Page 105 of The Fake Out

I went still. No, I had not known about it. In fact, I remembered sitting in this very library and making him promise he would not donate. There’d been witnesses and everything.

“How much?” I asked.

“That’s kind of funny, actually. I called him twice to make sure it was right—a hundred thousand dollars and a cent.”

Of course it was. I was going to kill Chris. “I don’t want that money.”

Peter looked nothing short of dumbfounded. “Of course you want that money. You’ve worked hard for it.”

I froze, my blood beginning to heat. “What?”

“You found a man with money. Wasn’t that the plan? I almost feel responsible seeing as how I introduced the two of you.” Then. He. Winked. At. Me.

Alright. Chris may survive. Because I was going to kill Peter instead.

“Are you accusing me of using my relationship with Chris to save the library?” I stalked around the counter until I was only a couple feet away from him. “Is that the kind of person you think I am?”

It was at this point Peter figured out he may have said the wrong thing. He pulled at his collar and took a step back. “That’s not what I meant. You misunderstood me.”

I moved closer and Peter backed up again. He might be a couple of inches taller, but we weighed about the same and frankly, I was scrappier. I might have been able to take him. Especially with the mood I was in.

“Get out.”

“You did the same thing to me. Made me like you, got what you wanted, and then broke my heart.”

“What I wanted?” I whispered.

“Well, this job at the library.”

I never thought seeing red was a thing. Turns out, it was. “I got this job at the library because I am highly qualified. The only thing I did wrong was thinking for even one moment you were worth any time I ever gave you.”

His expression mulish, he crossed his arms. “You’re just mad because you had a good thing and couldn’t keep it.”

I cursed; Iris would have been proud. “Are you kidding me? You had girlfriends in four other towns, you idiot. You know, we have a support group now for all the women who were stupid enough to date you. I’m the treasurer this year. We’re saving up for matching tattoos. They’ll say something like, ‘Peter Stone is a giant cucumber.’”

As far as insults, it hit the mark. I would have to thank Ali for her creativity.

Peter’s face went through a wide range of emotions—fear, anger, embarrassment, fear again, and back to anger. For a split second, he even tried to get a backbone. “You can’t talk to me that way. I’m the mayor.”

“Out!” I yelled.

My hand itched to throw a book at him. I stalked toward him, and he walked backward, tripping over the return cart but saving himself before he met the floor.

His back hit the door. With as much pride as he could scrimp up, he pulled it open. “I can’t wait for the council meeting. I’m going to crush you.”

The door slammed shut behind him and I locked it even if it were a few minutes early. I leaned my forehead on the cool wood and tried to pull in deep, calming breaths. It didn’t work. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Peter was a lost cause, and I was a little embarrassed I’d used any emotion on him.

But Chris was another story.

FORTY-SEVEN

Are you Siri? Because you autocomplete me.

—JULIA B.

“And where might I find Chris right now?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

It should be noted I was not calm. Oh, I tried. I’d gone home, stalked around the house like a caged animal, changed into shorts and a t-shirt and gone for a walk in the hopes I’d feel better after. But I was looking for a fight. Peter and my father were out of the running. That only left one person.