Page 78 of Another Girl Lost

I’d never met Charlie, and realizing he knew me wasn’t a great feeling. “That’s me.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Where else do I know you?”

“I have one of those faces,” I said.

Luke cleared his throat. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Got it. Enjoy.” Charlie walked back to the counter.

“He’s currently putting the pieces together,” I said. “Old articles on the internet never die.”

“You didn’t give an interview. At least, I didn’t find one. Tiffany Patterson received the most airtime.”

“But articles were written. And Tiffany seemed to like the attention. Reporters called me dozens of times, but I never spoke to any one of them. I still don’t answer unfamiliar numbers.” My business number was widely published, so it wasn’t hard to find me. But voicemail screened my calls. “I also make it a point to know what’s being said about me. A fifty-fifty chance someone doesn’t believe me.”

“Really? What don’t they believe?” he asked.

“That I was Tanner’s victim. Some think I was his accomplice.”

“How do they square that peg?”

“He worked a construction project near my mother’s house. I did flirt with him once. I did willingly follow Della to his van. I did try to lure Tiffany into the same van. Those facts can sway anyone—including a few cops—against me.” My chest still tightened when I thought about someone questioning my story.

The drunks laughed, and the short one looked toward me and winked. I curled my fingers into a fist.

“I see him,” Luke said. “He’s not going to bother you.”

I looked up to find Luke staring at me. Hints of steel mingled with an odd kind of softness. “I’m fine. Sometimes guys just stare.” I bit into my burger. Another Tanner lesson: eat when food was presented. The days of deprivation were always still too close.

“It’s good,” I said.

He wiped his hands carefully with a paper napkin. “I like Charlie. He became a client, and long story short, I’m glad to give him the business.”

“Support small business. We must look out for each other.”

“I think we did it,” he said easily.

“What’s that?”

He glanced at his watch. “If you count the time that you were climbing the wall, I think we’ve almost broken your date-night record.”

I grinned. “We already set that record.”

“And it’s now broken.”

The differences between us were noisy and rowdy. We weren’t anus, but I saw possibilities. “I’m on a streak.”

Carnal desire, knotted with control. He’d not made one move to touch me or uttered any suggestion that was remotely sexual. Poor guy was trying to figure out what to do with me.

I set down my burger, struggling to get my arms around my own blurring emotions. I liked him. Wanted more. But I still didn’t know how to define it. “When anyone knows my history, they treat me as if they’re expecting me to shatter or freak out.”

“You’ve already freaked out, so we can check that box.”

A smile tugged my lips. “All the more reason to wonder how I’ll react in the future, right?”

He balled up the napkin. “Never a dull moment.”

I chuckled, but I worried that I would see another “Della” and lose it. “That’s a positive outlook.”

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