Page 49 of Tell Me No Lies

Next I go for her hair, unfastening the metal clip at the back before running my hands through the hairspray and teasing to smooth out the darker than normal strands. “It's fucking bullshit.”

Once her hair looks somewhat normal, I whip off my own button-up shirt before fighting off the white T-shirt underneath. and pulling it over Piper’s head. When I’m sliding the length of her dark strands free of the neckline I feel like I can finally breathe.

Piper lifts her brows at me. “Better?”

I'm still frowning. “I don't know if I would say better, but I don't feel like going into that ballroom and punching every asshat in there anymore, so I guess that's something.” I pull her close again, wrapping my arms around her back. Something hard presses into my forearm and Piper stiffens.

“I can explain —”

I lean to peek over her shoulder, lifting the back of my brand-new white T-shirt above her ass to find one of my flat-head screwdrivers twisted into the thin band of her G-string. “No explanation necessary.” I reach around and pull it free, holding it up. “It might not be a bad idea to keep it on you.”

Piper's eyes widen. “You really are upset about all this. Aren’t you?”

I go to rake one hand through my hair, but the gel I had to cake on makes the action impossible and I growl in frustration. “This is all just such fucking bullshit.”

“I don't disagree.” Piper's eyes move over my face before lifting to my hair. “Why don't you take a shower, and then we can talk, okay?”

Every muscle in my body is tight, and the only thing I want is her. To touch her. To show her how fucking brave I think she is. To show her how much I appreciate how hard she's working. To worship her the way so many of the men here worship themselves. But I'm afraid of where that might lead—what it might make me do.

Walking out of this place with her and never looking back isn’t an option, no matter how much I want to shield her from all of this. People are counting on me, so I have to figure out how to get my shit together.

So I do as I'm told, quickly scrubbing away the gel, hoping I can also wash away the misery I've been choking on.

When I come out of the bathroom, Piper is still in my T-shirt, but her hair is now pulled up into a messy knot at the top of her head. Standing at the counter of the small kitchenette in front of the griddle I packed, she flashes me a grin. “Feel better?”

I shrug, because I'm not sure I'll feel better until we’re back in Memphis. “My hair feels better.”

Piper's smile holds. “Good enough.” She tips her head to the small table in front of the window overlooking the tiny town outside. “Sit.”

I shake my head. “You've waited on me all night. I should—”

Piper’s smile slips as one brow lifts. “I said, sit.”

The snark and bossiness in her tone does more for my mental state than any amount of showering ever could. Rubbing one hand across the warmth in my chest, I give her a two fingered salute. “Yes, ma'am.”

Piper turns back to the counter as I clear off the small table and settle into one of the seats. I can’t get a good look at what she's doing, but the scent filling the air is familiar.

“I'm sure you'll be shocked to discover my dinner was nowhere near as fabulous as yours, so I'm fucking hungry as hell.” She turns to me with a paper plate in each hand. “I'm really glad we made that stop at the grocery store.” She drops down into the chair across from me, setting one of the paper plates in front of me and one in front of her.

The warmth in my chest tightens as I stare at the grilled cheese she made me. It looks the same as the grilled cheese I made for her, with one important difference.

My sandwich is neatly sliced into four triangles. “You cut it.”

Piper’s already eating hers like what she’s done is no big deal. Like I’m not already so fucking open and raw every inch of me aches.

And then she has to go and do something like this.

Her chewing slows, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to make another one? I thought—”

Without thinking, I grab her, dragging the softness of her body into my lap. “You’re fucking killing me here, Sugar.”

She curls into my chest, lacing both arms around my neck. “I’m just trying to be a good wifey.”

“You don’t need—”

Her fingers press against my mouth. “I don’t mean like that.” She snorts. “I will never be like any of these women here.” She traces along my lips. “I just mean I’m taking care of you the way you took care of me last night when I was worried and struggling.” Her lips quirk. “And when my foot was a little, tiny bit sore.” Her touch slides over my smooth jawline. “Tonight you’re struggling with everything that’s happening.” Her hand dips lower to rest against my chest. “And your heart hurts seeing all this. I want to make you feel better the way you made me feel better.”

I curve one hand against her face, letting my nose drag along her neck. “Then you should let me touch you. Show you how much I appreciate how fucking amazing you are.”

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