The team had the chance to review the first two books in the Out in Austin Series, Teddy's Truth and Shiloh's Secret, so we were thrilled that Trusting Tennyson releases next week! In anticipation, please check out this exclusive excerpt~
Exclusive Excerpt
Asher stepped off the Greyhound bus in Austin a hot mess—emphasis on both hot and mess. Despite being nearly dusk, it was eighty-six degrees and climbing, and even Asher’s sweat was sweating, pouring down his spine like a slip-and-slide. Of course, he didn’t have deodorant, either, which explained the nice bubble of empty space quickly forming around him.
But while it felt like he was standing in a swimming pool inside an industrial oven, he was ecstatic. He was finally in Austin, hopefully minutes away from seeing Devon. He scanned the crowd for the familiar blond hair, waving wildly when he finally spotted it. Devon stood awkwardly near a large black SUV, his right hand gripping his left forearm. Asher couldn’t see it, but he imagined Devon’s thumb was tapping nervously over his pulse.
Asher hoped Devon was as excited to see him as he was to be here. He wanted to skip as he made his way over but restrained himself to a fast walk. He couldn’t keep the smile from breaking across his face. Devon seemed to grow paler the closer he got, but he supposed it was okay to be nervous, since Devon probably had the same fears he did.
He was almost in touching distance when the driver’s door opened and a large, vaguely familiar man stepped out. His hair was slate-silver, flecked with pepper, and he wore a suit that looked expensive, a gaudy silver watch glinting on his wrist as he closed the door.
Asher slowed to a stop, frowning while he placed him as the man from the Skype call, Devon’s dad—who Asher thought didn’t know he was coming, since Devon had said he wasn’t accepting.
“Devon?” Asher didn’t really know what he was asking but Devon answered only with lowered eyes.
Instead, Devon’s dad smiled like a chainsaw—all threat and teeth—and Asher almost stepped back. “You must be Devon’s friend,” the man said, dropping a large hand on Devon’s shoulder. “Do we need to grab your bags, or…” He trailed off in question, looking at Asher’s empty hands, and Asher flushed.
“I got mugged at the bus station. Um…I’ve got this though.” He crouched quickly and fished the sweaty, rolled up hundred-dollar bill from his sock and held it out. Immediately, embarrassment flooded him, and he yanked it back, drying it off on his shirt before extending it again. “Sorry…”
The man waved him off. “Keep it, michi.”
“Um, it’s Asher, actually,” he corrected hesitantly.
Devon’s dad laughed. “Sorry, Asher. It means ‘kitten'. Your hair right now. It’s just…” The man made a gesture by his skull, quirking his lips up.
Asher swiped a hand through his hair, feeling the way it stuck up every which way, then blushed, heat burning in his face. What an impression to make on a man predisposed to dislike him.
“Go ahead and take the front seat, Asher. Devon will be fine in the back. Won’t you, boy?” Devon’s dad said.
“Yes, M…Sir,” Devon stuttered, giving Asher an inscrutable look before climbing into the backseat. Then, his dad held open the door for Asher with a bland smile. And shark eyes, Asher thought, but after only a moment’s hesitation, he climbed in.
He knew he was judging the man only because of things he’d inferred from his conversations with Devon, but maybe things had changed. They must have, if his dad had driven him here to pick up Asher.
Asher sat in awkward silence as Devon’s dad navigated the large SUV onto the street and started driving, presumably toward the apartment Devon had already rented for them. All Asher knew was that it was within walking distance of a coffee shop and a grocery store…and not too far from a bus stop, which was great, because first thing tomorrow, he was going to have to find his way to a bank, cancel his debit card and hopefully convince them to refund any fraudulent charges as well.
And he had to get a cheap cell phone at some point and probably a change of underwear or two.
But those were all tomorrow’s problems. Today, he was just going to be excited to be here.
He spun in his seat to look back at Devon, who looked even smaller in the large bucket seats than he had on the computer screen. He was staring out of the side window, his brows lowered over distant eyes.
“So, Devon,” Asher said, feeling guilty for a second when the other boy startled, “you gotta tell me all the cool places to visit. I want to experience everything.” Devon smiled, but it looked more queasy than excited. “Um… I don’t even know where to start. There’s the, um…” He shifted his gaze to the side, toward the rearview mirror, and his dad cut in.
“Devon’s kind of a homebody, but don’t worry. We’ll make sure you have lots of new experiences now that you’re here. We’re so happy to have you.” Asher couldn’t help but think that there was something a bit off about the way the man phrased it, but he shook it away. It was obvious from the hint of an accent he had that English wasn’t the man’s first language, if the Spanish he’d slipped in earlier hadn’t given it away.
Which was funny, too, since Devon didn’t look like he had a hint of Hispanic in him, not with his pale skin and hair.
It was weird how genetics worked sometimes.
Asher turned back to watch the road, staring at the hundreds of new things to see. It was so different from Wilmington—everything brighter, both in terms of actual sunlight and color. He didn’t know where to look.
He was expecting them to pull up to an apartment complex—probably somewhere a bit rundown, a place cheap enough they could afford it if they lived on a diet of ramen and fruit snacks. Instead, they seemed to be driving to the outskirts of Austin, where the houses grew larger and the lawns lusher—and the fences no longer chain link but ornate wrought-iron.
Devon’s dad must have noticed the confusion on Asher’s face because he slowed slightly and gave him a quick smile before returning his eyes to the road. “I know you and Devon were planning on getting your own place, but I talked him into staying at home for a few more months. That way you can save up some money. Besides, we have a cook, so I’ll know he’s getting enough protein.”
Asher glanced at the waif-boy in the backseat, with his cheekbones like cut glass and wrists like crystal stemware—poised to shatter.
He turned back to Devon’s dad. “You’re sure you don’t mind, sir?” “You can call me Dad or Mr. B. And no, I don’t mind at all. The more the merrier.”
Preorder your copy of Trusting Tennyson today so it will be ready for you on release day, August 9th!
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