Page 56 of Dashing for Love

“Explain.”

“I…”

I’m saved by Willa coming back. She takes one look and gestures between us. “Um, what’s going on here? And don’t say?—”

“Nothing,” Reid and I answer simultaneously.

She crosses her arms. “Guys.”

Reid laughs. “Seriously, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t believe either of you. It better not be something about my birthday. You know I don’t like surprises.”

“I wouldneverlet a birthday surprise happen to you,” I promise. “You know that. Besides, your birthday is forever away.”

She twists her lips and studies me. “It’s about the girl, isn’t it? You better not have told him more than you told me, Matthew James Brodigan.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Reid steps into her line of sight, and I swear I nearly fall to my knees to kiss the man’s feet right then. I don’t know if he’s been subjected to Willa’s particular brand of questioning, but it involves an impressive layer cake of guilt, threats, jokes, and things that seemingly have nothing to do with anything, until suddenly,bam. She’s got you.

And I cannot be subjected to her tonight.

She harrumphs. “You’re lucky I like both of you.Andthat I’m not cooking. Because otherwise, I’d stop cooking and you two would be left to fend for yourselves.”

I smile. “You know, ever since Reid got here, I don’t think that threat is nearly as effective as it used to be.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go hang out in the living room while my sweet boyfriend cooks us all dinner.”

“With pleasure.” I hold my arm out for her to take, then look back at Reid as we leave the kitchen. “Thank you,”I mouth.

“You owe me,”he mouths back.

My stomach clenches at the thought. Thisisthe guy who was undercover with a drug cartel for two years, after all. I have a bad feeling he’s got some seriously creative ways to get stories out of me.

But I hold strong all night long. I stick to my guns when he glares at me when Willa’s back is turned, and I hold firm when she starts to doze on the couch and Reid walks with Killer and me to my car.

“You’re keeping something from me,” he pouts. “Why won’t you tell me?”

I sigh. “Would you believe me if I said it was for your own good?”

“Probably not.”

“Too bad, because guess what? It’s for your own good.”

“I don’t think I like you very much right now,” he huffs as I start the truck.

I roll the window down and hold my hands out for Killer. “Hand over the chihuahua.”

He cradles the tiny dog against his chest, then gives him a smooch on his head. “Cute little thing. I should keep him until you start telling me what’s going on.”

I consider him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

He hands Killer over. “I would.”

By the time I get home and feed the dogs, the cats, and Hedgie, I’m no clearer on what to do than I was at the beginning of the day. I need someone to talk to, and normally it’d be Willa.

Clearly, there’s the tiny matter of a conflict of interest happening there.

Goldie hasn’t sent me any messages today. Maybe she’s just as messed up about all this as me.

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