Bending down to return the hug, Miles kissed the top of his nephew’s head. “Bye, buddy.” He looked over at Verity. “Not going to ask me if I want to stay for lunch?”
“Spend another hour watching you pretend not to be watching Tabitha? No thanks. My day’s been uncomfortable enough so far. Not to mention the sexual tension between you two is thick enough to suffocate innocent bystanders and I’d rather that not be Ian or me. It’s also not something I want to subject myself to for one minute longer than necessary.” She gave a dramatic shudder. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“You could have just said no.”
“Eh, I could have. But where’s the fun in that?”
She took Ian’s hand and walked away.
Without saying anything to Reed.
When she paused at the door to bend over and whisper something to Reed’s dog while giving him a pat on the head, it was Miles who elbowed Reed in the side.
Much, much harder than Tabitha had done.
“Stop staring at my sister’s ass,” Miles ground out.
Rubbing his side, Reed smirked, but it was at odds with the flush climbing his throat. “No worries, Assistant Chief. Your princess is safe from me.” Turning his back on Miles, he held out the extra hundred Tabitha had given him. “Here.”
She did the Verity trick of tucking her hands behind her back. “That’s a tip.”
“We agreed on two hundred.”
“That was before I knew the working conditions would be less than ideal for you. Or that there’d be so many Jennings involved.”
“I’ve had it worse.”
She could see that. And not because she was a trained and licensed social worker. It was clear to her that wherever he came from, whatever he’d been through, had made him cautious. Wary. Mistrustful.
Because she’d had it worse, too.
Like knew like. Always.
“That’s all the more reason for you to accept a well-deserved bonus when it’s offered to you.”
Mouth thinning, he glanced at Miles who was, of course, watching them oh so very carefully. Reed stepped closer, ducking his head so he could speak close to her ear. “Maybe. But it’s also how I know that you can’t afford to give me a bonus.”
Her gaze flew first to Miles—found him, no surprise, scowling at them, not liking being excluded from the conversation—then to Reed. Her pride pushed her to lie and she might have, but Reed wasn’t looking at her with pity.
He was looking at her with compassion. Understanding.
And enough stubbornness for her to realize this wasn’t just about her pride.
It was about his, too.
And she refused to take that away from him.
Even if it dinged hers.
Taking the bill, she curled it in her hand, crumpling it along with the one she’d tried to give Verity. “I’d invite you to join us for pizza, but I’m not sure that would go over well with the local authorities.”
Another smirk, he had dozens of them, all varying degrees of amusement, scorn, and cockiness. “Probably not. But you don’t have to worry about the assistant police chief. He’s too by-the-book to trump up any charges.”
“Tabitha doesn’t share your high opinion of me,” Miles said, mild and bone-dry.
“I was teasing,” she assured him quickly, blushing so hard her scalp prickled. “You have no idea what I think of you.”
“Whose fault is that?” he asked softly.