Page 20 of A Favor Owed

I steal a glance at her. If I’m going to do this, I have to do it right. “You look nice,” I say.

“Thanks,” she says, looking out the window.Huh. Okay. Try a little harder, man.

“I mean, like, really nice,” I say. This time she looks over at me, trying to tamp down a smile with her teeth.

“Oh yeah? Thanks.”

And for just a split second, I hear New York in the inflection of her words.Busted, Pines.I smile. This is going to be a very good day.

“Nice place,” says Angela when I show her inside my apartment.

Wish I could say the same for you, princess.“Thanks. You want anything? I got Guinness, other beers for the less-discerning guests, Coke. No sambuca, though. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m fine for now. Can I do anything?”

“I’m just going to bring some stuff down to the pool.”

“I’ll help.”

I hand her a bowl of watermelon.

“I carried a watermelon,” she says with a half-smile.

I stare at her. “Did you just make aDirty Dancingreference, Pines?”

“I did, McDaniels.”

“Tell me it’s not your favorite movie.”

“It’s my favorite movie of all time. I can recite the entire script by heart.”

I shake my head slowly. “That’s sad, Pines. You’re killing me.”

“It’s a classic.”

I shake my head again and grab the burgers, steaks, and hot dogs. “I know your secret now,” I tell her as we head down to the pool. “You’re actually fifty.”

She laughs. “Not even close. Twenty-two. And by the way, how did you catch the reference if you’re such a modernist? Maybeyou’resecretly fifty.”

“Nope. Twenty-five. I might have been forced to watch it a few times.”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

“Annoying little sister. So, what is your secret, if it’s not your age?”

“Who said I have a secret?” Her tone stays light, but I sense a note of tension that hadn’t been there before.

“Everyone’s got secrets.”

“I’m an open book, McDaniels.”

I snort a laugh, unable to hold it back. “Whatever you say.”

We carry the food down to the pool, and I leave her there while I go back upstairs for beer. By the time I return, a couple of people have shown up and are talking to Angela. I get music going on my wireless speakers, hand out beers, and get the grill fired up, and the party is underway.

The whole reason for this little shindig is to stake my claim and get things going with Angela. That kind of happens, but not exactly as planned. As more and more people show up—word has gotten out—she goes full-on hostess on my ass, taking care of food and drinks and never stopping long enough to get into a deep conversation with anyone, including me. I manage to sling my arm around her and grab a selfie at one point, but that’s pretty much the extent of any contact.

Nevertheless, I see a lot of looks directed our way, and I do nothing to discourage the speculation. Even better, she does most of the flame-fanning herself by acting like we’ve thrown this party together. I suspect it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her not wanting anyone to try to get to know her. Despite her earlier statement, I know for a fact that Angela Pines has a big-ass secret to keep.

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