Page 35 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

If she told Lucien she wanted out, that she was done with their life of crime, he’d wish her well. He’d move on, as he’d promised he would five years ago. She was stronger now, but it would mean abandoning girls like Nisha, and the notion of quitting Lucien still pained her. Especially with so many uncertainties. If she pursued Jack and their fledgling feelings fizzled, or he realized she was more damaged than a salvage yard of crushed cars, or if he learned she’d been a criminal these past ten years, he’d probably run the other way or turn her in.

If their connection and attraction turned into love and he didn’t suspect anything about her past, could she, in good conscience, continue her lies? Never tell him what she was?

Her mind knotted tighter.

Until she untangled it all, she’d keep her options open. She’d tell Lucien about tomorrow’s running date and that the plan was moving ahead. She’d spend time with Jack and get to know him and maybe kiss his kissable lips. She’d find the elusive Van Gogh, just to be safe. Somehow, she’d figure out what to do.

12

Clementine pulled on her socks and running shoes, like it was a normal morning. She cleared her laptop’s history and tucked it in her briefcase, then she laid a fine thread over the bag—a precaution Lucien had drilled in. She may have been unfocused this job, but some habits were ingrained: leave a pen sticking up, a business card pressed between the leather. Anything to indicate if someone had touched her belongings.

Her incriminating folders were hidden and locked in her car. Nothing here would set off red flags, but she’d been using the Do Not Disturb sign anyway. She’d fetched her own towels and toilet paper. She would know if someone was snooping around.

Precautions in place, she drove to meet her running date and tried not to get too excited. She failed miserably.

She stretched her quads by Wherever Park’s bridge, adjusted her sports bra and pink tank top. Ten a.m. came and went. Clouds darkened the sky as she stretched some more. She replayed Jack’s last words to her, how he had wanted her company more than he should. It had been the sentiment of a man who’d keep their date.

Nerves took a bite out of her happy.

He could have panicked and decided he couldn’t jog with a festival judge. He could have found out who she really was. He could be talking to the cops now, and orange was so not her color. Or something important could have come up—unrelated to her because she was clearly narcissistic—and he’d had no choice but to bail. They hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers for him to call. No need when she conveniently appeared wherever he was, eager to hang out.

“Clementine!” Imelda waved at her, only one dog on a leash today. The ancient Labrador Retriever dragged his feet, his coat more gray than black. His thick middle suggested Imelda didn’t walk him enough. “You, honey, owe me big time,” Imelda said as they walked her way.

“How’s that?”

“Tami just about died when Jack dragged you from the bar Friday night. Almost busted my ear drum with her squawking. Please tell me my hearing loss was worth it.”

Considering Jack hadn’t shown for their morning run, she wasn’t sure. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Does that mean there was a kiss?”

Dammit. The stupid saying had just slipped off her tongue. Now Imelda scented fresh blood, her and Tami their own breed of canines: Gossip Hounds. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s sweet, is all.”

“And hot as Lou Anne Baker’s award-winning chili.”

Clementine snorted. “I think we established that Friday night.”

Imelda unclipped the dog’s leash and clucked at him. “Go on, Colonel Blue. Take a drink from the pond.” Colonel Blue did as asked, lumbering his lumpy body to the water. Ducks quacked and slapped the surface in their retreat. Imelda zipped up her windbreaker. “Rains are about to break.”

They sure were, judging by the dropping temperature. Clementine had expected to be running by now, working up a sweat. Instead she was shivering in her shorts and tank top, wondering where Jack was. She’d planned to work on him while jogging, finagle an invite to the estate. Keeping her options open meant continuing with her plan. She shivered harder.

Imelda called to Colonel Blue again, warning him not to terrorize the ducks. Clementine stared at the dog and narrowed her eyes, something about the pup’s name familiar. Blue. Blue. Colonel Blue. She knew that name. She’d heard it somewhere…

Her pulse sped up. “Is that Jack’s father’s dog?”

Imelda nodded. “I’ve walked him since Mr. David left the country. His wife’s busy with their younger daughter, and Blue’s arthritis means he needs slower solo walks. I take him three days a week.”

Jack had a sister? He’d never mentioned her before, nor any details of his family members. Oddly enough, Clementine had shared more about her family than he’d divulged about his. That fact wedged itself beside the knowledge that he’d kind of stood her up. At least she now had a way into his family estate, her breakthrough in the form of an arthritic black Lab.

She smiled at Imelda. “I can finish the walk with you, if you don’t mind company.”

“Am I allowed to ask you about Jack?”

“Nope.” She mimed locking her lips and tossing the key.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, Clementine. Must be why I like you.”

Warmth fizzed through her. First joking at the bar, now offering offhand compliments. If Clementine didn’t know better, Imelda was becoming an actual friend.