Page 14 of Tell Me No Lies

And I'm willing to bet those fucked-up parts are connected to the same person who made her believe some people need killing.

"Fine." Piper slaps her keys into my hand.

I hold up the jumbled mess, taking in the collection of random keychains, eyes lingering on a fluffy, hot pink ball before tipping my head to meet her gaze.

"Is there a problem?" She crosses her arms, daring me to point out the bizarreness of what I'm holding.

Oddly, I kinda like it. The mass of rainbows, a fake chicken nugget, and pepper spray reminds me of her. Chaotic. All over the place. A contradiction of colors and textures and materials that are all connected. "Let's go check out your car."

With her keys in my hand, I lead Piper outside, dropping into her driver's seat before attempting to turn over the engine. Her car’s old enough that it has an actual key for the ignition, but still in good shape, so I'm not expecting it to be anything major. I pay attention to the sounds it makes as she comes and goes every day, so I would have noticed if something serious was wrong.

The single click when I turn the key tells me everything I need to know, and I get back out, reaching under the dash to pop her hood before moving to the front bumper.

Piper chases behind me, staring at the side of my head as I lift the hood and prop in place. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna fix your car." For some reason, I finally feel settled. I spent the day uneasy and irritable, and now, even though I'm still technically working, I’m more relaxed than I've been in days.

"I don't need you to fix my car. I can take care of this myself." She grabs her keys from where I shoved them in my front pocket, the overflow making them easy to retrieve. "Give me my phone. I'll call Lydia to come get me and then tomorrow I can have one of the girls fix whatever's wrong."

Her voice is a little wobbly, and it has me turning her way. There's a panicked look in her eyes, and I don't fucking like it.

"Why don't you want me to help you, Piper?" My question isn’t accusatory, just curious. Why does the thought of me replacing a simple battery have her skin pale and her breathing sharp?

"Because I can take care of myself. I don't need someone else to do it for me." She holds her hand out. "Now give me my phone."

I study her for a minute, taking the tiny fragments of what she's offered and fitting them together as best I can. It doesn't give me much, but there's enough there for me to understand Piper doesn't want to rely on anyone. It's a sentiment I appreciate an unfortunate amount.

"Okay." I lean against the front of her car as an idea forms. "Then how about I teach you to fix this? That way when it happens again, you'll know what to do."

6

SOME VIOLETS DON’T SHRINK

PIPER

I SHOULD NOT have let Tate help me with my car last night. I knew it would change things, and it did. Even more than our office interlude.

I could have handled a physical sort of interaction. I’ve wrapped my head around how our bickery dynamic could boil over. Could combust.

But Tate didn’t even try to kiss me last night. He was a perfect gentleman, patiently explaining each step of replacing my dead battery. Letting me do all the work and only stepping in when absolutely necessary. Like when it was time to lift the damn thing out. It weighed a freaking million pounds, and I was a little worried I’d get electrocuted if I touched the wrong spot.

Of a dead battery. That’s how messed up my brain was by what was happening.

And it’s still just as messed up today. Still just as glued to Tate’s every move as he goes about his day. Working in his office. Checking in on the girls in the back.

Loitering around the front desk.

He’s distracting as hell, and by the time five o’clock rolls around, I’m not sure if I want to run away or climb him like a tree.

Actually, I know which of those I’d most like to do. I just can’t. It’s been easy to write off my feelings for Tate as lust. Attraction. Sexual compatibility. But last night proved there’s more between us, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.

So I decide to run like the chicken I am. I know I can’t escape him forever, I just need a little space after being so close to him all day. A little time where the scent of his skin isn’t permeating my every breath. I’ve just got to finish the last of my front desk duties and then I can tuck tail and hide in my room.

Nancy and I are always the last two out, and tonight it’s killing me. I move as fast as I can through the process of closing out the desk, counting the money and filling a deposit bag, organizing all the credit card receipts, and setting up the coffee maker to start brewing at seven. By the time it’s all finished, I’m relieved—and maybe a tiny bit disappointed—to find Tate’s office is dark.

We’re almost to the back door when I notice I’m missing something. “Shit.” I shake my purse, hoping to see the conglomerate of keychains hiding in one of the pockets, but it’s not there. “I must have left my keys up front.” I wave her on. “You go.” Nancy still needs to drop the deposit bag off at the bank, and I don’t want to waste even more of her evening. “I’ll lock up.”

She stalls out just outside the back door, propping it open with one hip. “I’m not leaving you to walk out alone. Tate would kill me.”

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