“Interesting,” the cop said.
A dozen swear words bubbled up inside of me as the cop shifted his gaze toward me. I’d hoped with this near-death experience, everyone would forget about the tag. No deal. The cop pulled a flashlight from his belt and shined it directly in my eyes. I used my hand to shield it off my face, which made him direct the light at my arm.
“And what’s this here?” He bent down closer to me, his free hand resting on his gun. “Looks like specks of red paint. Got a good explanation for this, son?”
There was that dread again, returning to my stomach like molten lead. Still, I smirked up at him, refusing to play his game. “That’s not paint. That’s blood.”
“Really?” He snatched my other arm and took a look at the free flowing blood from the rose bush pricks. “That here looks like blood. This looks like spray paint. I’ll bet if we take a look around those bushes, I’ll find a can with your fingerprints on it.”
I gritted my teeth, refusing to answer any more questions. Game over. With a mighty tug, he pulled me to a standing position and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Looks like you’ll be spending the night at the station,” he growled.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I gestured at my artwork. This was so stupid. “Dude, it’s just a freaking hunk of wood. You can power wash it.”
“No, you can wash it. Just as soon as Ken comes to collect you in the morning.”
He directed me toward his car, parked on the corner. I glared over at Cassidy, trying as hard as I could to make myself regret the decision to help her tonight. She met my stare head on, her jaw muscles stubbornly tight. I should’ve known she wouldn’t hesitate to turn me in. Not even after I’d saved her life. Still, there might have been a flash of some kind of sympathy in her eyes. I couldn’t really be sure. But she stood there silently, watching as the cop marched me toward his car and opened the back door.
The feel of his hand on the top of my head as he guided me into the seat made me lose my cool. I kicked at the divider wall between me and the front seat. “You know, this is total bull—”
The slam of the door cut off my angry words.
“Don’t do the crime, if you don’t want to do the time, son.” The cop slid into the front seat with a hearty chuckle. He leaned out the window and smiled at Cassidy. “Need a ride home, darling?”
She shook her head, more strands of hair coming loose from her braids. “Nah, I’m okay walking home. Thanks, Trip.”
Trip started the engine as I sunk further into the backseat, feeling my disgust for this small town grown even more. It was like a black hole, sucking me back in every time I even considered leaving. At this rate, I’d never get home.
And as I watched out the window, my gaze met with Cassidy’s. She stood on the sidewalk, not even flinching as my eyes bore into hers. If it had been any other day, I would’ve been impressed. Instead, I tore my gaze away and stared hard at the metal grate in front of me.
I’d had one chance to get out of here. And I threw it away on a girl who didn’t even care.
It figured. Once an Oakie cowboy, always an Oakie.
No one cared about an Oakie...
...if they knew what was good for them.
Can’t wait to read Graham and Cassidy’s story in Cowboy Crush? Follow this link to snatch it up before it returns to full price.
About the Author
Lacy Andersen is the author of several series, including the Billionaire Matchmaker, the Monstrana Paranormal Romances, Faking Ever After, and the Dark Angel Wars. When not writing or dreaming up stories to tell, Lacy is busy running after her kiddos, watching Netflix with her husband, or reading the latest releases. She has a serious addiction to cotton candy, loves to compete in any type of game, and is currently planning her next trip around the world.
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Dare You to Catfish the Hockey Player (Rock Valley High Book 6) Page 19
