Page 6 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

"We shouldn't," I said. Saying the words made me want to accept the glass. I never did anything I wasn't supposed to. Well, rarely. I thought about the pills on the bottom shelf of the pantry. How was that any different?

"It's 5 o'clock somewhere," he said with a smirk.

That wasn't why I was protesting. Although, a drink before 9 a.m. wasn't exactly something most people did. I stared at him. He was a terrible lawn care employee. Really, I should have been making mental notes and been ready to report them back to the owners of this house. Instead, I grabbed the glass and took a big sip before I had time to change my mind.

It burned my throat. Ugh. It was disgusting. The last alcohol I had consumed in college was bad. It was some kind of cheap beer that only college students ever bought. This was worse if that was possible.

"Cheers," he laughed without clinking his glass against mine and took a sip from his.

The way I downed that, he probably thought I was an alcoholic. I had made assumptions about him. Maybe his assumptions about me were that I loved drinking before noon.

I took another sip. Not because of the pain in my ankle. But because, despite the burn of my throat, it calmed me. It made it feel like my heartbeat slowed. And I needed that around him. I needed my nerves to subside before I said something I regretted.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Another job, I mean." I immediately took another sip. I was unable to tell whether the alcohol made my social behavior better or worse. Maybe it made me worse. Be normal.

"No, not today."

Crap, what? How the hell was I supposed to go home if he wasn't leaving? I took a deep breath. There was no need to overreact. Just because this was his only mowing job today, didn't mean he could just stay here forever. He eventually had to go home.

"But you must have errands and other stuff to do. I don't want to keep you." I placed the empty glass down on the coffee table, trying not to cringe by the lack of coasters. If my lawn guy broke into my house, given that I would never willingly give him a key, and let someone put a glass down anywhere without a coaster, I would throw a total bitch fit. I'd sue. I'd call the police. I'd freaking lose it. I swallowed down the anger creeping up from my gut. Or maybe it was the alcohol threatening to come back up.

"Nope. My day is completely free."

Completely free. If this was happening in one of my dreams, I would have been thrilled. He'd already have me pressed against the wall. My clothes would have been shed immediately upon entering the house. I'd be relishing the taste of his tongue against mine. Stop.

"Do you run this early every day?" He refilled my glass but didn't add any to his. "Or is it just a Thursday thing?"

He was just making conversation. He clearly wasn't being accusatory. But for some reason, I took it that way. "I run every day of the

week." My voice sounded too defensive, but I couldn't seem to alter my tone. "It has nothing to do with you." Oh, shit. God, the alcohol was definitely making me worse than usual.

"Well, I didn't think it did until now. Are you stalking me?"

I grabbed my glass and took another sip. I wanted to disappear into the burn.

"What is that old saying..." He tapped his lip in the most distracting way. "Silence is consent?"

I spit my sip back into my glass. "First of all, that is most definitely not the saying. It’s silence is not consent. And second of all, I am not stalking you. I run every day of the week at the exact same time. Like I literally just told you. It has nothing to do with when you mow this lawn. Whenever that happens to be."

The smile on his lips grew with each word that tumbled out of mine. His silence was unnerving.

"I mean, of course I've noticed you. And the fact that you mow this lawn sometimes when I'm running. Is it always Thursday that you do that? Huh. I'm surprised I didn't notice the pattern. Usually, I'm pretty observant. I guess it was just that unimportant to me. I'm always completely focused on my pace while I'm running." I pulled on the sleeves of my shirt. It was suddenly stifling in the room and I wished I hadn’t been so appropriately dressed for the brisk morning weather.

"So the fact that you were staring at me had nothing to do with you falling into a pile of leaf bags on the curb?"

My jaw had dropped. His forwardness was something that I was definitely not used to.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I caught you staring,” he said.

I snapped my mouth closed. "I wave at everyone. I was being a friendly neighborhood person. I wave to the trash man too when I see him. It doesn't mean I'm in love with him." It was a lie. I hid inside most of the time and had never once waved to a trash man. Not in my entire life.

"And I'm similar to a trash man because..."

"Well, you mow lawns. You make piles of trash for him to take. It's comparable."

He laughed. "I do more than mow lawns."

"Fine." He was exasperating. "What do they call you people these days? Lawn maintenance crew or something? I'm sorry I offended you." But I didn't sound sorry and I hadn't meant to.

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