Page 62 of Something to Prove

“Nah, I’d let it go. I should prove myself on my own.”

“Are you nuts? Associative marketing works, Czerniak. It’s why I told you to sit for Woodrow’s interview in the first place.”

“Right, and I did.”

“On the other hand, if Clomsky has fallen on hard times or is involved with anything unsavory, you’ll need to back away. Negative association is a real bitch.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said brusquely. “Sorry, I have to let you go. I’m in the middle of something. Happy holidays, Toby. I’ll talk to you next year.”

I ended the call and stared out the snow-streaked windows.

Fuck. This could get messy.

No, I hadn’t betrayed a confidence, but I felt responsible somehow. I had to let Walker know that some intrepid PI-wannabe had cracked the code.

Soon.

Langley’s parties were either medium intensity or wild and crazy with no holds barred. This one was the latter.

Music thumped through the speakers above the sound of laughter and drunken chatter. It seemed like everyone who was still on campus was here, jockeying for space to dance in the living room, hang out in the kitchen, or smoke on the porch.

I surveyed the mess of chips and dips on the kitchen counter and the puddle of beer in front of the sink that looked like piss on the dirty tile floor. Honestly, I had no idea how Gus’s roommateput up with him. The place was well on its way to being trashed, and it wasn’t even midnight.

I scraped my thumb on the edges of the label of my beer bottle and politely nodded along with whatever the fuck the blond with bubblegum-pink lips and the plunging neckline was saying. Her tits were all kinds of distracting, but I kept my eyes on her face and resisted the urge to check the time. I wanted to go home. Badly.

And I wasn’t taking anyone with me. When Brady and Regan stumbled into the room, I pulled them into our conversation and oh, so stealthily made my escape. I spotted Gus grinding against a pretty brunet as I shrugged my jacket on and sneaked past the sea of bodies at the door. I was almost there, but?—

“Ty.”

I did a double take at Carson. “What are you doing here?”

“You know Gus. He invited everyone—even the football team. Arlo and a bunch of the guys are…well, somewhere in there.” He gestured toward the mob scene nearby.

“Oh, right. Cool. Have fun.”

I slipped outside and headed down a long driveway packed with cars. Carson followed me. Once again, a few months ago, I would have welcomed him with a knowing look and an open fly. Now…I wished he’d take a hint so this didn’t have to get weird.

“Wait up.”

“I can’t. Later.” I gave a tight smile and went to search for my Jeep, parked at the end of Langley’s street.

This section of town was called the Bluffs. It was semi-rural, and eerily quiet. On a clear night, you could see stars forever.

Fun fact: Smithton was built on a hill with the university at the center. Restaurants like Bear Depot and Vincento’s were at the bottom of the hill off Main Street with other businesses like Yoggi’s Yogurt, Coffee Cave, the market, drug store, a gazillionboutiques, and affordable student housing—which was where I lived, along with more than half the student population.

Next came the residential area where Walker lived, and beyond that was farmland. The area in between was called the Bluffs, even though it didn’t overlook anything. It was just a divide between fields of grazing cows and civilization. A perfect spot for parties if you asked Langley, since his closest neighbor was a quarter of a mile down a tree-lined road. Or murder, I supposed.

It was also ideal for clandestine hookups. Trust me, I knew what I was talking about.

Hey, this was college. I’d gone from sharing a dorm room to sharing an apartment with a teammate. Privacy was a luxury, and I understood why Carson might think the stars had aligned for a no-fuss, low-risk fuck. Over the hood of my ride or in my back seat.

Or…we could go to my place. Brady was at the party. He wouldn’t be home for hours. If I was interested. I wasn’t.

I jiggled my keys in my pocket and sighed with frustration at the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to deal with Carson, but he was on me, shoving me against the passenger side door, his warm breath on my neck as he pressed the heel of his hand on my zipper, massaging my cock through a layer of denim.

“Jesus, I want you so bad. Let me touch you, Ty. I missed this so much. I want?—”

“Whoa!” I pushed him off me with a growl. “What the fuck?”