Page 82 of Pining for Pierce

I see red and grab him, pushing him back against the storefront, and holding him there, one arm across his throat.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

“Hit a raw nerve, have I? I guess that means she’s still holding out on you.”

“Grow up, will you? And stop playing games.”

“What games? I’m not playing games. I’m just saying she’s all promise and no delivery. That’s her…”

“I’m not talking about Harley. I’m talking about the dumb message you sent me earlier.”

He frowns, trying to lean away from me. “I didn’t send you a message. Why the fuck would I want to message the guy who stole my girl?”

I step back, letting him go. “She wasn’t your girl, Kaiden. And don’t deny you sent me a message this afternoon. We both know it came from you.”

“I don’t know any such thing,” he says, straightening his shirt. “You’re the one who’s been sending messages.”

“Who to?”

“Me, of course. Via Dawson Pine,” he says, like the answer is obvious. “You got him to warn me off.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Oh?” he says, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at me. “So, the guy just told me to stay away from Harley because he felt like it, did he?”

“I guess so.” He rolls his eyes. “Whatever Dawson said to you, it had nothing to do with me… although we all know hehad a good reason for saying it. He saw what you were doing to Harley. He even offered her a way out.”

“He hit on Harley?” he says, sounding incredulous.

“No. He saw how scared she was of you and offered to get her out of the situation you’d gotten her into.”

“Yeah… right. She wasn’t scared, she was teasing. It’s what she does best, and as for…”

I hold up my hand, and he stops talking. “Kid yourself all you want, Kaiden. I don’t really care what you think. I just want you to stop sending messages.”

“I’m not. I’ve never messaged you in my life.”

“Then what’s this?” I ask, pulling out my phone and opening the app. The message is still displayed on the page and I turn my phone around, showing it to him.

“That’s not from me,” he says, shaking his head.

“Really?”

He studies the screen a little more closely. “It’s from my father.”

“But it says ‘K. Bowman’.”

“Yeah. His name’s Karl, you fucking idiot.” He steps away, shaking his head. “Try doing some research before throwing accusations around, will you?”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to have accused him of, other than sending me messages, which is hardly a crime.

“Why would your father be messaging me?” I ask.

“Fuck knows. And by the way, you’re welcome to Harley. I never really liked her that much.”

“Then why did you ask her out?”

“To kill some time. I thought she’d be fun, but she’s just like the rest of them.”

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