Chapter 14
After two hours and over two dozen trips up and down a flight of twenty-one steps, any vanity Tabitha may have had was completely wiped away.
She was a mess. Hot and sweaty, red-faced and disheveled, her once smooth ponytail now a haphazard knot of her wildly waving hair. She had two broken nails, a blister forming on her right big toe, and a streak of soil on her tank top from carrying her precious dieffenbachia.
So much for her plans to look like a tasty snack the next time she saw Miles.
Climbing the stairs—trip number twenty-seven—wearing a cross-body purse and carrying her vintage glass table lamp in one hand and a large, black garbage bag containing her bedding in the other, she snorted.
So much for any of her plans.
She’d planned on her and Reed quickly and efficiently moving her possessions into her new apartment in under an hour.
She hadn’t planned on coming face-to-face with Verity Jennings again, and she certainly hadn’t planned on Verity holding her apartment key hostage and then, in another unexpected twist, apologizing for it. Or that Verity would offer to help after seeing Tabitha struggle to hold up her end of the couch—literally—as she and Reed carried it down the sidewalk.
She’d planned on going to Miles’s house tonight so she could apologize for what happened the morning she’d snuck out of his bed, and for stretching the truth the last time she was here. Then she’d planned on letting him know she was staying in Mount Laurel for the foreseeable future.
She hadn’t planned on him showing up in all his hot cop glory and spending the past hour and a half moving her furniture.
Since that moment on the stairs when she’d tried to talk to him, he hadn’t so much as glanced her way. As far as she knew, anyway. Hard to tell what was going on behind those dark sunglasses of his.
No more plans for her. From now on, she was winging it.
It couldn’t possibly go any worse than this.
Stepping into her new apartment, she set her lamp on the small kitchen island and turned as Reed and Miles came in carrying her banged up, four-drawer dresser.
She moved aside so they could get past, then followed them through the open living room to her bedroom on the right.
“Where do you want it?” Reed asked.
Tabitha glanced around the room. It was small and narrow with her queen-sized bed taking up the entire length of the longer wall underneath two large windows.
“Next to the closet door, please.”
The small walk-in closet separated her bedroom from the tiny bathroom that also had access from the kitchen.
Miles and Reed didn’t move. Thinking she was blocking them, she tossed the bag with her bedding onto the already full mattress and pressed back against it. But they only exchanged one of those guy looks—the kind males gave each other when women were being so very silly thinking their funny little thoughts with their tiny female brains.
“It won’t fit,” Reed said.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, even though technically he was right. It wouldn’t fit flat against the wall. “Put it kitty corner.”
Even then she wouldn’t be able to pull the drawers open more than a few inches, but she’d make do.
“We could move the bed,” Reed suggested. “We could put it there” —he gestured to the far corner of the bedroom against the interior wall— “And the dresser there.” He pointed to the shorter wall near the bedroom doorway.
It was a good idea. One that would utilize the space better and allow her to have room to not only fully pull open the dresser’s drawers but also leave her a spot big enough to put a bedside table.
“It’s fine this way. I prefer to sleep next to the window.”
Let them make of that what they would.
Just because she was trying not to lie anymore didn’t mean she was going to hand over her truth, her whole truth, and nothing but the truth all willy nilly.
Reed gave her a slight nod—acknowledging her right to put her bed wherever she wanted—then bent his knees, ready to lift the dresser again.
But Miles didn’t move. He was too busy watching her from behind his dark sunglasses, hiding behind them even while they were inside, studying her to his heart’s content without giving away any of his own thoughts.
Lifting her chin, linking her hands at her waist, she gave him a small, serene smile.
Even if she did let him in a little bit, like she’d done three weeks ago when she’d admitted she didn’t like to be restrained, when she’d submitted to his every command, he’d only see what he wanted.
Just like he’d done ten years ago.
His mouth tightened ever so slightly, the only sign of emotion he’d shown her other than that brief anger on the stairs.
In a blink, that, too, was gone.
She wasn’t the only one who could put on a show.
Reed and Miles were setting the dresser in the corner when Verity came in carrying a large cardboard box marked bedroom on the side in permanent marker. Ian, now wearing a Baby Yoda T-shirt and carrying his book, followed. Reed’s dog brought up the rear of their little train.
And immediately trotted over to Tabitha.
In the act of taking off her purse, she froze. It was like the dog knew she didn’t like him and was determined to change her mind.
And thought the best way to do that was to shove his nose into her crotch every chance he got.
“Titus,” Reed said. His dog swung his head around to look at him. “Go lay down.”
Titus padded away from Tabitha, passing Verity as she came farther into the room, then flopped onto the ground blocking the doorway.
After a quick glance around the room, Verity walked over and set the box on top of the dresser, the only empty space in the room, careful, Tabitha noticed, to keep as much distance between her and Reed as possible.
Poor girl.
She had it bad.
And was none too happy about it.
Tabitha glanced at Miles.
She could relate.
