Chapter 15 #2
I waved him off. “There will be plenty of time for that. What can’t wait is you explaining what the heck happened at lunch.” I pinned him with my stare. “Who was that woman? Do you have any idea how badly she could’ve ruined everything?”
He dragged a hand down his face, sighing. “Yes, I do. That’s all I could think about when I realized she was there.”
“And ‘she’ is…?”
“I think her name is Tiffany.” Of course it was Tiffany. That was practically the most feminine name ever, unless Woman McWoman counted. No wonder she thought my nickname was masculine. “We went on two dates about a month ago. She wanted the relationship to continue. I didn’t. That’s about it.”
Ah, so my hunch had been correct. Still, for some reason, the thought of the two of them together was like a punch in the gut.
Probably just jealousy Colt could get not one, but two dates with a supermodel and I couldn’t manage to hold anyone’s attention except for the gas station clerks near my apartment.
And, really, they were so high I wasn’t sure they didn’t look at me and see a rainbow unicorn, anyway.
I chewed my lip, scanning the backyard with my hands on my hips. “Why did you end things with her? On a scale from one to ten, she’s, like, a twelve.”
His lips pursed into his contemplative face as he eyed me curiously. “We… didn’t click .”
“Mmm, apparently she thought you did.”
The corner of his mouth inched upward, and he huffed softly to himself as if he were amused.
He didn’t elaborate on whatever he thought was so funny, and I didn’t push him.
I would’ve given my left arm to know what was going on in that head of his, though.
Sure would’ve made living with him a bit easier.
Wait a second. Tiffany had wanted the relationship to continue. Which meant, somehow, Colt had convinced her he wasn’t a total bore whose idea of a good time was deep cleaning an oven. Which also meant his date etiquette likely wasn’t why he was single.
Grudgingly, I couldn’t argue with that. When we were in public and since I was his supposed wife, he was a complete gentleman. So—my dislike for him and his excessive tidiness, rule-abiding, stick-up-his-butt-ness aside—why was he single?
I locked eyes with him, fidgeting with my bottom lip in thought. “Why?”
His eyes tracked the motion. “Why what?”
Oh, right. He’d missed my inner monologue. His loss.
“Why aren’t you married in real life?”
He sighed, dragging his attention away to pan across the tops of the fence. No Colleen yet, but I wasn’t banking on it staying that way, even if I’d dragged us to the corner furthest from her yard.
“Of all people, I would think you would have no shortage of reasons.”
I shrugged. “I want to know why you think you’re still single.”
“Because I haven’t found the right one, okay?”
“Psh.” I jabbed a finger at him. “That is so cliche. What’s the real reason?”
“Why are you still single?” he countered.
I ticked the reasons off on my fingers. “One, because I just moved here and had no prospects back in Pennsylvania. Two, because I work insane hours—which you know. Three, I’m abrasive and insufferable, according to you.
Four, my best friend is my sister who has the sleep schedule of a senior citizen and I have no other friends to go out with and thus no chance of meeting guys.
Five, I haven’t found any guy who’s as good a listener as my fish?—”
I stopped abruptly, acutely aware I was giving him substantial ammo against me.
Our truce, tenuous as it was, was temporary.
After this assignment was over, we’d go back to hating each other, and the last thing I needed was to arm him with personal information to use against me.
Instead, I redirected it back to him, the one who was supposed to be answering in the first place. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“And it has been incredibly enlightening to do so.” He smirked, eyes twinkling in the early afternoon sun. “You have a fish?”
I looked away, unable to watch his smug features as he basked in my lame-ness. “Yes, okay? Now answer the question.”
“What’s your fish’s name?”
Oh no. There was no way I was going to admit that I had a goldfish named Gill-bert to him. If he wanted that information, he’d have to earn it. “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”
His lips twitched, eyes scanning me from head to toe like he could see into my soul. Talk about unnerving. “Fine. I’m still single because, like you, I work insane hours sometimes.”
“Okay. And…?”
“And that’s it.” He shrugged, clenching his jaw and looking left—one of his tells. There was no way that was all. But evidently, it was all he was willing to tell me right now. “Now what’s your fish’s name?”
I closed my eyes with a resigned sigh. Served me right for trying to talk to Colt about anything that wasn’t directly related to the assignment.
I didn’t know if he tried to derail any chances to get to know him, but he certainly succeeded at it.
Maybe that was why he was single. Hard to have a relationship with someone who wouldn’t let you get close.
Heck, it was hard enough having a fake relationship with the guy.
“His name is Gill-bert.”
When I opened my eyes, I was met with a grinning Colt. And it was stunning. “You have a fish with a pun in its name?”
I huffed, hating the fact that I felt embarrassed about it in the first place.
Or maybe it was the fact that he’d been listening enough to catch the fact that I had a fish, which meant he’d also caught all the reasons I was the lamest, singlest person in Detroit.
“Yes. Now let’s get back to our bug hunt. ”
I breezed away from him and got halfway back to the house before his voice stopped me. “Lex, wait.”
