Page 112 of Insincerely Yours
“It’s not a problem.”
“Okay, I don’twantyou doing me any favors.”
He has the gall to look genuinely confused. “Why?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want to be dragged into whatever game you’re playing at here.” Seriously, after last night, I anticipated him to be cold or cocky or mocking. Instead, he’s riding in on his stallion to play White Knight for the second time this morning.
And I’m not buying it.
Jase holds up his hands. “I’m just being nice—”
“Exactly. It’s weird and, quite frankly, unsettling. You’re giving me whiplash.”
The furrow between his eyebrows only deepens. “That would imply I’ve been somethingotherthan nice.”
“…Yeeeah.”
“And when was that exactly?”
He can’t be serious. I look around the car, taking a dramatically long inhale. “I’m sorry, is there a gas leak in here? Because I believe it wasyouwho manipulated his way intomyhome as some sort of twisted tactical maneuver.”
The strangest smile creeps across his lips.
“Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
“No, that was very much strategic.” He says this so offhandedly, not missing a beat as he turns back onto the main drag.
I let out a hollow laugh. “And yet you can’t seem to understand why I think you’re an asshole?”
“I said my decision was strategic. I didn’t say it was against you.”
“Meaning?”
He just continues peering out the front windshield, that crooked, devious grin growing with every passing block.
“Why did you delete the security footage from earlier?”
I anticipate him playing dumb or continuing with the silent treatment act, so I’m more than a little taken aback when he admits, “Because a lot of people are going to be sniffing around, and I don’t need to leave a paper trail…or digital footprint, in this case.”
Again, Jase says this so casually, like he’s talking about the weather when, in actuality, he’s being as shady as all hell.
“You didn’t just come across me back there by happenstance, did you?”
“Nope.”
Righteous indignation flares up in my chest and quickly spreads through the rest of me.“You’ve been following me? For how long?”
The jackass consults his watch. “Let’s see, you left the restaurant seventeen minutes ago, so…seventeen minutes.”
I give him a flat look, which only makes him laugh again.
“Relax, I don’t make a habit out of stalking people, and before you ask, no, I’m not tracing you through your phone,” he says, not missing my eyes drift to his cell sitting in the cup holder.
I know I’m really not one to talk, since I had gone snooping through his things and followed him to Murdock’s, but I can’t hold back my irritation, nor my confusion.
“Not sure if you noticed, Birdie—” he gestures at the fading bruises on the side of his face “—but Patrick has a bit of an impulse problem. I wasn’t about to risk the jackass having some stupid, knee-jerk reaction that might have him going after you in retaliation.”
“Retaliation forwhat?”