“That’s the last of it,” Verity said, reaching up to take her hairband out of her hair.
“Does that mean you’re finally done?” Ian asked, getting up from his spot on the floor next to the dog, his finger marking his page in his book.
Verity put her hairband around her wrist. “All done.”
Then she finger-combed her hair, scooped it up again and twisted the scrunchie around it, which had several things happening in quick concession.
Her shirt lifted, showing another inch of her stomach.
Miles growled, low and dark, like an animal ready to rip out someone’s throat.
And Tabitha elbowed that someone—Reed—hard in the ribs, twice, to get him to stop staring at her like he was a man on death row and she was his last meal.
Or his last hope of salvation.
Ian crossed the room and tugged on Miles’s hand. “Are you going to arrest him now?”
“Arrest who?”
“Him,” Ian whispered, nodding at Reed.
Miles took off his sunglasses and hung them on the collar of his uniform shirt. “Not at the moment. But the day’s still young.”
“Ian,” Verity scolded as she moved to Reed’s side. “Of course, he’s not going to arrest Reed. Why would you even ask that?”
“Because he yelled at you. That day we got ice cream.”
“What’s he talking about?” Miles asked Verity.
“It was nothing.”
“Verity…”
She rolled her eyes. Mimicked his tone and the way he drew her name out. “Miles…”
He turned to Reed. “Don’t yell at my sister. Ever.”
Verity pushed her way between them. “First of all, I don’t need you fighting my battles. I was taught how to stand up for myself which includes not letting anyone treat me with disrespect. Secondly, don’t be such a hypocrite. You yell at me all the time.”
Miles looked affronted. And hurt. “I don’t yell at you all the time.”
“Fine. Half the time. And the other half you’re lecturing me, which is way worse.”
“I don’t lecture,” he grumbled. “I teach.”
“Yeah? Well how about you become the student for once and learn that I’m more than capable of taking care of myself?”
They had a stare down, much like the one Reed and Miles had had in the stairway, although even more tense and uncomfortable for the people not involved.
It really made Tabitha rethink all those years she’d spent as a sad, lonely child wishing she had a brother.
Grabbing her purse, she dug out the envelope of cash she’d brought with her from Philadelphia when she closed her bank account. Counted out the money she needed.
“Well,” she said, brightly, loudly, and so suddenly, Verity, Ian and the dog all startled. Both human males just slid her identical bland looks. “Thank you so much for your help,” she continued, handing Reed his money. She turned to Verity, holding out a hundred-dollar bill. “You, too.”
While Reed had taken his cash wordlessly and without expression, Verity looked horrified.
And tucked her hands behind her back.
“Thank you, but I can’t accept that.”
“I insist,” she said, but short of shoving the money into Verity’s pocket, she couldn’t force her to take it. “Please.”
“Let it go,” Reed told her. “The princess owed you.”
“What does that mean?” Miles asked.
“Nothing,” Verity said, a quick denial that may as well have been a flashing neon sign that she was guilty of something, especially when accompanied by the furious, hurt look she gave Reed.
Like he’d betrayed her.
“Verity,” Miles said. “What did you do?”
“If I did do something—and I’m not saying I did—that I shouldn’t have done—and, again, I’d like to make the point that this is not a confession but a completely hypothetical situation—then you can trust that I also rectified that mistake in a swift, responsible, adult-like manner. Just like I was taught.”
He did the whole cop waiting for a suspect to break under the pressure of his intense stare and silence routine on her, but Verity didn’t so much as blink.
Then he turned to her. “Tabitha?”
She raised her eyebrows. Oh, no. He wasn’t about to use her to get information about what had happened before he’d arrived. Not after he’d spent the past hour and a half not speaking to her.
Asshole. Thinking he could mess with the sisterhood.
“Nothing happened,” Tabitha said, not the least bit guilty over this white lie.
Lying to protect others didn’t count.
“And since nothing did happen,” she continued to Verity, “certainly nothing that you need to make up for, I really wish you’d let me pay you.”
“If you really want to repay me, I wouldn’t say no to pizza for lunch. But only if you agree to eat it with us.”
It was a compromise. One that allowed Tabitha to hold onto a scrap of her pride along with most of the money she’d offered Verity.
And, for once, she wouldn’t have to eat a meal alone.
“Deal.”
Verity grinned. “Great. Half cheese, half mushroom okay with you?”
“I’m not picky.”
She hadn’t had that luxury.
“We’ll get it ordered to be delivered in an hour.” Verity glanced down at Ian. “Say goodbye, bud.”
“Bye,” he said to Tabitha, even though they’d be seeing each other in an hour. He turned to Reed. “Sorry I thought Uncle Miles was going to arrest you.”
“You’re not the first,” Reed said. “You won’t be the last.”
Miles snorted. “Got that right.”
Reed ignored him. “You did a good job taking care of Titus.”
“Thank you,” Ian said solemnly. He hugged Miles around the waist. “Bye, Uncle Miles.”
