Page 11 of The Pretender

“You say that as if you think all family secrets are the same.” She almost laughed at the thought. “My great-aunt Barbara married her brother-in-law, but that’s not what we’re talking about here, are we?”

“Naughty Aunt Barbara.”

The back-and-forth, the verbal sparring, felt oddly good. Gabby couldn’t remember the last time she joked with anyone. “Did I mention she was still married to Uncle Thaddeus at the time she took on his brother, too?”

“I hope there wasn’t a third sibling. The poor woman would have been exhausted.” Harris looked up at the porch ceiling. “For the record, would that be trigamy?”

Laughter escaped her and she almost didn’t recognize the sound. “Probably. Try to top that.”

“I’m not trying to get into a competition with you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m just saying circumstances can stack up and sometimes people mistake a pile of innuendo and happenstance for facts.”

She lowered both feet, stopping the chair midrock. “But you don’t?”

“I make my own decisions about people.”

No, too easy. The camaraderie, the gentle back and forth. She didn’t have to work at talking with him or weigh her words. They’d known each other for all of an hour, probably less, and her usual defenses crumbled. She didn’t feel the rushing panic to shut down the conversation before she said too much. That scared the hell out of her.

She mentally slammed on the brakes and retreated to that place where she questioned every nice gesture and doubted every intention. “Well, I hope you’re being paid well for your time, Harris.”

The snap returned to her tone. He must have heard it or sensed a change because for a few seconds he sat there not talking. His gaze roamed over her face, as if he were assessing her.

“My services aren’t free.” He sat up straight again. “But your uncle is not paying me. I’m independent.”

That didn’t even sound real. “Sure you are.”

Harris shook his head. “You sound so skeptical.”

It was possible Harris didn’t fully understand his role, but she doubted it. He struck her as a smart guy. He knew what to say and when to pour on the charm. It was hard to imagine him being caught up in her uncle’s scheme without knowing it. “Uncle Stephen is going to try to use you for intel. He’s determined to gather enough information to have me arrested.”

“Is there intel to gather?”

Now, that sounded like a guy on her uncle’s payroll. “As you pointed out, we all have secrets.”

“I’m here to do a job.” He held up a finger. “One job. Following you and reporting back on how many hours you sit on the porch isn’t part of it.”

Possibly, but she still intended to be wary. “The investigator is coming. We have a caretaker and his son here, working to keep the property in order. A boat comes back and forth.”

“Meaning?”

“There are about to be a lot of people in and around this piece of land.”

“Good thing there are plenty of beds.”

The comment spun around in her head. “You’re staying here?”

Harris groaned. “Your uncle didn’t tell you?”

“Believe it or not, we don’t share a lot of information.”

“Yeah, I can’t exactly imagine the two of you having brunch.”

“Depends. Do people scream at each other at brunch?” She’d survived a decade of yelling. It had been exhausting. Now that only silence surrounded her, she missed the yelling.

“They did in my family.”

She wanted to ask, to know more about him and what that meant. She clamped down on that instinct, too.

“My parents were big fans of the quiet condemnation.” She shook her finger in the air.“We’re disappointed in you, Gabrielle.”

---