Page 22 of Daddy's Little Liar
“Brian?” he grimly demanded.
She turned her head even farther, enough for him to see the cum slut tattoo in rainbow colors on the back of her neck. That was new. It was still in the scabbing phase of healing.
“It was Brian, wasn’t it?” Shoving off the car, he paced a short distance away, needing to get his temper under stern control to keep from jumping in his truck, driving the fifteen miles between here and the rock quarry, where her latest piss-poor excuse for a boyfriend worked, and show the man, in brutal detail, what getting beat on by someone bigger, stronger, and at that moment, meaner, felt like.
“This was a mistake,” Iris said suddenly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go.”
Hands on his hips, Kace shook his head again. It took effort, but he pulled his shit together.
“Wait.” He caught her car door before she could snag the handle and heave it shut between them. He was going to hate himself for this later. Like he needed to rip these old wounds open again. Steadying himself, he reluctantly asked, “You still like that Mexican hole-in-the-wall place just off the highway?”
He didn’t like how shuttered and cautious her face was. It never used to be like that. Once upon a time, she’d been so quick to smile. Now, she looked ten years older than her age.
“Yes,” she said softly.
Decided, he nodded. “I’ll get my keys. You want to come in my car or follow me in yours?”
“I’ll follow,” she said quickly.
Realizing she didn’t want to be left somewhere without a way to get home if he drove away, dismay twisted in to join the anger burning in his gut. As if he would ever do such a thing.
But someone had.
“I’ll be right back,” he said darkly, heading back into the garage to close it up for lunch. Grabbing his wallet from his desk, he checked his phone one last time for messages. Nothing.
She’d better be in Santa Fe, and she’d better be all right, or…
Or what?
He hadn’t even known her before yesterday. He had no right to be this proprietary over a woman he barely knew, wasn’t in a relationship with, and never would be. She didn’t live here. She didn’t live anywhere close to here, and Santa Fe was still sixty good miles down the road.
He was being every bit as much of a dick as one of Iris’s many boyfriends. That wasn’t the man he ever wanted to be.
Georgia was right to want to make a clean break.
Sighing, he put his phone in his back pocket and went to lunch.
Los Amigos wasn’t packed when they got there. At this time in the afternoon, he hadn’t really expected it to be. They got a booth with a highchair for the baby, who he tried hard to pretend wasn’t there. He liked kids too much, and every time he looked at her, all he could think was, if only things had worked out differently, she’d have been his.
He wasn’t much in a mood for talking, neither was Iris. She spent most of her time keeping the baby occupied until their food arrived. The longer the silence went on between them, the worse it felt.
“Are you working?” he finally asked, poking at his enchiladas.
“Not since the baby,” she confessed. She’d never been the most dependable holding a job. He could see how being a stay-at-home mom would be her preference. She didn’t have the education for anything but retail or fast food, and she’d hated every minute she had to deal with customers.
In her situation now, that was a double-edged sword. It kept her dependent on the men she gravitated toward since their divorce. Men who didn’t mind taking on the financial responsibility of a woman and her child because it got them a clean house, meals on the table, and sex whenever and however they liked. Nowhere was Iris more adventurous than in the bedroom. Those relationships had proved temporary because not one guy had wanted anything permanent. It left her in a tenuous position and with men like Brian, stuck with putting up with things she should never have had to in order not to be left homeless and with no money.
That was a cactus thought—pricking him the longer he considered it.
“Where are you planning to stay?”
“Mom offered her spare room. I went there first,” she confessed, “but the house was locked, and my key doesn’t seem to work. I didn’t see her in the field and couldn’t reach her on her cell.”
Damn it, Margo.
Kace was very careful not to aim his glare at her. He scalded his enchiladas instead, but he knew what this was. So did his ex.
“She’s setting us up.”
