Free Dangerous Lies by Becca Fitzpatrick Page A

let karma take care of them.”
    “I’m not waiting for karma. I’m going to take care of them right now .” I bit off each word.
    “They’re mean boys, Jimbo and Billy Joe. If I were you, I’d take the bike and be glad they didn’t stick it someplace worse.”
    I stopped in my tracks. “Which is it? Is his name Billy John or Billy Joe?”
    Chet went a little pink at the ears. He coughed, clearly trying to disguise a laugh.
    I stared at him for a few moments before realization dawned, and I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, no, you didn’t. . . .”
    “Oh, I definitely did.” With that, Chet let out a whoop and took off running for the fence.
    I grabbed the handlebars of Carmina’s bike and chased after him, shouting a slew of creative and threatening curses. When I reached the fence, I was out of breath, and I could feel sweat trickling down my back. Chet stood on the other side, examining me distrustfully, but not without a slight and mocking smile.
    “Told you I’d get you back,” he said, smirking.
    “Low blow, Falconer.”
    He pointed a finger at me. “I was just starting to get back in Carmina’s good graces by mowing the lawn, and this was a big step backward. Did you see the way she eyed me when she found out I helped you start the Mustang? Tell me that’s not worse than climbing a pile of manure.”
    “Well?” I huffed. “What got you in her bad graces?”
    His eyes widened in disbelief. “We’re still talking about Carmina, right? Does anyone need a reason?”
    Point taken.
    I stewed in my anger a minute, then heaved an irritated sigh. “The least you can do is give me a ride.”
    Chet held the broken fence open and helped me guide the cruiser through. Then he hoisted it onto his shoulder and carried it to the back of the Scout. I was still dusting myself off when he came around and held my door open for me.
    “ Now you decide to be chivalrous,” I said, climbing in.
    Another snort. “What kind of payback would it’ve been if I had rescued you?” After he swung behind the wheel, he turned to face me sheepishly. “Still friends?”
    “Only if you make sure I get in the softball league. I need a nightlife. Has Pastor Lykins talked to you yet?”
    “Matter of fact, he has.”
    “And?”
    Chet thumbed his nose. “I figured I can squeeze you on my team. We’ll have an extra player, but nobody will care.”
    “Good.” I settled into my seat, content. “I was hoping we’d be on the same team.”
    “You were?” he asked, looking surprised and pleased.
    “Rumor has it you’re a good shortstop. I don’t want to be on a losing team. Obviously .”
    “Right. Well, you’re in luck. We’re 2–0 for the season.”
    On the drive back, Chet grinned suddenly in recollection and said, “Still can’t believe you bought that story about Jimbo and Billy what’s-his-name.”
    “It was a legitimate story!” I protested. “Totally plausible!”
    He gave an eye roll. “All small towns in America are filled with inbreeding, ignorant, Bible-spouting rednecks?” He wagged his head pathetically. “You can’t really believe that. That’s like me saying all city types are backstabbing, morally corrupt workaholics.”
    “The workaholic part is probably true. People go to the city because they have a dream—”
    “You know what I’m saying.”
    I sighed elaborately and made a pouty face. “Okay, I admit I was wrong and perhaps prejudiced. Happy?”
    “I’m not trying to coerce you into thinking one way or another, I just want you to consider my perspective. I’ve spent my whole life in Thunder Basin. This is my home. I like it here. But I’m not blind. I can tell you hate it. Fair enough. But I wish you’d hold off judging the town—and everyone in it—until you’ve given it a chance.”
    I bit my lip to hold in a smile. “I wish you could see your face right now. You look so serious .”
    “I was sort of hoping for hot, charming, ravishingly handsome, all of the