“Uh, just popping down to the store to get some—” My mind races. I was supposed to vanish before he realized I was gone. The beauty of disappearing into the night—or even the middle of the afternoon—is that explanations aren’t needed. Butnow I’m caught, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “—cheese.”
“Is that so?” Harper raises an eyebrow. “Cheese?”
I nod, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I love… cheese.”
“Wow, learn something new every day.”
As a detective, Harper’s probably heard every lie and excuse in the world, but still, ‘cheese’ might be a new one. The bastard looks almost amused, a humor in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Damn it, I’m not sure if I hate him or myself more for finding it attractive.
He sums up the situation. “You just saw the last man you ever expected in your hotel and now you’re in urgent need of cheese?”
“Yes,” I say, committing to my ridiculous lie. “It’s comforting. Comfort cheese. That’s totally a thing.”
“Are you sure that you weren’t about to run?” he asks.
I shift uncomfortably, still not letting him in. Too late to change my story now. My only options are to come clean… or dig myself deeper.
“Yep, cheese. I’m in desperate need of… cheese. Fancy cheese.”
“Fancy cheese?”
“Yep.” I start listing off names. “Brie, Camembert, Roquefort, those are some delicious cheeses that I love to indulge in. What, you don’t think I have a taste for the finer things in life?”
Harper smirks. “Well, now that you mention it—”
“That was a rhetorical question!”
“No such thing for a detective,” he points out. “So, how did you say you made a living?”
“I didn’t...”
So this is what an interrogation feels like. The silence extends as Harper stares, unwavering, waiting for an answer. A silent battle of wills ensues. I meet his gaze, refusing to blink.
“Say it then,” he prompts.
“Well, I do lots of things, anything really,” I say. “Sometimes I play music and busk.”
“And that income lets you purchase specialty cheeses?” Harper asks, one eyebrow raised skeptically.
Okay. As much as I’d like to go to my deathbed still insisting that I was just running a quick errand, it’s hopeless. I’m not fooling anyone and I feel more ridiculous every time someone says cheese. Enough is enough.
I sigh. “Totally busted, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” Harper confirms.
I step aside with another heavy sigh, letting him into the room. Harper enters, his eyes immediately scanning the disaster zone that is my hotel room. The bed’s a mess and everything that couldn’t fit into one bag is strewn across the room. My backpack sits by the door, stuffed with essentials. My trusty guitar leans against the wall, still in her case, but positioned for a quick grab-and-go.
Harper looks it all over, expression guarded as he leans against the dresser. The longer he looks at all the evidence that I was about bolt, the more I wonder if I should have kept up the whole cheese ruse.
“Were you even gonna say goodbye?” he asks quietly.
The question hits harder than I expect. I hadn’t thought about goodbyes. I never do. When you’re always running, you don’t get attached, you don’t leave notes, you just... go. But the hurt in his eyes makes my chest tighten.
“Rowan’s your boss. It’s complicated. Isn’t it better if you don’t know?”
“Complicated doesn’t bother me.”
“He’s after me,” I explain. “I don’t know why, and at this point, I don’t even care. All I know is that I can’t let him catch me.”
