Page 62 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

She swings the door wide, and I catch a glimpse of Bella, perched on a chair with one knee tucked up to her chest, nibbling on a donut.

At the sight of us, she puts the donut down and hops up to her feet. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve never been away from Bo for this long.”

She hurries across the room toward us and wraps her arms around the officer. “Tanya, you are the best, seriously. And tell Captain Danny I say ‘hi’. I’ll call you soon, and maybe we can all get together. I bumped into him at Fletcher’s the other day and he told me the funniest story about Dad. I’d love to hear more.”

The Chatty Officer, Tanya apparently, hugs Bella back. “Sure thing, girl. The next time we grab drinks at the Hogshead, I’ll give you a shout. Cap would love that. And I would, too.”

As they embrace, Bella’s eyes flit my way. She’s checking in with me.

She wants to see how I’m handling this.

I feel my molars grinding together. The muscles of my jaw feel sore, and so do my neck and back. I reach a hand up and rub my temple.

Soon the three of us traipse down the hallway. I put up with some more chit-chat about the “good old days” at the front desk, while Tanya pulls a rubber bin from a shelf and sets it on the counter. Bella collects a few items: car keys, cell phone, wallet.

When we make it outside onto the front steps, Bella turns to me. “Wow, what a crazy afternoon. What time is it, anyway?”

I don’t answer.

I can’t speak. My teeth are glued together and won’t seem to come apart.

She presses a button on her phone and checks the screen. “Shoot. It’s 8:45 already? Bo’s been home alone too long. He’ll be missing me. Well,us. He has a thing for you.”

She fits the phone into her back pocket, then flicks her gaze to me again. “Your jaw’s doing that bulgy thing.”

I manage to pry my teeth apart. “Bella, we need to talk.” The statement comes out sounding gruff.

Too gruff.

Then again, how much gruffness is appropriate when you pick up a woman from jail after she got arrested for breaking into your own grandmother’s home?

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry if this all seems… confusing. It must really look bad.”

“My mother thinks you were after my grandmother’s China. Or her jewelry collection.” Her eyes grow wide.

“Hey, whoa. I wasn’tstealingfrom her. Not really.”

“There’s no ‘not really’ when it comes to stealing. Either you were there to steal, or you weren’t. It’s a black-and-white, yes-or-no thing.”

I shouldn’t have to explain this. I really shouldn’t.

She tilts her chin up and examines the sky. “Okay, maybe you have a point there. Clouds are coming in fast. I think we’re going to get a storm. That means we really have to get home to Bo. He hates thunder. It scares him.” She jogs down the stairs.

I follow.

When we reach the SUV, she heads for the passenger side door—as though we’re going to both pile into the car, cruise home, and put this little detour in the day behind us.

No way.

I plant my feet on the sidewalk. Instead of pulling my keys from my pocket, I rake my fingers through my hair. “Bella, I’m serious. I don’t want to drive home until I get some things straight.” A fat raindrop lands on my nose. I ignore it. “Either you broke into my grandmother’s home to steal from her, or you didn’t. I’d like an actual, direct, no-games answer.” She pulls her bottom lip in with her teeth as she studies me. Raindrops splatter across the sidewalk and ping off the hood of my car.

The drops pelt the top of my head and my shoulders. When the wind picks up, I feel it ruffle my hair and a chill skitters over me. She hugs her bare arms.

“Can we not talk about this right now? I’m cold and I’m worried about Bo.”

I hate the thought of Bo alone and scared at the house, but I have to stand firm.

What if my mother’s right? What if Bella is actually a thief?

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