I entertained the idea of walking away faster just to spite him but ultimately decided against it. More for the fact that there was no dignified way to speed walk with a seven-months-along belly than anything else, but I’d let him think whatever he wanted.
He placed himself in front of me to block my escape indoors, all smugness wiped away.
In its place, his jaw flexed, eyes looking anywhere but at me.
A faint pink blush colored the skin under his freckles.
“How you handled the situation at lunch… it was very admirable. Tiffany wasn’t even a blip on my radar, so I hadn’t planned for her arrival. And so, when she showed up, I… froze.”
Yeah, no kidding.
But he was complimenting me for possibly the first time ever, so I didn’t interrupt.
“I used to hate how you flew by the seat of your pants during interrogations, investigations. Everything, really. And yet you were unfazeable, and it worked, and I’d spend hours planning, abiding by the rules, following procedure, only for you to crack the suspect like it was nothing.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond. And, again, I always had a comeback.
Except when it came to Colt. This didn’t just reveal more of why he hated me.
It also revealed more about himself. Whether he’d intended for me to read into it or not, I couldn’t tell you, but either way, my picture of Colt just became a little more three-dimensional.
He was jealous of me. He was jealous of me . The newbie. The messy one. His polar opposite. And all this time I was the one thinking he was perfect. Not in every way, mind you, but in everything I struggled with.
“But today, it was your ability to wing it that saved our cover. Not my planning.” He took a deep breath, eyes still scanning the expanse of the backyard. “So, I guess what I want to say is thank you.”
He thanked me. Colt thanked me . And he’d admitted he’d needed me, even if he hadn’t said it in so many words. It was so entirely unexpected based off my perception of him and his high-and-mightiness that I couldn’t find the words to respond for an embarrassing amount of time.
“You’re welcome,” I finally squeaked out. Then, in an effort to lighten the tension that had my pulse fluttering, I added, “So, have I convinced you of the magic of winging it, yet?”
He snorted. “Hardly. I’ll admit I see the value in it, but I’m not about to abandon my plans.”
“Of course you’re not.” That would be too much to ask for. “I take it you’re already working out an itinerary for my spa day with Vivienne, too, huh?”
“Well, yes, obviously.” His brow furrowed, like planning his fake spouse’s spa day he wasn’t invited to was an everyday occurrence for him, and I should already know that.
“Massages don’t typically allow for clothing, so keeping the fact your belly is fake a secret will be a challenge.
And that’s assuming you don’t sit in any hot tubs, saunas, or any other location that would risk you being found out. ”
My hackles raised. Here he was, finally, finally offering me a genuine compliment and sincere thanks, only to follow it up with his incessant planning.
As if I wasn’t smart enough to figure out a solution on my own.
Did he raise valid points? Yes. But was Vivienne going to be a Peeping Tom at me?
Probably not. If I was careful, I wouldn’t need the additional straps that helped secure the stomach in place.
Sure, the masseuse would know something was up, but I could try bribing her to keep her quiet or ask her to massage everything but my back.
Surely there were requests like that, right? I’d think of something. I always did.
“I’ll be fine,” I replied curtly. “But your concern is noted.”
His expression darkened, face flushing with annoyance. “Really? That’s it? My ‘concern is noted’? This is a little too important to leave anything to chance, Lex.”
“You don’t think I already know that?” I hissed.
The literal weight the belly put on my shoulders was nothing to the figurative one.
“I’m the one with the chance to get us close to them.
Not you, in case you haven’t noticed. If it were up to you, you’d still be planning the best approach from the first Lamaze class, and we never would’ve gotten more than a polite ‘hello’ from them. ”
“And I suppose you expect me to just throw caution to the wind like you do, huh?” Though his words carried enough venom to singe my eyebrows, he managed to keep his voice from carrying where any nosy neighbors—and goodness knows we certainly had some of those—had any hope of overhearing.
Classic Colt. Always in control. Always thinking.
“It wouldn’t kill you to be spontaneous every once in a while!” I struggled to keep my voice as quiet. “You’re so buttoned up I’m amazed you can even breathe.”
“And you’re so unpredictable you’d put the weather to shame.”
“At least I act ! I don’t just think and think until every possible scenario has been thought of because—oh wait, it’s impossible to think of everything, and yet you still try! If I hadn’t acted, we could be face down in Lake Michigan by now.”
“It’s Lake Erie over here,” he corrected.
“Ugh!” I’m not proud to admit it, but I kind of screamed. Like that low-pitched manic buffalo scream from a week ago, but more “sputtering lawnmower with a chipmunk sitting on top and squealing.” He knew very well what I meant and was just being a butthead.
I stormed past him, deliberately leaving the sliding door ajar as I went inside just to tick him off.
And that’s the same reason I angled every kitchen chair so none of them were pushed in or matched each other.
And why I tipped each of our hanging pictures so they were askew.
And that’s probably why, when I went to bed later, all of my clothes were reorganized by color in the closet and my desk—which was normally an organized chaos of jewelry, books, and pencils—was swept clear.
So much for our truce.