Page 42 of My Secret to Protect

‘Nick.’ Missy grins as she mentions her man. ‘Fine ashell. Knows. How. To.Fuck.’ Her eyes close as she clearly thinks about him doing just that. ‘And now Arlo, fine as hell, definitely knows how to use that monster dick of his.’

‘Oh my god.’ I groan but laugh, and it feels so good. My girls may be filthy little sex demons, they might hold interventions and call out my bullshit, but they’re the reason I feel so lucky, and they are the light relief I so need.

For now, at this very moment, at least, I feel good. I feel happy, and my worries couldn’t be further from my mind.

You’re Safe. Get Some Sleep

Bree

Makingmywayaroundto Arlo’s, I raise my hand to knock on the door, and it opens almost instantly. Arlo steps back to let me in, and I take a look around.

Stepping into this place is surreal. The last time I was inside this house, I was hooking up with the previous tenant, Tristan. That seems like a lifetime ago.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks as he locks the door behind me, and I shake my head.

‘Nothing of importance.’

He nods and holds my gaze for a moment before passing me to draw the curtains at the windows.

Beans trots into the room, his tail wagging his whole back end as he nudges my hip with his head, and I scratch behind his ears.

‘Hey, buddy,’ I greet the dog that I swear is smiling at me.

‘Phone,’ Arlo says quietly, and I blink up at him to find him holding out his hand.

‘What?’

He doesn’t respond with words, just continues to hold his hand out and widens his eyes until I hand over my cell phone and he turns it off and puts it into a box, then hands me another cell phone.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We’ll use these to contact each other about the plan.’ I stare down at the cell phone in my hand. ‘From now on, we assume he’s monitoring your phone, and we don’t want to alert him to the fact that this is fake.’ There he goes again.

‘So,burnerphones?’ I hold feel my eyebrows knit together as I stare at the phone, and he nods before turning and heading for the kitchen. Still in disbelief at the situation, I follow, closing my eyes when the scent of whatever he has cooking hits my nostrils and distracts me from my spiraling focus on the phone. ‘That smells incredible,’ I admit, unable to stop myself.

‘I thought we should sit inside tonight, so I made pasta instead of grilling. We need to do some planning.’

‘Planning?’

Arlo points to the open bottle of wine on the table to my right. ‘Sit, pour, we’ll talk while we eat.’

So I do. I sit, I pour, and I stare at the black phone in my hand. I don’t know how I ended up here, but I’m starting to think maybe this is all a dream.

‘So,weneedtogo out together more. What do people in this town do for dates other than the bar or the diner?’ Arlo asks as we sit opposite each other, eating the tomato and garlic-based pasta dish he made. I’m trying to concentrate on his words, but it tastes so damn good, and I realize how little I’ve eaten these past few weeks. ‘Bree?’

‘Sorry.’ I swallow. ‘Um, there’s a café, also people go to the lake. Mostly, it’s the bar or the diner.’

‘Then we’ll do more. Go to the bar. Sit in a booth, get close.’

Glancing up, I see him focused, eyes down on his plate as he talks, so matter-of-factly like he’s discussing what he needs to get from the grocery store.

Suddenly losing my appetite, I place my fork down and he notices, immediately looking at me.

‘You’re not eating.’

‘I’ve had enough.’

‘You had about three bites, Bree. You need to eat,’

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