Page 66 of Tell Me Something True

He ducked his head, dropped his gaze to the sidewalk.

Shit. Didn’t he already know she saw too much? She’d obviously figured out he didn’t trust his old man around his dog.

He didn’t trust his father, but he did trust her.

He slapped his gloves against his hand. “What’ll I owe you?”

“What?”

“For watching Titus. What’ll I owe you?”

It was what he’d do. Demand repayment for favors given.

Hell, it was what he had done at the beginning of summer when he helped get her car out of that ditch. Then he’d held that debt over her head until he’d used it as an excuse to get her to dance with him at Patton’s wedding.

“I guess you will owe me,” she said, slow and thoughtful, like he’d just given her a great idea.

Even Princesses could sink low if the price was high enough.

“What do you want?”

“I want this” —she gestured between them— “to not happen again. If you see me, don’t talk to me. If we’re in the same space, leave. You’re good at walking away from me,” she added, words soft, tone snide. “Should be easy enough for you to do.”

He studied her. Told himself it was to poke at her a bit more with his silence and his sneer. Not because he was memorizing her features, taking note of each freckle dotting her nose and upper cheeks, that patch of brown in her right eye, the fullness of her lower lip, the perfect bow of her upper one.

“You’re right, princess. That will be easy for me to do.”

To prove it, he shut his truck’s door, then turned and headed toward the blonde without a word.

But it was another lie. The biggest one yet.

Because walking away from her had never been easy.

And it was getting harder and harder to do.

Chapter 13

He would not jump to conclusions, Miles promised himself as headed up the walk toward Kat’s place, dark aviators protecting his eyes from the brilliant mid-morning sun. He passed Reed Walsh’s truck—he’d pulled the kid Walsh over enough times to recognize it.

He’d gather evidence. Ask questions. Then he’d figure out what was going on.

Like why Walsh was here.

Or why Verity had sent him a picture of Tabitha standing in Kat’s front yard, a moving truck behind her, along with an SOS text.

Or why that moving truck was still in the driveway, the rear door open, the metal ramp extended, the back filled with boxes and miscellaneous pieces of furniture.

Forget gathering evidence. He didn’t need to be a goddamn detective to know what was going on.

Tabitha was moving into the apartment above Kat and Ian.

And her being here was going to fuck with his life but good.

He’d known she was lying that night three weeks ago when she’d said she was just passing through town. He’d known, but he’d let it go. He hadn’t pushed for the truth, hadn’t tried to dig to the bottom of her sudden appearance in town or her unexpected return to his life.

He hadn’t wanted the truth.

He’d just wanted her.

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