Page 30 of Lie With Me

“Wait a minute. If you think I’m going to let you walk away again without getting your number this time, you’re crazy.”

“They took your phone, didn’t they?” I ask, walking over to the dresser to grab one of the markers for marking the toys we use with the client’s pseudonyms.

He affirms my question with a hum as I reach out to grab his arm. Pushing his sleeve up, I quickly jot my number on the skin of his forearm. “When you get it back, just text me with details for tomorrow. Sound good?”

“You know if you gave me a fake number, I can ask Ginny, right?” He laughs as he rolls his sleeve back down.

“It’s not fake, I promise.” Tossing the marker onthe bed, I turn to leave, but his hand on my wrist stops me.

“You knew where I lived. Why didn’t you ever come back?” he asks softly.

I don’t turn around as I answer him. “We were strangers, Tripp. Wearestrangers. Me showing up would have only complicated things further. I didn’t want to keep lying to you about what I do for work.”

Gently, I rotate my wrist until he lets me go. “Women like me can’t form attachments. It’s bad for business. I’ll help you because I got you into this mess. Nothing else can happen, though. Do you understand?”

“I don’t think I can promise that. And I don’t think you can either. We have something special?—”

“It’s my job to have something special with the men I fuck.” I’m glad I’m still facing the door because tears unexpectedly sting my eyes. I don’t even know why.

Tripp is silent until I move to open the door. The last words I hear before I leave the room are, “Lie to yourself all you want, Lenni. You’re scared because you know I’m right.”

I’m afraid he might not be wrong.

RH Rooftop is bright and beautiful as the hostess takes me to where Tripp is already waiting in a corner booth. Tall trees and dripping crystal chandeliersadd a romantic ambiance to the space, even though it’s two in the afternoon and plenty of light still comes through the large windows. The booths are edged in greenery and shared with other tables, but it looks as though Tripp has ensured no one will be at any of the surrounding areas so we can discuss our plan in private.

When he sees me, he seems relieved. The tension melts from his body, his broody face brightening as his lips turn up and he takes me in. He’s wearing black slacks and a dark gray V-neck sweater over a white collared shirt, looking magazine-ready in what he considers casual Sunday clothing.

I’m aware I look like a charity project next to him, in my pleather leggings and worn combat boots. But the way the hostess sneered at my cropped black ripped-knit sweater and beanie when I walked in and told her I was meeting Tripp confirmed it.

“Hi. You look gorgeous. These are for you,” Tripp says as he stands and greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of deep pink roses.

I swear the hostess makes a snootyhmphwhile she walks away.

“Thank you for the flowers. I probably should have asked if there was a dress code,” I tell him as he helps me out of my puffer jacket and takes the bouquet back, placing it next to him in the booth.

“You look hot. What are you worried about?” He takes my beanie as I run my hand through my hair, tossing it with our coats in the space next to the table.

“Looking very much like I don’t belong here.Thanks, by the way, for meeting later. I usually close down the club, so, naturally, I’m a night owl. I hate early mornings.” Picking up my menu, I realize there aren’t many options and decide on the avocado toast.

“Good to know for our story. Bad, because my parents want to have breakfast with us on Tuesday.” His arm rests behind me; body angled into mine in a possessive way that suggests to onlookers that we’re intimately acquainted.

“Your parents?” I groan. “Already?”

“Afraid so, Viv.”

“Is it too late to back out? Can’t you just tell them the truth?”

Tripp waits to answer me until an approaching waitress takes our orders and leaves again. “My mom has been hounding me about what happened with Emily for the last year. This will get her off my back for a while. Of course, she will want to know everything about you, so we need to build a solid story.”

“What’s there to build? Our best friends are getting married, we met that way. We can just say Ginny and I work together and leave it at that.” His minty orange smell causes things low in my body to tighten, and I lean into him without meaning to.

Everything about us is natural. Tripp isn’t wrong about what he said last night. I’ve never had this level of connection with anyone, let alone someone I barely know. There’s no awkwardness in the way we gravitate toward each other. No stiffness in the way his fingers play with the ends of my hair, orhow my hand finds his knee as our legs press together.

He’s paying you to create an illusion. That’s all it is. You’re both good actors.

“We can try to leave it at that. My mother likes to play detective, though, and she’s going to question you about every little thing in your past?—”

“My past is off-limits. So you better figure out a way to keep her from digging around. End of discussion,” I snap, inwardly wincing at the harsh tone of my voice.

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