Page 63 of Loverboy
“You’re right.” He takes the tuxedo jacket off and tosses it over the arm of a giant L-shaped couch. It's just like mine, except larger, newer and about ten times more beautiful. The leather looks like butter.
And I feel like the world’s biggest idiot. “You lied to me.”
“I did,” he says, teasing his bowtie apart.
“You really work for Max.”
“Exactly.” He threads the bow tie through his collar and tosses it onto his jacket. Then he unbuttons the tux shirt collar.
“The barista job. It was all just a ruse. You’respyingon me!”
“Not on you,” he says calmly.
“Is it…are you with the police?” I squeak.
He shakes his head. “No. Max’s company does high-end private security, and some industrial cybertech work. There’s a criminal who’s been using your pie shop WiFi to brag about a series of murders. You might have seen them in the newspaper. The killer poisoned…”
“I read about those!” I snap. “Those were scary and disgusting. I don’t want anything to do with that.”
“I know you don’t,” he says calmly.
“Why do you keep agreeingWITH EVERYTHING I SAY?” I shout. “It’s so fucking irritating!”
“Oh,I’mirritating?” he returns. “You act like you’re the only one who has ever missed the joke. You tailed me tonight, and I didn’t even notice. You, with the stealth skills of a kitten wearing a bell around its neck.”
“I CAN BE VERY STEALTHY!” I shriek.
“Obviously.” He unbuttons the collar of his shirt, and my eyes dart to his strong neck, and the few blond hairs visible on his upper chest.
Keep going, my hormones beg. They won’t shut up even when I’m very angry.
And I’m still very angry. “It’s not okay. You can’t just spy on someone’s pie shop with your spy tools and your sneaky friends. That’s my LIFE in there!”
“Look, did it occur to you that I don’t want you to lose your life?” he snaps. “That maybe I realize you don’t need to be at the dangerous epicenter of someone’s grudge against a killer? A menacing person who’s made himself very comfortable in your shop, Posy. I only lied so I could figure out who that is.”
“Well it’s not me!” I squeak.
“I know.” He unbuttons that shirt a little further. I watch the ink from his tattoo appear slowly, one sexy button at a time.
The key comes into view, which reminds me of the handsome asshole’s duplicity. “This was all a game to you. I’m just an unwitting little cog in your wheel. You’reusingme.”
“Hey now,” he says, his cool eyes flashing. “I know it’s a lot of information. I realize it’s a big shock. But try to remember that I also busted my ass for the last three weeks, making coffee eight hours a day. I show up early and I stay until the job is done.”
It’s all true. But the lie still burns, because… “I thought we werefriends,” I gasp, knowing how pathetic I sound. But I’ve always prided myself on drawing my employees close. We depend on each other.
I thought we did, anyway. But I was wrong.
“Wearefriends, damn it,” he says. “The pie shop is pretty great, and I care a great deal about what happens there.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re just saying that to make yourself feel better,” I argue. And then a brand new and trulyhorribleidea occurs to me. “Wait—was it you? Did you and Max break my window? So you could fix it and put cameras everywhere?
“No! Posy—!”
“Youdid!” I squeak. “You walked me home from the bar atjustthe right time to witness it. How convenient for you to keep me busy that night. Did you follow me to that bar? You did! And then on the way home you—”
My next realization is so awful that I actually choke on my words. Everything that happened between us that night was a lie. The way Gunnar propositioned me, just so he could walk me home. Kisses on the sidewalk, just to distract me. And after the break in, he stayed close by and held my hand while the cops took my statement.
“Omigod,” I whisper. “Oh. My.GOD. I’ve been played by yet another man.”
