shoved it between his gum and bottom lip. He was good-looking. Too good-looking to be ruining his teeth with dip. Then again, there I was with a half pack of cigarettes at my side. “You sure you’re with Jamie?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Huh.” I could hear his truck’s gears shift out of park, and my nails stopped assaulting my thigh. “Wonder how many Carver invited. You don’t have a friend in there?”

“No.” I shrugged, evaluating the pristine paint on his truck, thinking about how pretty my keys could make it. He may have meant well. He may even be a decent guy, but most men, if not all, made a beast come alive inside me.

“Right.” He sucked on his dip, showing a flash of teeth that weren’t the slightest bit yellow. “Just remember—any wager is acceptable.” He winked, then drove off in the same direction I was supposed to be heading.

I rolled my head to the side and pressed the window button, allowing the glass to glide over the top of my head as it closed. If Sophia were here, she’d tell me to suck it the fuck up and do what I have to do, even if she had no clue what that was. There weren’t many people I’d let my walls down for, and while I drovetoward the one who knocked every brick down, I tried not to call the other, knowing exactly what her response would be.

Suck it the fuck up, Lyra Thomas.

Trucks dotted the driveway, or more like filled it. Jamie’s back flashed through one of the living room windows, and I grabbed the bags before getting out and walking up to the front porch.

Music and smoke consumed my senses as I stepped through the door without knocking. Two men with cards in their hands froze, the one from earlier tilting a beer bottle against his lips. But their attention on me was only a fraction of what I felt when Carver turned in his seat and slid his blue eyes to mine, then to my bag. He rubbed the side of his jaw, then somehow managed to appear more pissed off as Jamie entered the room.

“Ay, there she is!” The guy from the white truck that was littered with a dozen or more country boy stickers pulled out the empty chair between him and Carver. “Saved you a seat, pretty thing.” That palpable, stone-cold anger written all over Car’s face intensified.

I smiled, eyeing the only other woman in the room who promptly sat on Jamie’s lap. He cleared his throat, his body visibly tensing. Now I understood the guy’s confusion when I said I was there for Jamie. Guess he was already spoken for tonight.

I let my sweet smile broaden. “You saved me a seat? You’re so sweet.” I dropped my bag right by Carver’s feet, then slid into the chair and tapped the guy’s forearm, letting my finger stay a bitlonger than simply being friendly allowed for. “You never even gave me your name.”

“You know him?” Jamie asked, the woman in his lap oblivious to the dejected tone he was using.

I dragged my finger from his forearm to the table. “We met down the road at a stop sign. Little lady stopped too long, probably checking her makeup.” Another guy across from us gave me a quick once-over with his hazel eyes, then gave a single nod as if what the other man said I was doing made total sense, though makeup had been far from my mind.

Sexist assholes.

The guy beside me slung his arm over the back of my chair. “I’m Grant. And you are…”

“Lyra,” Carver answered for me, glaring at Grant’s arm.

“Lyra, do you want me to teach you how to play?” I blinked at the cards, refraining from letting him know I already knew how.

Probably better than he could.