Page 37 of Secondhand Secrets

Then again, what ARE we to each other?

Barely even friends. So maybe I don’t have a right to assume anything.

“Anyway”—Greg’s voice pulled at her attention, his chin dipping and his stare drilling into her—“let’s just say, we’re making Chip pick up the tab tonight. The man is on the fast track to becoming a multi-millionaire.”

“What?” Her voice squeaked, and a sharp ache dug at the insides of her throat. Not because of the money, so much as the magnitude of how little she knew about a man she’d just shared a hugely intimate few hours with.

“That’s highly presumptuous.” Jamie reached out and patted the table between her and Ally, shaking her head as though she caught Ally’s surprise and mild heartbreak. “Forget about what Greg said. As you can see from his obsession with Ibanez, he likes to get ahead of himself.”

“Like hell, I do.” Greg snapped his posture into an impossibly straight position, his chin near disappearing into his neck. “I see Olaf Garner, the Encode winner from two years ago, all the time. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t pull up to the office in his yellow Ferrari, flashing cash, and dating supermodels like it’s nothing. By the way, the Ferrari alone costs like, six hundred grand, only a fraction of what the guy makes since his project went public.”

An icy shiver zinged up Ally’s spine, and she tried not to visibly tremble.

Why didn’t Chip tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?

Had he simply forgotten? But as Greg had said, this was big news. Not the sort of thing someone as sharp-minded as Chip just “forgot.”

Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought. Maybe she’d held on to far too much of the well-meaning boy she’d once known. Maybe the man she’d been with today wasn’t so innocent after all, his lack of transparency a testament to the distance he intended to keep with her. She’d voiced a desire to get out of Harlow. It wasn’t a stretch that Chip might fear she’d see him as her ticket out.

Then again, his motivations for secrecy could be far worse. That he used her as a way to blow-off steam while he finished his work in this sleepy and otherwise boring town. He’d abandon her once again, only his path this time led to a far more glamorous destination—so far removed from anything anyone in Harlow could ever imagine.

“Okay. Ready to go?” The man himself entered the room, and everyone turned to Chip in another heavy and collective silence. He peered about, his bright and unassuming smile dipping to a small frown. “What? What did I miss?”

Her heart gave an uncomfortable and hard thump. She hated where her mind had gone with regards to this man. Hated that she had to hide her raging and raw emotions in front of him and his friends.

So she rose from her seat and tried not to wince at the pitchy scrape of those metal legs over the floorboards. “I think I’ll go. This is a reunion between college friends, and I’m not one.” She offered Chip a tight smile and mini wave as she powered toward the exit. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, maybe.”

Her heart lurched once more, the uncertainty behind her “maybe” literal in meaning. The front door loomed just up ahead, but the steady pound of Chip’s footfall caught her all too soon.

“Hey”—heavy hands landed on her shoulders, and he spun her around, his gaze darting about her face in a probable search for reasons behind her hurried exit—“I’m sorry, my friends…”

His intimate whisper trailed, but his hand snaked around her waist as though he’d already figured her mood ran deeper than today’s already unpleasant surprise visit.

But even as she reeled at her far-too-sobering brush with reality, the touch of his hand at her waist sent a small flutter through her tummy. There he went again. Literally. Figuratively. Pulling her in.

“This…” She paused, clearing her throat to distract from the hot prickle behind her eyes. “It’s all too much.”

The tension across his brow dropped, and his expression turned slack and incredulous. “Which part exactly? My friends showing up, or—”

Not wanting to hear him talk of their intimate moment, she squeezed her eyes shut and uttered, “Everything. It’s everything.”

And as she opened her eyes again, she schooled her voice into something more defiant than a rough whisper, stabbing her finger toward the kitchen where his friends sat. “I have nothing in common with your friends. I mean, sure, there’s one girl there, but she’s—”

“A geek?” A smile wobbled the corner of his lip.

“Yes, a geek. And your friends intimidate me. So, I can’t go to Maynard’s with you. The conversation will get technical, and I’ll have nothing to do but down one drink after another, which will only make you regret inviting me along.”

“I doubt that.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and leaned into him, tracing a finger along his hairline for no other reason than, at this rare moment, she still could. “Remember in sixth grade when our school ran a math competition? Not only did you beat the rest of the school, but you went all the way to place second at the nationals.”

His brow drew, the new wrinkles there belying confusion. “Yeah?”

“Remember how I was like the third student knocked out in our class, just behind Paul Chester and Paolo Diaz—a kid who could probably still do math way better than me but for being only in his fifth week of living in an English-speaking country?”

His mouth curled into a small smile. Even back then, he’d found humor in her academic failure. Though to be fair, most times, she did too. “Yeah?”

“Well”—she eased back and out of his hold—“that’s what it feels like when I’m talking to your friends.”

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