Page 13 of If We Never Met

"No need to apologize. I came to Whisper Lake hoping for privacy, but it doesn't look like that will happen. Someone tipped off the press."

"Does it really matter if they get a photo of you?"

He smiled at her question. "It's not the photo, it's how it's manipulated, the narrative it suddenly tells, a story that might be completely far from the truth. In a photo of us together, you would be my mystery woman. You would be the reason why I'm in Whisper Lake and not rehabbing in Miami. Your life would be invaded by press. You'd find yourself answering questions about a man you just happened to be standing next to when the camera clicked. But no one would care, because they'd already been told a story that was far more interesting and completely made up."

Her eyes had widened with his every word—her big, beautiful brown eyes that were so expressive, he could read her every emotion. She really was exceptionally pretty, but in a different way than most women he met these days. There was something very real and natural about her. If she had makeup on, he couldn't see it. Not that she needed it.

"I guess a picture of us together would be difficult for the woman you're seeing," she said slowly. "Is that what you're really worried about?"

"That's part of it."

"Wouldn't she believe you if you told her the truth?"

"That I'd bought fish tacos for a woman after pretending to be her date and then rescued her from her real date?"

"Good point. That story does sound…fishy."

He grinned at her words. "Exactly."

"Has she dealt with this kind of thing before, photos of you with another woman?"

"No. We haven't been seeing each other that long."

"How long is long?"

"Two months before I got injured. Since then, we haven't seen much of each other."Was that relief that entered her gaze?

"I guess that isn't long enough to build complete trust in each other," Keira said. "But if you have a good relationship, I'm sure she'd believe you."

"Nikki knows how the media can spin a picture, so she'd probably believe me. I just didn't want to deal with all that. So, I ran."

"You were fast. I didn't even see where you went."

"I ducked around the bar, went in and out of a few other places, and then ended up at a coffeehouse for the last hour where I got to hear bad guitar and even worse poems."

Her smile blossomed across her face once more. "It's open mic night at the Java Blast."

"There was one guy who played the sax who was good, but everyone else should have saved their performance for the shower or their living room."

"I think it's brave when people take the stage and put themselves out there."

"Have you ever done it?"

"No way. I am good at a lot of things, but not music or poetry." She gave him a speculative look. "Do you have more talents than being able to throw a baseball?"

Before he could answer, a loud burst of laughter drew their attention to the living room. "I'm keeping you from your friends," he said.

She frowned as the older woman continued to laugh and the man sitting next to her on the couch put his hand on her shoulder.

"No way. No touching," Keira muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. I need to interrupt that."

"Interrupt what?"

"Whatever that man is attempting to do with my mother." She stomped into the living room.

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