Page 32 of In This Moment

Irritation tapped his temples. “I’m an honest person. I would’ve told him if Forest hadn’t mentioned it first. I did address the situation in one of our calls, regardless.”

Her wide, surprised gaze jerked to his. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

He realized that too late for him to retract his response.

“My bad.” After watching her reaction and reminding himself of all she’d done for him, the paper, and how she’d responded to what had happened to him, he believed her. She didn’t appear to blame him, even if he did. “Touchy subject.”

Actually, to date, she was the sole person he’d told the entirety of the scandal. He didn’t know why, nor understood, but maybe it had to do with her not having been happy in the same field of work as him and also winding up here. She’d comprehend the logistics, too, being a journalist.

“I just meant that you were screwed over once, and I’d hate to see it happen again.”

Unsure what to say, like a handful of encounters before, he just stared. She’d thrown him for a loop in the office when she’d defended him. To himself. Bolstered and encouraged instead of taking all the credit. The damn lil spitfire had actually sat across from his desk, and ticked off merits of why she’d thought he was a good boss.

Maria came by, collected their plates, and offered refills.

Without realizing it, they’d been sitting in the booth for over an hour, so Graham asked for the bill and paid it. Guac On was past its closing time.

Outside, he took a healthy gulp of air, not spotting her car. “Where are you parked?”

“Usually, I pull in the alley behind the building, but I walked today.”

So had he. “Walk you home?”

“Sure.” She smiled, turning, tugging her purse strap higher on her shoulder.

They strolled in silence a beat, and again he was struck by the sleepiness of after-hours. All the storefronts were closed. Streetlamps created a mystic yellow glow on the cobblestones. Very few pedestrians. No noise but crickets and a whoosh through the leaves from a breeze.

Perhaps one day, he’d get used to it.

“You know,” he offered a side-glance, “good thing I was here to walk you home. Really dangerous around these parts.”

She emitted the most sensual, gut-clenching laugh. Like smoke under a doorjamb. He had to exert effort to not groan aloud.

“Come now. Don’t be making fun of our precious Vallantine. We do have our share of crime from time to time.”

Ha. “Like gossip? One of the gals at the salon get a bad perm? A gentleman get screwed in a game of golf? Terrible tippers at Tipsy Turtle?”

“Aw, you’re stereotyping again.” Amusement lit her expression as she stared ahead. And that delightful southern drawl he was beginning to adore made a reappearance. “High crimes, indeed. But, no. Petty stuff, mostly. Some tourism-related vandals or theft. I don’t think we’ve had a murder here since the twenties.”

“As in, 2020?”

“1920, dear sir. A brawl between brothers over a woman, if I recall.”

“Huh.” That was quite surprising, all joking aside. “Regardless, I’m glad you’re not walking alone.”

“Big, strong man protect me,” she mocked in a low grunt.

He laughed. She was something else. “That’s right.”

Digging in her purse, she extracted a small pink cylinder. “Pepper spray. Also had self defense classes in college. I can protect myself.”

“Never had a doubt.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll have to show me some of those skills sometime.”

Abruptly, she halted, hands on her hips. “Are you flirting with me?”

Criminy, he was, wasn’t he?

“Gonna plead the fifth.” Since she seemed more amused than affronted, he started their trek anew. “I will say this, Ms. Moore. You’re a smart cookie.” A delicious looking one, at that.

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