“Which means you’re…,” he prompted.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m Lucy and you’re my boyfriend. You know, if it were anybody else but you, I’d think this was an elaborate excuse to get into my pants.”
Ward gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “It’s not.”
“I know.”
He glanced at her. She had a suggestive grin plastered on her face. “That’s not happening.” He’d rather chew off his own hand than be with someone that self-obsessed again.
“I know.” The way she said it, he had a feeling she meant the opposite.
“Believe me,Lucy, the only agenda here is your safety.”
“Believeme, Warden, you’ve made that crystal clear.” She stared out the window for a minute, then turned back to him with a maliciously gleeful smile. “But that’s what makes this so delightful. You have to be nice to me and pretend you like me in public. You have to hold my hand and buy me dinner and say things like ‘honey’ and ‘dear’ and ‘sweetheart.’”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Angel?”
He snorted.
“Cookie?”
“No.”
“Love of my life? Princess?”
“Hell no.” He sped up. Maybe he could shave some time off this trip.
“If you hate the idea of dating me so much, why didn’t you come up with some other cover story besides girlfriend-boyfriend? It’s so cliché.”
“Like what?” He took the next exit. They’d take back roads the rest of the way into town.
“I could be a distant cousin or something. Oh! Or a wealthy investor for your new company.” She sounded more enthusiastic than she had the entire trip. “The backstory writes itself. Iinsisted on seeing your hometown so I know what kind of man I’m getting into bed with. So to speak. Hey, when you think about it, I actuallyaman investor. Kind of. Through Renic, of course.”
“No, you’re not.” He bit down on the rest of what he wanted to say about her having any sort of say in his business. That wasn’t the way to keep a client’s cooperation. He schooled his tone into something he hoped was reasonable, patient. “You can’t be my cousin. Everyone knows my cousins.”
“Girlfriend it is, then.” She did an excited little hop. “Oooo, that makes me the mysterious out of towner, come to steal the local boy away. Your mom is going to justloveme, isn’t she?”
A flash of old pain echoed through him. “Stepmother. My mother is dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged it off. “It was a long time ago.”
A minute passed in silence.
“Does your family know?”
“Know what?” He’d sent a text telling Dad that he’d be home and that he was bringing a friend.
He’d received a one-word response:Okay.
It was amazing how much meaning one word could carry. With two syllables his father had managed to say,She must be something special if you’re bringing her home to meet usandYou do realize how long it’s been since you visitedandThe house is a bit musty and there’s no food, are you sure you want to stay there?andThere’s something going on, son, and I’ll figure it out sooner or later.
“Do they know about me?”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically for emphasis. “Nobody knows anything about who you really are or why you’re really here. We’re not telling them. That’s crucial. Don’t think about,talk about, or listen to anything Della Bellamy related. You’ve never even heard of Della Bellamy. Okay?”