Page 30 of Never Kiss and Tell

I surge away from her and yank the gate door open and move out onto the street.

“Charlie, no!” Bailey snaps, grabbing hold of my arm and doing her best to yank me back.

“Go home, Bailey,” I tell her over my shoulder.

“Please, don’t,” she begs. “I’m fine! I’m just tired. Your sister had me up at eight in the morning.”

“Go to bed. I can handle this.”

“Please don’t leave me here by myself.”

I stop.

I can hear the fear in her voice. When I turn to face her, I can see dark black streaks running down her cheeks.

“Fine,” I concede, angry enough to know that I shouldn’t seek out Mani tonight, anyway. “But first thing tomorrow, he’s done. We don’t tolerate that kind of shit.”

Bailey visibly relaxes and steps back in the gate. I follow her down the path, stopping when she unlocks the back door to the other house.

“You okay in there?”

She bites her bottom lip, searching my face with narrowed eyes.

“Yes.”

I open my own door and go to step inside.

“Charlie?” she says from the doorway. I meet her gaze, and there’s something different there. Respect, maybe? “Thanks for walking me home.”

I don’t answer. I step inside, but wait for the click of her door before I shut my own.

Jesus fucking Christ, this woman is getting under my skin. I need her out of my system before I do something drastic.

One thing’s for certain, though. First thing in the morning, Mani is a fucking dead man.

Bailey

I wake up early to the sound of a loud engine on the street out front. Well, noon isn’t early, but when you’re up until past three in the morning the night before, it definitely feels that way. I blink against the bright light streaming through the windows and shield my eyes with my hand.

I get up and take my time showering, applying a little makeup before dressing in a pair of shorts and a black tank top.

I’m just sliding on some shoes when my phone buzzes on the night stand.

It’s not a number I recognize, but I decide to answer it, anyway.

“Bailey?” a familiar voice asks.

“Charles?” I ask, surprised that Mr. Coulter would be calling me so early. Instantly, my anxiety takes a turn for the worse and it’s everything I can do not to chew on my fingernails.

“Hey, sorry to bother you. Are you busy?”

“No, not at all,” I say, stepping out of my room and out to the courtyard. It’s a nice day out, but hot in the eighties, already.

“Well, I hate to ask you this because I know you already agreed to work tonight and you’re probably tired from yesterday . . .” his voice trails off and I chuckle.

“Do you need help? I can come in.”

Charles lets out a relieved sigh.

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