Dalton looked shrewdly over the crowd and then shrugged, meeting her glare. “Oh, just dropped hints, really. How he’s ‘painting’ your house. How you’ve spent hours together on a ‘secret project.’” He kept using finger quotes. “Even claimed to know that you slept with a baseball bat under your bed. And everyone knows he’s stayed over at your place.”
She stared, frozen in place, replaying any scene at all where Mark would be justified in making such an announcement. They’d slept on the couch. Slept.
“Was he mistaken, then?” Dalton asked.
She wanted to slap his innocent look off his face. She clenched her fists, anger and frustration and foolishness whirling inside her like a cyclone. Why was this bothering her so much? It shouldn’t. Half of that was true, though she didn’t know why Mark would share any of it.
But this hurt. They’d agreed to go slow. To keep things quiet. Friends. Friends and maybe something more. She’d trusted him.
Mark worked his way down from the platform, putting as much distance between himself and the podium as he could. He just wanted to find Riley and get out of the spotlight.
Finally, after a few more handshakes, the crowd broke up around him.
He spied her immediately. She was talking to Dalton Gainer, and when she spotted Mark and didn’t smile back, a warning shot up his spine. Whatever Dalton had said to make her look like that had Mark picking up his pace.
“Hey,” he said as he reached her. He looked between Riley and Dalton. “What’s up?”
Riley’s frown deepened. She was upset. Ticked-off upset.
“Are you all right?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“Dalton just told me something very interesting,” she said.
“Really?” He turned to Dalton. “You stay up all night practicing what to say?”
Dalton smirked.
Riley didn’t laugh. She clenched her jaw and didn’t meet Mark’s eyes. “He says you told him that you and I are sleeping together.”
Mark’s stomach dropped at the underlying anger in her voice and the hush that fell over the crowd around them. Of all the things he would have guessed she was going to say, that wasn’t one of them. He looked at Dalton. “What the—”
Riley interrupted him. “Dalton said you made sure he understood that you and I were intimate.”
He couldn’t help the laugh that found its way up and out. He would never have said anything like that to anyone, let alone to Gainer. But the look of smug triumph on the man’s face quickly dowsed any humor in the situation.
Fury roiled inside Mark. He was already fighting emotions from the speech. He’d made it through. And he’d wanted nothing more than Riley’s smile, her hand—anything she’d allow. Not this.
He turned to her, his head spinning. “Why would I—I didn’t—I didn’t say that.”
“You certainly did, Rivers,” Dalton said, his manner cool. “Just outside the school when I helped you with those boards you were taking to the shop. Claimed your territory pretty clearly.”
“You helped me with—?” Then it hit him. He remembered that day, how he’d felt defensive of Riley and had thrown out that stupid comment about her baseball bat. “Why you sonuva—”
“It’s true, then?” Riley gazed at Mark, hurt evident in her eyes. Disappointment. Betrayal. “Has this been some kind of game to you?” She looked between them. “To both of you?”
Mark rubbed his hand over his face, chuckling but without humor. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s true. I told him I knew you slept with a baseball bat under your bed. And I let him think whatever he wanted because he’s Dalton Gainer and who cares?” His anger took over. “Do you know why I told this lying, cheating piece of work about your bat, Riley?” He held up a hand. “Shut up, Gainer.”
Dalton shut his mouth on whatever bull he was going to dish out. More people were gathering, but he wasn’t going to let this land in his lap. Not after what he’d just done. Not today.
“He was telling me to back off. Of you. He was comparing you to points on a scoreboard and claiming he was going to win.” He breathed hard.
Dalton opened his mouth again.
Mark pointed at him. “Don’t think I can’t take you right now.”
“Mark,” he heard Steph say from behind him.
In his peripheral, he saw Gus and Lester take a step closer.
He focused on Riley. “I’ve treated you with nothing but respect. I told him about the bat, Riley, because he was talking about my friend like a high school record he wanted to break. I told him to be careful, because I knew if you heard about it, you’d end up swingin’.” Mark backed away, watching her watch him, her eyes big and green and watery. “I just didn’t think you’d be swingin’ at me.”
He glanced around at faces and shrugged off his dad’s hand on his shoulder. He stared at Riley. “I get it, though. Why on earth would you be with me? Wouldn’t want that rumor spreading. So you just let Dalton keep playing you. No rumors to fear there.” He turned and stalked toward his truck on the other side of the park, his insides hardening like poured concrete.
Riley watched Mark stride away through blurry eyes, her lungs on fire.
Dalton stepped closer. She felt his hand on the small of her back. “I’m sure he’ll be all right. Today was rough on him, poor guy. What a scene. How the hero has fallen. Are you okay?”
As his hand slid lower, she stepped away and slapped Dalton Gainer across the face. Pain burst through her palm.
“What the—” He held his face and spit out blood.
“Imagine what I could do with a bat.” She turned.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Dalton called after her.
“Oh, sure,” she heard Gus say. “Because no woman has ever slapped you across the face before, right, Gainer? Officer Lester, what do you think?”
“Clearly self-defense.”
Yvette touched her arm,
