Chapter 2 #3
Liam nods as he pulls out the chair at the desk and sits down to unwrap his own sandwich. “I had to make sure you were okay—and alive—after last night.”
Memories of last night’s escapades come flooding back, and I freeze mid-bite of my sandwich. “Please tell me I am imagining things and I did not climb up and dance on a bar in front of everyone.”
Liam rolls his lips, fighting a smile. “I am always going to be honest with you, Harlow; that’s who I am. And … I can’t lie to you.” He grimaces. “But if it helps, when I was with my first unit in the CIA, I went through my own hazing experience.”
“Did you dance on a bar, too?”
“No, but it involved too much vodka, a razor, an unfortunate haircut, an albino raccoon, and embarrassing events I will never repeat again. Although no dancing. Not that time, anyway.”
I slide my sunglasses to the top of my head so I can properly cover my face with my hands. “Oh my goodness. That’s so embarrassing! I don’t even remember why I was up there!” I wail into my hands.
“I saw Detective Cheryl Carson help you up there, and honestly, it looks like she pushed you to do it. I came over as soon as I realized what she was doing.”
I crack open my fingers to peek at him. “What do you mean?”
“She was retaliating,” he replies before taking a bite of his sandwich, and I lower my hand. I’m missing something here.
I scrunch my face up in confusion. “What?”
He nods. “The suspect they had dismissed and turned out to be a crucial link?”
Sluggishly, my brain makes the connection. Damn. “That was her interview.”
“That was her interview, and it was her call that he wasn’t worth pursuing.
You discovered the truth, and in turn…” He shrugs.
“Some people care more about how they look than what’s for the greatest good.
I personally think she should be grateful you came and helped correct the error she made, but I doubt she’ll want to hear what I think.
” He reaches for the tray of coffees, handing me one before taking a sip of the other one.
“But she’ll hear about it from her direct supervisor now that he’s aware of the situation.
If you think you’re having a rough morning, I suspect hers is about to be worse. ”
“Why would you do that? It was my own mistake. I misread her and the situation and thought we were on friendly terms—that I could trust her. I just wanted a night of being twenty-one, not all the other labels.”
He hums. “Like prodigy or genius?”
I nod without looking up from my hands.
“I get that, trust me, I really do.” I look up and raise an eyebrow, which makes him laugh. “Did you know my IQ score is one hundred forty-five?”
I about choke on my sandwich. “One forty-five? That’s exceptionally intelligent. In fact, historical classifications would consider you a genius.”
“Yeah, so I get wanting to just be … typical. But Harlow, you are not typical. You’re extraordinary. But maybe just not at picking friends, though, huh?” Liam gives me a soft smile, softening the blow.
But he’s right.
“No, I guess not. I have a really good friend, she’s actually why I came in on this case, but outside of her …
it’s hasn’t been easy to make friends when there are so many expectations of you before you even enter the room,” I admit as I pick at an invisible spot on the comforter. “I just wanted to fit in, you know?”
“I get that.”
Another memory from last night comes into focus, and I can feel my cheeks heat. “Oh, no, people thought … when we left together … that we were … oh, no!” People are going to think I’m willing to sleep with any man that pulls me off the bar! This is bad, very, very bad.
“No, I shut that down pretty quickly. You’re a lovely young woman, Whiz Kid, but I have to be honest. You remind me of my youngest sister, and I felt a little protective of you since I noticed the similarities. So, when I saw what Cheryl was egging you on to do, I had to step in.”
“I’ve never had a nickname before. How sad is that?”
“Your siblings or friends never gave you a nickname?”
“I’m an only child, and it’s … I just have never really had a lot of friends.” Could this morning get any more embarrassing?! “It’s been something I’ve not excelled at.” I pick at the edge of the sleeve of my favorite Harvard hoodie.
He hums. “Well, next time you count your friends, add one more.”
I look up at him, seeking a lie or ulterior motives, but all I see is kindness and grace in his eyes. “That’s nice. Thank you.”
Liam takes another bite and nods to acknowledge what I said. After swallowing, he adds, “Just don’t let it get out. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“The reputation isn’t helping drunk girls down from a bar?”
He grins, and I groan in embarrassment again.
“No, but I hope it’s doing the right thing, regardless of the situation.” He looks out the window for a moment, lost in his thoughts, so I finish my sandwich in silence.
And then pretend he doesn’t hear me when I promptly run to the ensuite bathroom, barely slamming the door shut before I throw up everything I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.