Page 4 of Canvas of Lies
“Weneedto, do we? At twilight, behind my business, while your creeper van is blocking the driveway? Who’s driving, anyway?”
He pushed away from the van in question, grinning as he strolled over to me. “That’s Gumby. He’s a friend. Would you believe me if I told you that was all coincidence?”
“No.”
At my sharp response, Nico laughed. “I’m not here to kidnap you, just to talk.”
Why that annoyed me so much, I didn’t know, but it was enough that I poked an angry finger into his chest. He barely flinched, while I was left wondering when the hell he’d developed muscles hard enough to jam my finger on.
“What do we have to talk about that couldn’t have been said in a phone call, Nico? My number can’t be that hard to find.”
“Kitten,” he murmured, the old nickname so soft and so sweet that my temper built in direct opposition to his intent. He wrapped his long fingers around mine, holding my hand to his ridiculous pecs. “Please. I promise it’ll only take a few minutes and if you still want me to leave after that, I’ll go.”
My temper often got the best of me—I was too impulsive, too quick to react. I knew that about myself and had worked hard to control those urges, but staring at my childhood crush, at the man he’d become, I lost it.
Nico’s eyes flared when I jammed our joined hands into his chest, using them to push him back an inch or two before his fingers tightened.
“You waltz back into my life after ten years, chauffeured in a creepy van, for a conversation that will only take a few minutes? What the hell are you up to, Nicolas Beaumont?”
He cocked his head and shifted toward me, using his grip on my hand to keep me close against his chest. So close I could barely catch my breath as his warm, soothing scent—tones of vanilla and bergamot—surrounded me.
“I need your help, Kat.”
Too many years.I spent too many years wishing things were different between us, waiting for him to come back to me, wondering where my friend and protector had gone.
With a sound of frustrated rage, I shoved against his shoulder, hoping to free myself from his grasp.
Unfortunately, the curb was just behind him when he stumbled backward. Not even Nico’s usual grace could stop him from tripping over it. As we went down, his body curved protectively around mine, but our momentum swung us both into the wooden pallets stacked beside the dumpster. The sound of splintering wood accompanied a flash of sharp pain as my shoulder and the side of my head collided with the wall of the building.
Dimly, I heard Nico calling my name. I blinked at him, wondering why my arm stung so badly, but when my eyes finally focused on his face, Nico’s visible relief distracted me from the pain.
“Jesus, Kat,” he muttered, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”
“I’m fine.” The words were harsh, but his gentle concern grated on me.
I forced my gaze away from him to see my purse had spilled and my phone shattered into pieces on the asphalt beside us, shards of glass glittering in the setting sunlight. Nico’s friend—the chauffeur or accomplice, whatever he was—opened his door and froze halfway out of the van, like he couldn’t decide if he should interfere.
“You broke my phone,” I grumbled.
“I’ll replace it. Are you hurt?” He looked closely into my eyes like he’d be able to spot an injury through force of will alone.
“No, but Iampissed about my damn phone. I need that for work.”
Nico reached over and lifted it, frowning down at the remnants of the screen and inner mechanics spilling out where the entire back had broken loose. “I think it’s a lost cause. I’ll get you a new one as soon as I can.”
I sighed. “Fine, but it better be an upgrade.”
“I think we should get your head looked at, Kitten, just to be safe.” He rose to his knees beside me and brushed a finger along my temple. “Gumby can drop us at the clinic.”
“Not a chance,” I shot back.
“Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?”
My scowl only intensified. “Guess not.”
He grinned and tossed the phone into the dumpster beside us before I could protest that I might be able to fix it—or at least get the SIM card out of it. I wasn’t as good with modern electronics as with vintage mechanics, but I could’ve given it atry. Feeling a little too woozy to articulate all that, I simply glared until he spoke again.
“Look, I’m here to ask you to come out to my cabin with me, okay? I’ll explain everything there and we’ll get you sorted out. If you want to go home after that, I’ll bring you back right away.”
