Page 17 of An Overdue Match
Bad boy. Rake. Reformed. Husband.
The words fly through my mind like arrows, landing a bull’s-eye that makes my breath hitch.
Lies. Lies. Lies. Stop telling lies, all you romance authors.
“What have you got there?” Tai presses his palms into the back of the chair and leans toward me.
I scoot forward, even though his view of the file folder is already obscured by the table. “Nothing.”
He doesn’t say anything, just peers at me knowingly. There’s no way he can know, and yet the way he’s looking at me makes me feel exposed. An uncomfortable bead of perspiration formsunder my wig, and I want to swipe at it, but of course I can’t. No one in Little Creek is aware of my condition, and I plan to keep it that way. I don’t need to be the sideshow of yet another town.
“If you need the chair, go ahead and take it.”Please. Take it. Forget all about this conversation and what you think you saw. Forget all aboutme.
“Thank you, I will.” Instead of dragging the chair to one of the other tables, Tai plops down across from me and grins. “You’re up to something, Angel.”
I tense at the nickname. I should remain loyal to my dead mother’s memory and hate it, but I’ve always secretly wanted a nickname. Nicknames are a symbol of acceptance and belonging, and I find the only thing I’m hating is having to steel myself against secretly liking the two syllables coming out of Tai’s mouth.
All the vertebrae in my spine align as I sit as straight as a compass needle pointing north. “I’m up to the same thing everyone else who comes to Cotton-Eyed Cup of Joe is up to.” Reaching out, I grab the mug of black plum tea in front of me and take a swig. It’s long since turned cold, and a layer of honey coats the mouthful I force down my throat.
His eyes spark as if he knows how awful that tasted and is amused by my attempt to appear otherwise. “Good?”
“Delicious,” I croak.
“Mm-hmm. I bet.”
Why am I still sitting here? I’ve gotten the information I need. I’ve seen what I need to see. My stakeout is essentially blown. There’s no reason for me not to gather my stuff and go.
“Look, I know I didn’t make the best first impression. Do you think we could maybe start over?” Tai rests his forearms on the table and gazes at me with open earnestness.
“Why?” The question is out of my mouth before I even realize my lips have formed the word. But, really, it’s an honestquestion. I feel like I’ve been trying to figure the guy out since the first time I laid eyes on him. I finally think I’ve gotten a handle on his character, but here he is, throwing me for another loop with his apparent sincerity.
His head tilts. A beat passes. Two.
I try not to squirm as he seems to see beyond the constructed façade I’ve worked so hard to build around me. I want to say something to deflect his intuitive gaze, wondering how he’s turned the tables so fast. Too bad my brain is stalling worse than an old car with engine problems.
“You’re very guarded, aren’t you?” he asks softly.
I snort and look anywhere but at him. “This is not when you ask who hurt me.”
“I’m sorry?” His brows draw down in confusion. He leans forward, his expression turning serious, almost angry. “Didsomeone hurt you?”
My breath gets caught somewhere in my throat. Oh no. I’d said that as a joke. He wasn’t supposed to get protective. The way he’s looking right now, thunderous and like Brett should be worried to ever meet him in a dark alley ... That wasn’t supposed to happen. And, dear heavens, I wasn’t supposed toenjoythis type of reaction.
I lick my lips and force a breathy laugh past the constriction in my chest, waving my hand in the air for reasons I’m unaware of but hope looks like I’m brushing away his concern. “It’s a book trope—who hurt you. Sorry. Occupational hazard.”
He sits back, his face clearing and returning to its usual jovialness. “Is that why you moved to Little Creek?”
I’m taken aback by the direct question and turn in conversation. “What?”
“Why you moved to Little Creek. Sometimes people move to start over. Is that what happened? You were hurt and wanted to start over someplace new?”
My mouth opens. Shuts. Opens. Shuts.
He smiles the tiniest bit. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
“I didn’t say that,” I sputter a little too loudly. The people at the table beside us turn to stare at my outburst. I lean in and repeat myself more quietly. “I didn’t say that.”
Tai shrugs, unconvinced and unbothered.
