Page 4 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

Something about college. I'm gonna see if I can help. Let me know when you get in the car and I'll put in your order.

Put in my order when you get there. Leaving now!

I pull my keys from my bag and come back to the sitting room smiling.

"Off to meet Rusty. Wish us luck!"

"Good luck," Lou says. "You'll crush it."

“Thanks. See you in a bit!”

I smile and walk out of the mini mansion my friends and I rent. Last year, my four best friends and I moved from Chicago to Sugar Maple, South Carolina, when our CEO—the Boss Jane of Jane & Co.—rebranded the famous Sugar Maple Farms here in this very town. She and the grumpy owner met and fell in love, and because he's richer than dark chocolate, he offered to let us rent this house for cheap while he and Jane live in the main house on the farm.

I've grown to love South Carolina. I'm from Colorado, so I'm used to green, but the South is a different shade. Even if we had mountains here, it'd be impossible to see them through the foliage.

Moisture coats my skin like a blanket. It is unnaturally humid today, and as much as my military-grade deodorant and mascara can take it, my hair is in a constant battle with this accursed humidity.

What is it the Southerners say? The higher the hair, the closer to God.

Saint Ashley, at your service.

I walk up to my forest green Subaru Outback and press the key fob to get in. My room may be a mess, but my ten-year old car is pristine. I don't let anyone eat in here—not even me—and I wash and vacuum it weekly. Don't ask me why. It's my sanctuary.

But even my sanctuary isn’t enough to keep my thoughts from straying to places they shouldn’t go.

I didn’t get diagnosed with ADHD until I was in college, and while my friends and family were beyond cool about it, it took me a long time to work up the nerve to tell my ex, Philip. I finally brought it up after we'd been dating for four months, and he said, "That explains a lot. I’ll just have to love you in spite of it."

Isn't that gross?

What's even grosser is that I was so grateful he felt that way. I felt so insanely fortunate to have someone as suave and handsome and put together as him dating me, when I so often felt like an outsider growing up. He had a way of making me feel like a trainwreck, but one he alone could fix.

Ugh.

I rub my thumb over my nails. Why does he always wait until I've gone dark to find me? Why can't he let me go when he clearly doesn't want me?

Why do I care?

I realize something as I drive the gorgeous tree-lined roads into Sugar Maple, and once it's in my head, I'm more tempted than ever to unblock Philip.

I don't know what his text said.

And it's killing me.

Even worse?

I forgot to clip my hangnail.

CHAPTER TWO

RUSTY

Mrs. Beaty and Lola Nina are about to throw down.

The two women are blocking the intersection at Maple and Third, which means I'm less than a block from the diner. But with cars lining up behind my truck, I can't flip around.

Both women have opened their driver's side doors and are outside their cars, yelling at each other.

"You can't tell me you got all the red threes that many times, Rose!" Lola Nina says, her accent coming out stronger than normal. She usually says "th" sounds, but when she's upset, they revert to "t's" and "d's".

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