Page 32 of Never Kiss and Tell

“Of course. It was a car accident. We were coming home from a movie. A semi driver fell asleep, ran across the highway, and hit our car.”

“How old were you? Were you hurt?”

I lift the corner of my shirt and show the scar on my side.

“I was fourteen. I don’t remember much, just the noise of them cutting the car open to get me out.”

Bruno shakes his head, setting the potato peeler down.

The back door opens behind us and Lionel walks in. He catches my eye, grinning.

“Bailey, baby girl,” he cheers, taking me and spinning me around toBrandythat plays on the small radio in the corner. “What are you doing here so early?”

I laugh, dizzy and stumbling as he twirls me in a circle.

“I came to help.”

“Prettiest girl this side of the Mississippi,” he jokes, batting his long fake eyelashes at me.

Sudden electricity seems to crackle throughout the room and we both pause. Charlie stands in the doorway of the now open office, his eyes narrowed on me. A chill runs down my spine, forcing a shiver to coast through me.

I read the message loud and clear. We all disperse and I go back to slicing potatoes while Bruno disappears into the walk-in cooler in the back. I can feel Charlie’s gaze on me, burning a hole through the center of my back. A bead of sweat trickles down between my shoulder blades and I’m suddenly very thirsty.

“Why are you here?” Charlie asks, his voice cold and harsh. He steps up to the counter beside me, his arms folded across his chest, the bands of his muscles bulging. Looking at his face, his eyes are dark, clouded with complete disgust. I could swear he hates me more than a piece of chewed gum on the bottom of his shoe.

“Your dad asked me to come in and help,” I shrug, looking back down at my task. I had thought I’d made a little bit of progress with him last night, but now I can see that he’s still the same, loathing asshole he’s been since I arrived. “That not alright with you?”

“You really want to work from open to close, be my guest.”

He turns to walk away, but I stop him with a hand on his arm. He looks down at me like I’ve burned him. Anger flashes in his eyes and he pulls his arm away. I ignore the small jab to my self-esteem.

“Thank you for dealing with the Mani issue. I appreciate it.”

His face softens, but only for a moment, before he turns without a word and heads out to the bar.

I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. As far as dirty looks go, Charlie Coulter has cornered the market.

Monica Parker 1:10 pm: Your sister has taken up knitting something she calls bralettes.

Monica Parker 3:42 pm: Do you think Spike is mentally unstable? Should I be worried about Savannah? I think he’s a devil worshipper.

Monica Parker 4:27 pm: Mason called. You would think he would be married, by now. You too.

Jesus Christ. You would think I’m my mother’s diary with the things she texts me. I know she’s bored, probably at home most of the day, but I don’t have time for this. Sometimes it’s like having a teenage daughter to worry about.

I must be grimacing at my phone when Lionel slides up to the window and sets a plate of food down that’s not for one of my tables.

“Why the scowl,cheré?”

I roll my eyes. “Nothing. Just the stupid things my mother texts me.”

He gives me a strange look for a moment and I almost think I upset him.

“Your mom do that, too?” I ask, laughing nervously.

He doesn’t look at me. “Nope. Died before cell phones were a big thing.”

Shit.

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