Page 66 of Ly to Me
Ah. “You know Car?”
“Car?” She evaluated every inch of my skin, a disturbing smile taking over that sneer of hers as she lingered on my boots. “That’s cute. He tell you to call him that?”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
She picked at her nails, like my looks had said enough about me and she’d grown bored. Then, she shrugged. “I prefer calling himdaddy, but I guess Car makes sense, in a lazy kind of way. It isn’t nearly as sexy, though.”
My nails dug into my arms, wanting nothing more than to swing at her pointed face. “I’m sure he thinks having a daddy issue isrealsexy.”
She scoffed. “We’ll see. It will be me leaving the bar with him tonight. Not you. You’re just…just some random thing he found on the side of the road, I’m sure.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged and moved to stand in front of the mirror, fixing the hair he paid to have dyed back to normal, then glanced at her hair through the glass.
He didn’t dye it back because of her, did he?
“I bet you can’t handle what he has to offer,” she said, trying to goad me further. Cleary, myfuck offface was broken lately.
“Dunno. Don’t really care.” I smiled at her through the mirror and rubbed my middle finger over my bottom lip, adjusting a non-existent smudge. She scoffed again as her eyes fixed on my finger.
“I’ll be the one on his arm leaving in his truck tonight,” she insisted.
“The truck I fucked him in?” I cocked my head, waiting for her reply.
The woman’s eyes turned to fine slits before nearly shrieking, “Liar!” The door ripped open, and I let a minute or two pass before following behind her, knowing exactly where she was heading.
Sure enough, the woman hadn’t wasted a second. Her tight red dress was now riding up even higher than it had been in the bathroom, only now she was leaning against the bar top, right in front of Carver. His eyes locked onto mine, then moved down to the sway of my hips as I neared.
I stopped a few seats down from where Carver stood and plastered on the smile most men fawned over, turning to the first man I could. “Hey there, big boy. Wanna dance?” The random guy swiveled in his seat to face me and grinned, continuing his perusal mostly between my chest and lips. When his eyes reached mine, they continued further up above me, then widened, like he was terrified.
“Roger.” Car’s voice came out deep and thick behind me as rough fingers circled my biceps. “I see you met my wife.”
“Wife?” Roger swallowed, and I nudged my elbow into Car’s gut, which did nothing but point out how fucking built he was. Hitting him was like ramming into stone.
“Yes.” Carver slid a hand down to my waist. “My wife, Lyra Roland.”
Roger squinted, like he was trying to find the truth in that statement, then fanned his fingers between us, shaking them furiously. “You got it all wrong. She came up to me, Carver. I didn’t do any—”
“Excuse Lyra, she was probably going to ask you for a cigarette.”
“Was not,” I muttered.
Carver tsked, his grip on me unmoving as I tried to jerk away. “Gorgeous thing won’t quit.”
Roger slowly patted his pockets. “I don’t have one, little lady. Think I left them in my truck. Sorry.” The rectangle protruding from his jean pocket said otherwise, but that hadn’t been what I wanted, anyway. He swiveled away quickly, picking up his glass and chugging half of the amber liquid inside.
I turned in Carver’s hold and glared up at him. “Why would you go and say that?”
His head tipped to the side. “That you’re my wife, or that you’re quitting?”
“Both. And where’s that bitch you were talkin’ to?”
He grinned. “Bitch?”
“Yeah, the girl in red with the fake tits and no lips,” I rushed out. “I’mnotgoing to start calling youdaddy, by the way.”
His face dropped as he murmured, “Fucking hell, Ly.”
“I’m serious, I won’t.”
