Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

Over her shoulder he spotted Catfish Creek's own Ms. Gossip watching. Karly Stocker, reunion organizer and all-around rumor monger, was not someone he wanted anywhere nearby while Leah was fighting to get ahold of whatever lurked under the surface of her bad girl defenses. Too bad fate had other plans. Karly was click clacking her way across the hot asphalt parking lot in heels and full-on big Texas hair.

"We've got company," he said, jerking his chin toward the oncoming assault.

Leah glanced out the window. "Oh God. That's Karly, isn't it?"

"Yep." The one. The only. The permanently annoying.

She whipped back around. "Can we just drive away?"

He understood the feeling, but Karly was closing fast. "Too late."

They got out of the truck and Drew hustled around to the passenger's side, getting there at the same time as Karly.

"Well," Karly said with a smarmy fake smile. "If it isn't Leah Camacho as I live and breathe, and with Drew Jackson no less." She gave Leah an innuendo-heavy wink as if they were old friends. "Don't tell me that it's finally happened."

Crap. What had he missed now? "It?"

Karly laughed, an ear-piercing sound that just might cause an epileptic seizure in dogs. "Everyone knows Leah here has been in love with you since she was knee-high to a jackalope."

Next to him, Leah kept her mouth shut but her chin went a few inches higher and her don't-give-a-fuck mask slammed down into place. Everyone had known? Maybe everyone but him. Before that summer, he'd never noticed her as being anything other than the girl in black who used to hang out with his sister.

"Tell me." Karly leaned in, clutching a manilla envelope with L. Camacho scrawled across the top of it close to her chest. "Are you two together?"

"Nope," Leah said, a big, shit-eating grin on her face. "We're just fucking,"

Drew groaned. Karly's eyes went wide. Leah turned and looked up at him as if she was about to fuck him right there against the side of his truck. Karly let out a little hiss of a squeak. Oh hell. That was going to be all over town before dinner.

Turning back to Karly, Leah asked, "Is that my welcome packet?"

Gaze ping-ponging between Drew and Leah, Karly nodded and handed it over.

"Well then," Leah said, accepting the envelope and turning back toward the truck. "Nice seeing you."

"Wait," Karly said, her voice a few octaves higher than normal. She paused, took a deep breath, and pasted on that fake grin of hers before continuing. "We need your help."

Leah stiffened beside him, her body all but screaming "hell no." Why in the world she decided to come to the reunion if she was going to ignore every single person there was beyond him, but he was done with it. It was time to join in. He took her hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze before turning his attention to Karly.

"What can we do for you?"

The other woman's shoulders sank with obvious relief. "I need two people to hang the decorations up high in the gym. I can't climb a ladder in these shoes."

Leah glanced down at the other woman's ridiculously high heels. "So take them off."

"And go barefoot?" Karly gasped. "In public? No, thank

you. I'd rather go into hiding than go out without my shoes and best lipstick."

Drew cut in again before Leah could make another astute, if snarly, observation. "We'd be happy to help."

"Thank you, glad to see someone in this town still does the right thing. Follow me." Without waiting for a response, Karly took off toward the gym doors, her heels wobbly on the uneven asphalt parking lot.

"Why am I doing this?" Leah asked under her breath as they followed behind.

Knowing just how she'd react to the real reason, he had to think fast. "Because wherever I am, you are until Wynn and Miller make their move and we take them down—and while I'm sheriff in pretty much name only at this point, I still need to act the part."

She snorted. "Always doing what everyone expects of you but when do you ever do what you want?"

He jerked to a stop, halting her progress since they were still holding hands, and yanked her close so that her curves fit perfectly against his hardness. "Does last night count?"