Page 16 of The Pretenders of Copper County
“Because you were grumpy, and you took my phone, and you wouldn’t take me home, and…” His eyes roamed over my naked chest and the spot where my towel was knotted at my waist. His whole face turned the same vibrant pink as this godforsaken safe house, but he lifted his chin stubbornly. “What else could I conclude but that you had nefarious intentions?”
“Nefarious?” I repeated, outraged.
“That means bad,” he explained politely.
“I know what the fuck itmeans, Chris,” I shot back. “I still don’t know why you think?—”
“I don’t think it! N-not anymore. That’s what I’m trying to explain. From what you said outside now, you were trying to help someone. Protect them. Which is really admirable. Except, um…” He gave me a look that was both apologetic and pitying. “You got the wrong person.”
“That’s ridiculous. And could you stop being so…”Distracting. His stammering words and pink cheeks were making me think thoughts I had no business thinking, and my thin, damp towel was going to make that clear sooner rather than later. I held up a finger. “Stay here. If you move, I will tie you to that bed.”
Within seconds, I’d marched across the hall to grab my discarded jeans and the primary weapon I’d left behind when I ran from the house. I returned to Chris’s room before replacing the towel with a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the bag on the bed next to him.
The bag I would have known better than to leave with him, damn it, if I hadn’t let myself get distracted in the first place. I would not make that mistake again.
As I yanked on my clothes, Chris’s eyes got wider and wider until I felt the heat of his gaze on my skin. If thisadorably flustered act was one of his ploys to distract me, I’d be damned if I’d let it.
“Explain,” I demanded. “And so help me, do not act innocent this time.”
His eyes remained wide, like a puppy with a hurt paw, only now the wide eyes were coupled with an even deeper pink stain on his cheeks. I felt my back teeth grind in frustration.
Unprofessionalfrustration.
“I already explained as much as I know. What it boils down to is… you’ve taken the wrong Chris.” He let out a huge sigh like the entire scenario was a massive disappointment.
I squinted at him as I threaded my belt into the loops on the jeans and attached the holster at my hip. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to need you to use more words. The wrong Chris?”
He shrank into his overly large sweater and picked at one of his sweater cuffs. “See, there are two Chrises who work at the Bugle, and people get us confused all the time. Like,allthe time. There’s Crys, short for Crystal. She’s gorgeous and tough and extremely competent. One might even say scary competent. And she knows things. You know?”
I definitely didn’t. In fact, the longer I spent with this adorable walking disaster, the less I knew, period.
“And then there’s me.” He pointed to himself with the stretched-out sweater cuff that had now completely overtaken his slender fingers. “Other Chris. Not tough and competent like Original Crys, b-but an extremely hard worker who rarely—seriously, hardly ever—makes the same mistake twice. Which,” he added earnestly, “is more than can be said for a lot of people, if you think aboutit.”
“This is crazy.” I rubbed the center of my forehead, where a headache was forming. “You agreed to protective custody earlier this week?—”
“Nope. Crys might have.” When he tugged at his cuffs this time, it made his sweater slide down his collarbone. “I didn’t.”
“But Agent Janissey or one of his people called you?—”
“Mr. Sunday…Reed… I’m telling you, nobody called me. Nobody offered me protection. And why would they? I don’t need protecting. Which is why I’m saying for, like, the third time… you’ve got the wrong person,” Chris insisted with utter sincerity.
“And I’m telling you, for the third time?—”
He held up a hand to cut me off. “You said something about an uncle who’s ‘testifying’ as part of a ‘plea deal,’ right? Like he’s a criminal? Well, there you go! I have only one living uncle in the whole world, but he’s currently on a fishing sabbatical, and he’s never done a bad thing in his life, so he has nothing to testify about. After my mom died, he helped my dad raise me, and after Dad died, he helped Nonna raise me, and aftershedied, Danny raised me himself. He’s a prize-winning gardener, and he runs—well,ran—the Cellar, the premiere wine and cheese shop in central New Jersey. Oh, and one time, I cursed in front of my Nonna, and Danny made me scrub the floors at the shop for weeks. See? I still have a callus.” He held out one hand, displaying a small red scar on the webbing between his thumb and first finger like it was the smoking gun in a high-stakes courtroom drama.
“So?” I demanded. “What the fuck does that have to do with… literally anything?”
“Soooo…. those are not the things a criminal would do.” He shrugged like he’d made his case.
I didn’t get his angle here. Why was Chris lying about his uncle’s innocence when Dante had already turned himself in and wasthis closeto signing a plea agreement?
But the why didn’t matter, just like my strange attraction to Chris didn’t matter. I needed him to drop his act and realize that the best way to help his uncle was to stop putting himself in danger.
“That’s cute. Really. For future reference, you’re protesting a little too much to be believable.” I sprawled in the wingback chair, only to realize the chair was way too hard for sprawling, so I sat up. “You can drop the act ’cause I’m not investigating your uncle. In fact, no one’s investigating him anymore ’cause he turned himself in, and he’s currently negotiating that plea deal I mentioned.” I yawned. “What you need to understand now is that you’re under my protection?—”
“No.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No?”
