Page 29 of Wrong Number

“I know, it’s overkill,” he chuckled. “But I have to run some really long panels across town, and this was the only truck available that would hold them flat.”

As we stopped at a red light, he reached over to take my hand. “Tana, I’m really sorry that I haven’t called. I’m going to try to be much more careful to call and text you at least once a day, all right?”

“Okay, if you want to.”

“I really do. I hope that you weren’t worried.”

Squeezing his hand, I said, “I’m still learning about all of this relationship stuff, remember?”

“Which is why I should be a better example,” he said.

We reached my building far too soon, and he parked directly in front, running around to help me climb down. Keeping his arms around me, I was gently pressed against the metal panel.

“You’re so sexy,” he said softly, nuzzling my neck just under my ear. “I’m sorry I only had a few minutes today, but I absolutely had to see you.”

“It’s really sweet of you to make the time. And it’s good to see you too.”

He kissed me gently, sending those little prickles of heat through the backs of my shoulders and up my thighs just from the pressure of his lips.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Try not to work too hard,” I said.

“I make no promises,” he said, kissing my forehead, then watching me walk into the lobby before he jumped back into the truck.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I went upstairs. We really were still connected, and everything was absolutely fine. My relationship nervousness was only paranoia, and I’d have to learn to relax.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

* Tyler *

As Wednesday wore on, I found my mind continually coming back to the password protected financials folder on the server .

I knew that it shouldn’t bother me as much as it did, but Uncle John had always gone on about how open he was with me. He claimed to want to show me every single detail about the business.

He’d also been much jumpier than usual about Wright Construction competing for a few regular jobs. It just didn’t sit right, and I had nobody to talk to about it.

Then I realized…maybe I did. I told myself that if I found anything questionable in my uncle’s paper folders, I could ask Tana about it.

I’d been through the folders before, so I didn’t really expect to find anything new. Quotes, purchase orders, receipts, and all manner of paperwork filled this month’s box.

But then I noticed a smudged note at the bottom of an extensive lumberyard receipt.

My uncle always used a pencil, for some reason, and it looked like he had mostly erased this note. But because it was on that slightly shiny receipt roll paper, I could clearly make out, ‘P-word’ followed by what looked like a phone number.

Figuring out that it was a password was a fairly easy guess. But the last number of the phone number was seriously smudged. It could have been anything with a round curve at the bottom – three, five, six, or eight.

It wasn’t much to go on, but it gave me an excuse to talk to Tana. Taking a photo of that section, I sent it to her.

Me: If you were to guess the last number, what do you think it would be?

She responded almost immediately.

Tana: It’s an eight.

Me: LOL How can you be so sure?

Tana: It’s part of an old country song about a man who got mixed up with a bad crowd, and had to leave town so that his girl didn’t get into trouble. Her number changed, but he hoped she didn’t, or something like that.

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