Page 42 of No More Secrets

Shiloh’s eyes widen. She can’t fault the woman for assuming Lucas is to blame, and she can’t help feeling an affinity toward her. They don’t trust men. Under different circumstances, she might admire her. Would have been nice having a woman like her around, unafraid of helping, someone Shiloh could have run to when Ellis got handsy.

But this woman’s too quick to judge. She doesn’t know Shiloh or her story. And you know what they say when you assume.

Shiloh adds Ivy’s secret sauce and wraps the sandwich, then slides it across the counter. “No pickles, just like you asked.”

The woman holds Shiloh’s gaze for two heartbeats before flashing a broad smile. “Thanks, hon. I’ll take these, too.” She shows Shiloh a bag of Fritos.

Shiloh nods over the woman’s shoulder. “Fountain’s over there if you want a soda. He’ll ring you up in the front,” she says of Lucas, and turns around to wash her hands, hoping the woman leaves and that she’s the last one to ask Shiloh about her face. She wishes she had foundation to cover the bruises. She recalls seeing some when she straightened the inventory. Maybe Lucas will give her a discount. It would be in both of their interests that she do something to hide it. Until her eye heals, people will keep asking, and Shiloh fears she’ll slip up.

The woman skips the drinks, and Lucas rings her order. She stares at the mottled skin around Lucas’s left eye and smirks. She probably thinks Shiloh slugged him in retaliation for her shiner.

Lucas notices her staring at him and counters with a lifted brow as he counts out her change.

“Thanks,” she says, pocketing her money.

He shuts the cash register. “Come again soon.” Shiloh watches their eyes meet, and the woman looks as if she’s about to say something. Shiloh holds her breath. The woman draws her gaze down his front, and Lucas just waits, eyeing her the same.

Gross. They’re checking each other out.

“Great band,” the woman says of the faded Jimmy Eat World shirt he’s wearing.

He grunts and she flashes a smile. His gaze follows her out the door.

They both watch her leave. Lucas’s expression doesn’t hide his interest. He can’t take his eyes from her. The woman calls someone on her phone, looking across the parking lot. Then she turns around and snaps a photo of the ad for the vacant apartment in Dusty Pantry’s window. Sliding the phone into her rear pocket, she walks across the road to the dirty Honda.

Lucas scowls.

“What?” Shiloh asks. That car bothered him last night. Does he know the woman?

“You did good. Fewer words the better.” He continues to watch the woman. She gets in her car, rolls down the window, and unwraps the sandwich.

“You can’t stop looking at her. You were watching us from the back, weren’t you?” There’s a small window in the door.

His scowl deepens. Maybe he’s crushing on her.

“You want to tap her ass.”

Lucas turns around, appalled. “You have the worst mouth.”

Shiloh presses her lips until her mouth is a thin line. It wasn’t a nice thing to say. She can’t explain why she did. It’s something Ellis would have said, and it just came out. Disgusted, she glances away and asks, “Who was she?”

“Don’t know,” Lucas says, returning to the aisle to finish restocking the cleaning supplies.

Shiloh shifts her attention back out the window. The car is gone.

20

Lucas follows Shiloh into his apartment. “You did good today.” He tosses his keys and wallet on the counter, then thinks better of it when Shiloh’s gaze follows the cash poking from the billfold. He picks it back up.

She flops on the barstool across from him. “I’m not going to steal from you.”

He counts out some cash, slides the money across the counter to her. Her eyes widen. “That’s for today. More tomorrow if you want to stay.” He returns the wallet to his pocket.

She swipes up the money. “I’m staying.”

Relieved to hear she won’t rush to her online boyfriend, he empties the contents of the plastic grocery bag he’d packed downstairs. Hot dogs, rolls, an onion, and a can of chili. Their dinner. The onion drops onto the floor he mopped during their lunch hour.

“What are your plans for school? Are you going to finish?” She’ll have a hard time finding the type of work she wants if she doesn’t. He picks up the onion.

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