Bending down to return the hug, Miles kissed the top of his nephew’s head. “Bye, buddy.” He looked over at Verity. “Not going to ask me if I want to stay for lunch?”
“Spend another hour watching you pretend not to be watching Tabitha? No thanks. My day’s been uncomfortable enough so far. Not to mention the sexual tension between you two is thick enough to suffocate innocent bystanders and I’d rather that not be Ian or me. It’s also not something I want to subject myself to for one minute longer than necessary.” She gave a dramatic shudder. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“You could have just said no.”
“Eh, I could have. But where’s the fun in that?”
She took Ian’s hand and walked away.
Without saying anything to Reed.
When she paused at the door to bend over and whisper something to Reed’s dog while giving him a pat on the head, it was Miles who elbowed Reed in the side.
Much, much harder than Tabitha had done.
“Stop staring at my sister’s ass,” Miles ground out.
Rubbing his side, Reed smirked, but it was at odds with the flush climbing his throat. “No worries, Assistant Chief. Your princess is safe from me.” Turning his back on Miles, he held out the extra hundred Tabitha had given him. “Here.”
She did the Verity trick of tucking her hands behind her back. “That’s a tip.”
“We agreed on two hundred.”
“That was before I knew the working conditions would be less than ideal for you. Or that there’d be so many Jennings involved.”
“I’ve had it worse.”
She could see that. And not because she was a trained and licensed social worker. It was clear to her that wherever he came from, whatever he’d been through, had made him cautious. Wary. Mistrustful.
Because she’d had it worse, too.
Like knew like. Always.
“That’s all the more reason for you to accept a well-deserved bonus when it’s offered to you.”
Mouth thinning, he glanced at Miles who was, of course, watching them oh so very carefully. Reed stepped closer, ducking his head so he could speak close to her ear. “Maybe. But it’s also how I know that you can’t afford to give me a bonus.”
Her gaze flew first to Miles—found him, no surprise, scowling at them, not liking being excluded from the conversation—then to Reed. Her pride pushed her to lie and she might have, but Reed wasn’t looking at her with pity.
He was looking at her with compassion. Understanding.
And enough stubbornness for her to realize this wasn’t just about her pride.
It was about his, too.
And she refused to take that away from him.
Even if it dinged hers.
Taking the bill, she curled it in her hand, crumpling it along with the one she’d tried to give Verity. “I’d invite you to join us for pizza, but I’m not sure that would go over well with the local authorities.”
Another smirk, he had dozens of them, all varying degrees of amusement, scorn, and cockiness. “Probably not. But you don’t have to worry about the assistant police chief. He’s too by-the-book to trump up any charges.”
“Tabitha doesn’t share your high opinion of me,” Miles said, mild and bone-dry.
“I was teasing,” she assured him quickly, blushing so hard her scalp prickled. “You have no idea what I think of you.”
“Whose fault is that?” he asked softly.
Her throat tightened. It was hers. Absolutely. For not sharing the deepest, most secret parts of herself. For keeping so much hidden.
For still being so scared to share those pieces of herself with him now, even though she desperately wanted to.
But it was also his for demanding so much from her. For whatever small amount she did give never being enough.
“I’m taking off,” Reed said, drawing her attention away from Miles. “I can ask the kid to keep Titus while I meet you at Bissett’s. Drive you back here.”
“How did you know I need to return the truck to Bissett’s?”
He and Miles exchanged yet another amused glance. So glad she and her cluelessness could bring them together. “It’s the only place in town that handles moving rentals.”
“Oh. Thank you, but I’ll just walk back.”
“It’s over on Canfield Street.” When she just looked at him blankly, he added, “On the other side of town.”
“Well, as I’m learning—and from all those smug looks you two keep sharing—Mount Laurel is so very small and insular. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“It’s over two miles from here.”
A two mile walk back here? In the summer heat, after those twenty-seven trips up and down her stairs?
No amount of pride was worth that.
“In that case, I’d love a ride. Thank you.” She turned to Miles. “And thank you for your help. I’m sure this wasn’t how you planned on spending your Sunday morning.”
An hour and a half ago she’d wanted to talk to him, but ever since he’d brushed her off, all her doubts and fears and her many, many insecurities had been bubbling to the surface.
That was the problem with burying them instead of dealing with them.
They always found a way to come up for air.
But she was tired. And hungry. Hot and sweaty, and a far cry from the cool, calm, convincing persona she’d wanted to put on when she saw him again.
She needed time to regroup, refocus, and refresh. Then, after her life and apartment were a little more organized, in a few days or weeks, after she was settled in her new job, she’d go to him for all that previously-planned apologizing, explaining, and truth telling.
She thought he’d fight her on this. He’d obviously come here for a confrontation. Or at least, an interrogation.
She wasn’t up for either.
And maybe she was testing him. Just a bit. Seeing if he pushed her for more, like he used to do. Or walk away like he’d done at the bar that night.
Trying to figure out which version of Miles she was dealing with. Old or new.
Only to have that answer a moment later when he turned and left without a word.