“I found you,” I crow. When I pull back, I realize with a start that I do know this guy. Or, I’ve met him, at least. He was here the last time I came. He was with Devlin. Dixie said something about him… Maybe he’s another Darling? Every hot blond in this town seems to be one of them.
“Yeah, you definitely found me,” the guy says, setting his hands on my hips and holding me at arm’s length. He’s looking at me like he might call the cops, or a mental institution, at any moment.
“Sorry,” I mutter, too scared to be embarrassed. “Those guys were following me. I was hoping you could pretend to know me.” I realize as I say the words how insane I sound. For all I know, this guy is as psycho as the other Darlings. They’re all probably worse than a couple regular creepers following me into the bushes. What if this guy is friends with the creepers? What if he’s one of them?
But his eyes widen as he glances back at the guys and then at me. “Shit,” he says, sliding a protective arm around my shoulders and pulling me in. He kisses my forehead and glares back at the guys. When I look back, they’re slowly strolling out of the parking lot like they weren’t up to anything sketchy at all.
“You don’t know them?” asks my savior.
“No,” I say. “And I don’t have a phone to call for a ride, or any money, or—” I break off, nearly hyperventilating, and to my horror, the adrenaline draining out of me leaves me close to tears.
“Hey,” the guy says. “Hey, don’t cry. It’s cool. I’ll give you a ride. Wherever you need to go.”
“Don’t you have to get to school or something?” I ask, sniffing. I remember Dixie saying he went to Faulkner High. I think.
He grins and tosses his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, but I think they’ll forgive me if I’m late this one time.”
“You play football,” I say, squinting at him, trying to remember. Broad shoulders, killer smile, golden hair he’s sweeping out of his eyes again. Definitely Darling caliber.
He shrugs, still grinning. “I might be on the team.”
“No,” I say slowly. “Youarethe team. Aren’t you? You’re the quarterback who slaughtered us during our last game.”
His smile is half pride, half self-consciousness. “I don’t know if I’d use the termslaughtered…”
“Well, get ready for my brothers to be starters at Willow Heights,” I say. “Then you’ll know what a slaughter looks like for sure.”
“Aren’t you supposed to flatter me a little more?” he asks. “I’m basically your knight in shining armor. I expected my damsel in distress to be a little more… Reverent.”
“I’m fresh out of reverence,” I say. “I think I spent it all on your cousins. They require a lot. It’s kind of like a toll when you enter Willow Heights every morning.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sure you’re talking about the Darlings,” he says. “But I’m not one of them. I’m Chase London.” He holds out a hand and shakes mine.
I feel weirdly self-conscious as I slide my hand into his, realizing as he smiles at me with dimples and squinty-cornered blue eyes that I’m not wearing any makeup. My hair is a crazy, damp, wild mane after riding in a convertible, and I’m wearing sweats and a T-shirt over an unpadded bra that does nothing to hide the fact that my nipples aren’t shy about reminding the world that it’s cold as fuck out here. He, on the other hand, looks like a freaking god. Arkansas sure knows how to grow ‘em, as Duke would say.
Chase’s eyes drop to my chest, and he clears his throat and pulls his hand from mine after the longest handshake in history. Fuck. I’m staring.
“My girlfriend, however, is,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and possibly blushing. “A Darling, I mean. Do you, uh, want my jacket?”
“Thank you,” I say, accepting his jacket. I feel kind of like a traitor as I slide my arms into the warmth of his sleeves. I’m wearing a Faulkner High letter jacket. If his girlfriend is anything like the rest of the Darlings, I’m going to pay for this, but right now I’m too grateful to care. He looks pretty grateful that I’m covered, too.
“You need a ride somewhere?” he asks as we start for the gate, walking side by side down a row of headstones.
“Yeah,” I say. “Thank you. You must be my guardian angel or something. I didn’t expect anyone to be here at seven in the morning on a school day. I was thinking I’d take refuge in the church, but it’s locked.”
“Yeah, they don’t have a lot of staff,” he says.
I want to know why he’s there, but it would be rude to pry. He obviously has someone in this cemetery he cares about, or he wouldn’t be here this time of day. And if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I don’t know him well enough to ask. Besides, he’s not asking me why I’m alone without a phone or wallet or a jacket, so I decide we’ll just leave each other our mutual dignity and pretend there’s nothing strange going on here.
“So, Chase London,” I say as we step out the gate. “Tell me about this illustrious football career of yours.”
“Just Chase is fine,” he says, smiling and opening the door of his car for me. “And I’m not about to tell you my secrets so you can give them to your brothers. Not that they could kick our asses, anyway.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“We’ll see,” I say, smiling as I turn to the window.