Page 18 of Love You Truly

Her eyebrow notches up. I lean against the dark wood-paneled wall and glance toward the restrooms, wondering if it’s possible that Mallory has already slipped out a back door. I tend to doubt it, given that her ex could still be lingering outside.

“Mary. Nice to meet you.” She looks me over from head to toe and matches my stance. “That was…interesting back there.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t start it.” I hold up my hands like a caught thief.

“Nope, but you sure ended it. I didn’t think there was any kind of repellant for that wanker, but it turns out, you’re it.” The sound of an electric hand dryer hums behind us.

I laugh because her surly demeanor is a strange mix with the compliment. “You know him well?”

She shrugs. “Not really. I’ve only been in town for a bit, but he’s come around a few times trying to get Mallory to talk with him. She shuts him down every time. Easy when you have a front door to slam in his face. Harder here.”

“True. But not impossible.”

She nods slowly. “So you’ve proven.” Mary perks her head up at the sound of a toilet flush behind us. She gestures toward the restrooms with a tip of her head. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Send her back with fresh pints when you’re done talking.”

She leaves before I can ask what kind of beer they’re drinking, but I assume Mallory knows. A moment later, I hear the pop of a lock and accompanying shoulder against a door. Waving her hands to finish drying them, Mallory looks surprised to see me there.

“Oh. Hi. Were you waiting for that?” She gestures behind her, and I watch the mask of confident nonchalance return to her face. It’s exactly how she’s looked every time I’ve seen her in the past, which is why I had the impression of her as a manipulative socialite. Her demeanor always seemed practiced and polished to a sheen designed to get her what she wanted—usually a man.

But now I’ve caught glimpses of what lies behind that mask—vulnerability, disappointment, maybe even unease—I’m intrigued to know more.

I’m the last person who should be forming assumptions about a person when I know how few of the perceptions of me are actually true. That would be zero. Maybe I should wipe the slate clean when it comes to her, but I can’t until I understand her better.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

That seems to surprise her. “Oh. Okay.” She crosses her arms and hits me with a broad smile.

“Don’t do that.”

Her smile falters only slightly. She’s good at keeping this shit going. “Do what?”

“Pretend to be happy to see me. Or smile when you’d rather not.”

She doesn’t relent. The smile stays, and she assesses me in a way she didn’t have time to earlier. Her glance runs from my face to my shoes, then back to my face, where her gaze lingers.

“You wear glasses.”

Not what I’m expecting her to say. “Yeah. It helps when I want to see things.”

“You didn’t have them on at Sunshine Foods that day.” She looks away and snaps her lips shut. Like a confession slipped out. I tuck that nugget of information away, interested that she remembers something from a month ago so clearly. It would be like me remembering the color of her sweater that day.

Red. Crimson red like a fucking fire truck.

I shrug. “Probably why I didn’t recognize you at first in the store. Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I think we’re even now.”

I can’t help the canary-eating cat grin that’s spreading across my face. “Oh, we are so not even. First of all, I want details. Lots of details. And second, is this the only time you’ll be requiring my services as fake fiancé?”

A tiny bit of the facade drops, and her practiced smile fades into one of actual amusement. “You’re serious.”

“Damn straight.”

“No thanks. This was a one-time, get me out of a bind thing. And I appreciate it. I’ll buy you a beer, okay? Good enough?”

I hold up the one in my hand, which I’ve barely sipped. “Don’t need a beer.”

“What, then?”

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