Page 122 of The Fake Out

FIFTY-THREE

“It’s a good thing I have a library card. Because I am totally checking you out.”

Still can’t believe he said that to me once upon a time. Now we’ve been married for seven years.

I can also confirm: he did not have a library card.

—NAOMI B.

I gave Chris some lame excuse about needing to use the restroom but, instead, followed my father’s head through the crowd. Hastily, I checked for Iris or Mama, hoping they hadn’t seen him.

Good ole Dad managed to avoid stopping to talk to anyone. He wandered away from the crowd and I followed. When he looked back once, I realized that was what he’d intended all along.

I caught up to him at the next corner. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned his stupid charming grin. “I came to see you, of course.”

“You saw me. Now leave.”

He wrapped a hand around my upper arm. “Now don’t be like that. I just want to talk a little.”

“I saw you last week. You didn’t want to talk much then.”

“Look”—his voice hardened—“you and me need to talk about your fiancé.”

The way he said fiancé made my stomach drop. I didn’t like the way he was watching me like I was the prey, and he was about to attack.

“Unless you’d like me to go talk to him myself? Because I could do that.” He turned on his heels and began to walk back the way we came.

“Get back here,” I whisper-yelled and marched toward the library, expecting him to follow.

I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. He followed me inside. I anticipated he’d start talking right away but, instead, he took his time walking around and glancing at the auction items and bid sheets.

“Huh. Made some good money.”

“Getting ideas for your next scam?”

He walked past me, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a great idea, actually.”

I drew in a deep breath through my nose. “What do you want?”

“Oh, right.” He unzipped the jacket he was wearing and pulled a stack of papers from an inside pocket. “I happened to come across these.”

He tossed them on the counter and moseyed over to look at more auction items like he had all the time in the world, like he knew he had the upper hand.

Swallowing the urge to scream, I stalked over and glanced at the packet. I recognized it immediately. It was the contract, the one I’d been asked to sign, the same one that outlined in specific details how my engagement to Chris was to be handled.

“How did you get this?” Only five people knew of this arrangement—Chris, me, Piper, Doug, and Chris’s attorney.

My father made a little sound in the back of his throat. “Didn’t even deny it. Very telling.”

“What do you want?”

“Me?” He pressed a hand to his chest, trying—and failing—to look innocent. “I don’t want anything. I just thought you should know this was out there.”

“When did you start doing things out of the kindness of your heart? For that matter, when did you get a heart?”

My hands opened and closed at my sides. The urge to hit him was overwhelming. But an even stronger urge to get him out of Two Harts and away from Chris and Iris and Mama was stronger.