Page 31 of Tell Me No Lies

I turn to Tate’s house. The lights are all on, like they have been lately, so I cut across the grass and make my way up to his front porch. I knock lightly because I don't want to announce to the whole neighborhood where I am. It's not that I think they would have a problem with it, it's just that—like with Nancy—Tate and I having a conversation is none of their business.

Within a few seconds of knocking, I can hear his heavy footsteps as they come down the unfinished flooring of the main hall. The door swings open and I let out a little breath when I see him. He's been a little more distant since Nancy saw us having dinner together earlier in the week, and I don't like it. Not just that he hasn't been finding excuses to come around me, but that Nancy seeing us together made him feel like he was doing something wrong.

He's not. And neither am I.

“Hey.” I try, and fail, to keep my eyes on his face. He’s still wearing his work clothes, but they’re way dirtier now than they were when he left the shop. They’re dotted with something gray and sloppy looking. “What’s all over you?”

His eyes dip as one callused hand wipes at the worn fabric of his T-shirt, smearing whatever the gray stuff is. "It's drywall compound." His attention comes back to my face, concern creasing the spot between his dark brows. "Is everything okay?"

I smile, even though everything is not okay. "Yeah. You just said I could come over whenever I wanted, so, here I am."

Tate blocks the doorway a second longer before finally stepping back, giving me room to come inside. He doesn't seem thrilled about my presence, but I'm not gonna let it hurt my feelings. I get it.

And I could freaking smack Nancy in the face with a wet sponge for showing up when we were having dinner the other night and making Tate question every second he spends with me. I don't want to cause her pain, just annoy her the way she’s annoyed me.

The air inside Tate's house feels different as I move into the foyer. Before, it was a little dusty smelling even though there was no dust anywhere. There's a certain smell that an unfinished house has, and his definitely had that smell.

But the new scent hanging in the air isn’t anything I’m familiar with. It’s almost minerally and damp. Not necessarily unpleasant, just strange.

My eyes travel up the two-story entryway, following the path of the brand-new walls to where they meet the brand-new ceiling. "Holy shit. You have been busy." I'm not sure what it's supposed to look like at this stage. There's a bunch of seams and screw holes, but all the studs are covered and everything is fit together perfectly, so I say, "It looks really good." I peek his way, offering a grin. "Almost like an actual house."

Tate’s chest puffs up a little at my praise, and he seems to relax some. "If you think this looks good, you should come see the back."

I follow him down the center hall and into the open area that’s split into a kitchen on the right and a family room on the left. Last time I was here, they were both just like the rest of the house. Nothing but studs and subflooring and exposed wire. The subfloor is still there, but the studs and wiring are all now hidden behind the sheets of drywall I watched him hang from across the yard.

But these sheets have a more finished appearance thanks to the gray mush Tate’s spread across all the seams and screw holes. Without those showing, I can almost imagine what the space will look like when it's done. "This is pretty fantastic." I move closer to the back wall, inspecting the neat lines of compound spread across the boards. "How do you know how to do all this?"

Tate sets the lid on a bucket of something and stomps it into place with his boot before collecting some scraper looking things and carrying them to a bucket of water. "I don't know how to do all of it, but I can figure it out." He dips the tools into the water, rinsing the compound away before setting them on a towel to dry. "YouTube is a pretty helpful thing."

I do a slow spin, looking over all his hard work. "It's pretty cool that you're not afraid to tackle something like this."

He continues cleaning off the rest of his tools, giving me a shrug. "It's not about being cool, I'm just too cheap to pay someone else to do it."

"I get it." He finishes rinsing off another tool, but before he can set it down, I take it from him and line it up next to the others. "I've done a fair bit of curb shopping, and a lot of what I’ve found needed work, so I figured out how to make it happen. Over the years I've painted dressers and repaired a lot of drawers. I attempted upholstery, but sucked at it, so now I try to stick with hard surfaces."

Tate rinses another tool, but instead of trying to lay it down, he passes it off. "You might want to start keeping an eye on curbs again. We’re gonna need a shit load of furniture to fill this place."

I take the tool and add it to the collection. "Does that mean you're willing to hang out with me again?"

Tate hands over the final implement. "I've always been willing to hang out with you."

I shake my head. "You've been avoiding me since Nancy saw us at dinner Monday." My lower lip pushes out in a pout and I don't try to stop it. "You've barely been coming to the front desk at all. And every time I pass your office, the door is closed."

Tate rocks back to sit on his heels, blowing out a breath. "I'm your boss, Piper. I hire women who've been abused. Give them a safe place to work. To make money of their own so they never have to rely on someone else again." He rakes one hand through his hair, dragging a thin line of gray squish through the dark strands. "What would they think if they found out..."

He drifts off, but I'm not gonna let that thought go unfinished.

"If they find out we’re fucking?" I lean closer so he can't avoid what I'm saying. "If they found out two consenting adults are choosing to spend time together?"

"I'm—"

I hold one finger up, cutting him off. "If you’re about to spew some bullshit at me about how being my boss will miraculously make me incapable of telling you to fuck off, then I'm gonna tell you to fuck all the way off." I cross my arms, giving him a glare. "And then I'm gonna make you buy me noodles and chicken from my favorite Chinese restaurant." He tries to open his mouth, but I continue speaking, getting louder. "Plus an order of crab rangoon."

I understand what Tate’s trying to say–really I do. He's trying to be a good man. He's trying to do the right thing.

He's just misguided.

But after everything I've dealt with tonight, I really don't have it in me to continue arguing about it. I stand up, wobbling a little on my sore foot. "You know what? Never mind. If you think spending time around me is wrong, then don't do it."

---