Page 90 of Deceptive Games
Caden got a call from Josie, so he stood and wandered off to talk to her, giving me a second to text Skeeter.
Rory: Do you have anyone that can track down a person?
I didn’t have to wait long for a reply.
Skeeter: Gotta be specific, baby girl. Do you want a hitman, or an investigator?
Rory: Investigator. I need help finding my mom.
He didn’t reply for a minute or two, and I was starting to think he wasn’t going to when he responded.
Skeeter: Yeah. Give me what you have on her and I’ll sort it. You know the price tag for what you’re asking?
Rory: Caden offered to pay for it.
Skeeter: Good. I’ll send him the bill then.
At least he wasn’t grilling me about last night.
Rory: Thanks, Skeet.
He didn’t reply, and I hadn’t expected him to.
“Mom’s coming home on Tuesday. Today’s meeting got pushed back until tomorrow afternoon,” Caden said as he appeared beside me.
“She had a meeting on a Sunday?”
“Rich people who own businesses don’t get days off. It’s why they’re rich,” he pointed out. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“I was thinking of heading out. I appreciate you spending the day with me, but do you mind if I have some alone time? I just want to go for a drive,” I answered, waiting for him to argue.
“Where to?”
“Just the Heights. Birthdays are hard without Mom, and I like going for drives sometimes just to sit and smoke.”
“Okay,” he said easily, making me glance at him.
“Okay? You’re not going to fight me? Stalk me? Call the guys to save me from my invisible demons?” I joked, not particularly believing him.
He chuckled, shrugging slightly. “If you’re not back by ten, I’m calling to harass you. If you don’t answer, I’m coming to find you. Deal?”
“Deal,” I smiled, getting to my feet and giving him a quick kiss. “Thanks.”
“See? I can be understanding,” he grinned, sliding an arm around my lower back to tug me closer. “Come home so I can give you belated birthday sex.”
I was too sore for that, and I winced. “Uh, my period is doing weird stuff, so rain check?”
He blinked at me, some of the color draining from his face. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s irregular. Don’t look so panicked, it’s always like this.”
“You can’t just say shit like that without proper explanation,” he grumbled, looking slightly embarrassed. “Do you, uh, need anything?”
“I have it handled,” I said dryly, patting his chest. “But thanks.”
He bent down to kiss me, keeping it slow as he held me, and I relaxed against him.
Kissing him was torture because I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with him every damn time.
