Page 9 of Fourth Wheel
He frowns as he pulls into the driveway and slams the gearshift into park, focused intently on the closed garage door.
“Have you lived here long?” he grits out without turning his head to look at me.
Damn. I can’t lie to him. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true since I’ve been lying by omission all night, but for some inexplicable reason, I feel compelled to answer honestly.
“I’ve lived in this house my whole life,” I confirm, unlatching my seatbelt to give myself an excuse not to meet his gaze.
“And you know Jake how, exactly?”
Fuckity fuck. The jig is up.
Had I suspected he’d been here before, I would have insisted we go to his place. I never expected him to recognize my damn house. When the hell would he have been here?
Evading the truth is futile. He knows who I am. Or he’s pretty damn sure. And he’s really fucking pissed, based on the vibes he’s throwing my way.
I huff out a sigh and grab the door handle before answering. I don’t know what’s more disappointing: that I didn’t foresee this snag in my plan, or that I won’t get to see his dick.
“I’ve known Jake my whole life,” I admit. “He’s been best friends with my brother since before I was born.”
I sneak a glance at him to gauge his reaction and am shocked as shit when he reaches a hand out, grips my chin, and turns my head so I’m facing him.
He’s leaning in so close I can see the gold flecks in his irises. If I wasn’t sure he was pissed, this would be so fucking hot. He squeezes my chin a fraction tighter.
“So that means your brother is—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish that statement.
“Rhett,” I spit out in frustration. “My brother is Rhett Wheeler.”
Chapter 6
Dempsey
No.Nofuckingway.
This can’t be her house.
I’ve been here before. Relaxed in the hot tub out back. Played beer pong in the sunroom. Crashed on the living room couch.
I’ve raced down this street going fifty miles an hour. I’ve left my car running in this driveway as Jake and I frantically ran around back. I’ve pulled my brother away from this yard and wrestled his drunk ass into my car.
I know this house. Thiscan’tbe her house. Because if it is, that means the girl I almost slept with tonight is related to none other than…
“Rhett. My brother is Rhett Wheeler.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I drop my hand from her face and lean back in a desperate attempt to put distance between us. I ball both hands into fists and will myself to keep it together as the truth taints the chemistry between us.
How could I not have put two and two together? I’m shocked Jake didn’t call me out for what was clearly about to go down.
But the true root of my rage lies with her.
There’s no way she doesn’t know who I am. Fielding spent Christmas with her family two years ago, for crying out loud. Is emotional catfishing a thing? I don’t know what she’s playing at, but she’s definitely playing.
“Out,” I bark when I finally manage to form a coherent thought. I grip the steering wheel with both hands and stare straight ahead, silently counting down the seconds until she’s out of this car and out of my life forever.
When she doesn’t respond or make any move to leave, I turn my head and glare.
