Page 22 of Stolen Goods
“I’m not saying you seem gullible, per se…” He paused, pursing his lips to consider the options. Addy narrowed her eyes accusingly, putting a hand on her hip and tapping one foot while she waited. “You’re honest. Optimistic.”
Okay, that’s not terrible.
“Maybe a little bit naïve.” She frowned. He continued, a sympathetic expression passing over his face. “When you talk to someone online, you believe they’re the same way you are. You believe they’re telling the truth.”
Addy frowned. “Online? But the only people I talk to online are McKenzie and—”
“Jo?” Thad supplied.
“No.” Addy shook her head. “That’s not—”
“Jolene Carter. Age twenty-five. Wants to own her own bakery. Probably complained a lot about the family business and recently invented this dessert she’s obsessed with called the coopie? Yeah, she’s my partner.”
“Nooo,” Addy repeated, word slipping out in a voice she didn’t recognize, deep and dripping with disbelief.
Thad closed the distance between them and put his finger beneath her chin, gently returning it to its proper place. “Yes. And I need your help initiating contact with her in a way no one will be able to trace.”
Addy blinked a few times, staring at him, not quite registering his meaning.
He slid her phone from the back pocket of his jeans and extended it toward her, moving slow to give her time to process. “I need you to reach out through the group chat you guys always have going on and tell her you’re in the middle of a code brown situation.”
That got Addy’s attention.
She shook her head as her entire body twitched back with repulsion. “What? No!”
Southern ladies did not have code brown situations. And if they did, they certainly didnottalk to their friends about it—especially in writing, where the proof could live on forever.
“I know, I know,” he murmured, trying to cut through her disgust. “We came up with it when we were thirteen and thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Let’s just say, the joke didn’t age well. But we never got around to changing it.”
Addy stared at her phone in his hand and took a step back. “I can’t— I mean, this is just crazy. Jo’s not… She wouldn’t… She’s a baker, not a criminal.”
“Contrary to popular belief, those two things aren’t mutually exclusive,” Thad commented, stepping forward again, staring at her under hooded brows with the twinkle of a challenge in his eye. He shook the phone, goading her to reach out and take it. “Aren’t you the least bit curious? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Addy swallowed, fingers twitching, but held back. “If the police find out I helped you—”
“You’re acting under duress,” Thad cut in with a shrug. “Not liable for your actions.”
Addy dropped her gaze to the phone.
Then lifted it back to his challenging gaze.
To the phone.
Then his eyes.
Phone.
Eyes.
Phone.
Eyes.
“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life wondering if I told the truth about Jo?” he whispered, cajoling, coercive—annoyingly effective. “Now that I told you, there will always be a little doubt in the back of your mind, every time you talk to her, every time you think about her, every time you send her a recipe—”
“Fine!” Addy snatched the cell phone from his palm, ignoring the electric bolt that shot up her arm as soon as her fingers grazed his skin. She wasnotattracted to him. No way. Her body was just reacting to a heightened sense of adrenaline, of, of… “God, has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”
“I prefer the termpersistent,” Thad said smoothly, adding a little wink.
