Page 39 of Love You Truly

Unfortunately, my sister is like a bloodhound when it comes to uncovering secrets. It’s her superpower. One look at me when I walked in tonight, and she knew something was up. She’s been plastered to my side, trying to get to the bottom of it ever since.

“You did something different with your hair,” she accuses.

“Did not.”

“You smell…different. Like fresh soap instead of that sport-scented body spray you think women like.”

“You’re insane. I don’t wear body spray.”

“And you’re…fidgety. Why do you keep checking the door? What’s the big deal if Mallory arrives fashionably late? That’s normal for her.”

“You know why. We’re supposed to be seen together, and I want it to go smoothly.”

Even the strongest of people would find it hard not to cave under the questioning scrutiny of my sister, but I usually manage to send her chasing some new bit of gossip because I’m observant and I notice things.

Case in point: Lloyd Perkins stands alone at the bar, checking his phone every two minutes. He’s hoping he’ll hear his Reserve Cabernet has gotten a “best of” designation in Wine Spectator magazine.

Across the room, Sally Perkins, Lloyd’s wife, holds court with a group of friends, laughing and trying to get her husband’s attention because he’s been so focused on work that she feels sidelined. Every minute or so, she glances in his direction, but she misses it each time his eyes roam toward her.

I point these things out to Beatrix, but she seems way more interested in why I keep eyeing the door to the place.

“I’m just looking around, being observant, like always.”

Noticing things makes me good at my job, like finding the right employee for the right position, which is often completely different from what they think they want. I shouldn’t be noticing everyone in the room right now, not when my sleuth of a sister clocks my every move.

“Being observant about Mallory, you mean.” Her eyebrows go up so high they nearly hit her hairline. “You like her.”

“No. I just want it to go well.”

“You really like her. Tell me, or I’ll corner her when she comes in and make things very uncomfortable for the two of you.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, it’s happening, pal, unless you spill it right now. What’s with you and Mallory?”

I glare at her. She glares back. I take a step away and turn my back. She comes around to the other side of me and gets in my space. Now I can’t see the door, and I’m even more edgy, so I turn back around, too overwrought to fend her off.

“You should work for the government, Trix. Spies would be flipping and blurting secrets left and right.”

Beatrix smiles. “Yeah? And what are yours?”

With a glass of wine already coursing through my bloodstream, I tell her that I may have felt a twinge of interest the few times we’ve been together. “And that’s all.”

She gives me a knowing smile, but I know I can trust my sister not to say a word to the rest of my family. She may know how to get information out of anyone, but she’s discreet and trustworthy.

Ordinarily, I’d let it go. It’s no one’s business who I fuck or why, but in this case, I feel the need to be clear. “It’s purely business for both of us. We’re only keeping up the appearance that we’re a couple. It stops as soon as we’re out of the public eye.”

Ironically, this plan and the time I’ve spent texting back and forth all week with Mallory have me twisted in knots. I expected the all-business Mallory once we made it clear we were co-conspirators, but instead, her texts have been flirty, teasing, and fun. If I’m not careful, I could fall for my own lies about us being a couple.

Relax, asshole. She has boundaries, even if you don’t.

“Okay.” She holds up her hands in protest. “Whatever you say.”

“That’s what I say,” I bark. The anticipation has my skin crawling with nerves. I need Mallory to get here already so I can stop thinking about how all this will go down. The last time I remember feeling jittery like this was when I was in that damn play.

“Ugh, he’s here.” She tips her head at where Graham, our half brother, stands near the bar drinking red wine.

“Cleans up okay. At least he owns a suit,” I say.

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