Small Town Pretender by Brighton Walsh

Caged in Winter Excerpt

cade

Despite Jason telling me over and over what a stupid idea this was, I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. Not when I couldn’t get this girl out of my head. I figured I could just talk to her at work…try to figure out why she got under my skin so much. Not just that, but to apologize. Except she hadn’t been in when I got here. And when she did show up, the place was so packed, there wasn’t time for a conversation. So, of course, the next obvious thing to do is to stand outside in the dark like an idiot and nearly give her a heart attack.

I hold up my hands before stuffing them in the pockets of my jeans. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The look she shoots me is made of pure disdain. “Then maybe you shouldn’t lurk around in parking lots at fucking midnight. Are you a jackass and a stalker?”

“I’m usually neither. You just bring out the best in me, I guess.” I offer her a smile, hoping to coax one from her, or at the very least, soften her up a bit.

It does neither.

She stares at me for a minute before shaking her head and looking toward the ground. She’s changed into a sweatshirt and fitted pants, her long, dark hair pulled away from her face, and even though she’s ninety percent more covered than she was the last time I saw her, she’s still beautiful. When she looks back up at me, her eyes spark with the fire I saw that first night. “I’m not sure how else I can say this so you get it, but here goes. I don’t want or need your help. Got it? Stay away from here, or I’ll tell Annette to add you to the Wall of Assholes.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Wall of Assholes?”

“Yeah. Assholes who aren’t welcome back.”

“You actually have one of those? Did you put those guys from the other night on there?”

She throws her hands in the air. “They didn’t do anything!”

My mouth drops open, and I stare at her, shocked silent. When I find my voice, my words come out sharper than I intend. “He grabbed your ass!”

Turning, she walks away from me, shaking her head as she goes. She mumbles just loud enough for me to hear, “Believe me, that’s not the worst thing they do.”

I catch up to her quickly. “Then why do you work here?”

“God, you’re like a flea that just won’t go away.” She gives a quick glance in both directions before she hops off the curb and hustles across the street. There are a few students roaming, but it’s a Friday night. How secluded is it on a Monday? The idea of her out here, walking by herself, bothers me more than it should. “Are you intentionally being this obtuse? Why do people usually work? So I can pay for things.”

“I get that. But why there?”

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye before moving her attention once again in front of her. There’s a weighted silence between us, almost as if she’s deciding how much to reveal to me. Finally she says, “Because a partial scholarship only goes so far, and this pays the best for what’s available with my schedule. Unless I go down to Roxy’s.”

My jaw locks, hands clenched at the idea of her working at a fucking strip club. If I thought a guy grabbing her ass got me pissed, it has nothing on someone staring at her while she struts naked on a stage.

Not seeing my reaction, or ignoring it entirely, she continues, “I’m not quite that desperate yet.”

Thank fuck for that.

“What about your parents? Why don’t they help you?”

“I have a better question: Why are you still here?”

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m not such an asshole that I’d knowingly let you walk to the bus stop by yourself after midnight. You do this every night?”

“Careful, stalker, you’re starting to sound creepy.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Seriously, though. I can…I could come by tomorrow and give you a ride home, if you want.”

She stops suddenly and stares at me, her mouth parted. “Are you seriously hitting on me right now?”

I grimace, running my hand over my hair. None of this is coming out how I wanted it to. “No…Yes. Maybe.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Okay, now I know you’re just being obtuse. What part of my fuck-off body language isn’t coming across? It’s obviously something I need to work on.” She turns and continues walking, speeding up slightly.

I take a deep breath, hands shoved in my pocket as I follow her, because sometime over the past few days, I’ve apparently turned into a masochist. “Look, I wanted to say I was sorry. I just…I read your signals wrong, I guess. I thought I saw you stiffen when he grabbed you, and I can’t…I’m not the kind of guy who can sit back and watch something like that happen, okay? I couldn’t do nothing.”

She doesn’t say anything, and we’ve arrived at the bus stop already. We’re the only ones there, and the bus is nowhere in sight. I know I’ve got a couple more minutes, and I intend to use every one until this crazy, beautiful girl accepts my apology.

She leans against the metal pole of the bus stop sign, her arms crossed as she considers me. “You’re really sorry?” At my nod, she continues, “And you won’t do it again?”

I force myself to shake my head, even though I’m not sure it’s a promise I can actually keep.

“Fine. Apology accepted.” She turns her back on me, facing the street, clearly done with our conversation. With me.

Jesus, this girl is making me work for it. I step off the curb and move to stand in front of her. “I’m Cade, by the way.”

She doesn’t even look at me, her head turned to the side, eyes focused somewhere over my shoulder.

“I didn’t catch your name…”

“That’s because I didn’t give it.”

I blow out a breath. “No, I mean before…the other day. Your name tag? I didn’t see what it said.”

“Probably because you were too busy throwing your Neanderthal bullshit around and scaring off my customers.”

“I said I was sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How do you plan on doing that?”

“I, ah, I could make you dinner…”

Her abrupt laugh, throaty and deep, surprises me. From the look in her eyes, the sound is more disbelief than anything. “You’re hitting on me again.”

I chuckle, rubbing at the back of my head as I stare down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess I am.” The rumble of the bus grows louder as it rolls down the street toward us. “So what do you say?”

She looks at me, stares straight into my eyes until the bus stops in front of us, its doors sliding open. Only then does she look away, climbing the first step, and I almost think she’s going to leave without even answering. But before the doors close, she looks at me over her shoulder. “Same thing I said before. Go find someone else, Prince Charming.”

And then she climbs the rest of the steps, the bus hisses and pulls away, and she’s gone.

And I still don’t know her name.

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