Page 36 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

So here I am, at the start of today’s loop hike—the Cove Forest Trail—in my yellow gym-bro T-shirt, sunglasses and baseball hat omitted to flaunt my new look, double-checking the treasure-hunt package I prepared. And get this. I’ve been smiling since I got here.

Lennon calls as I finish. The sight of his name kicks my good mood up a notch. Keeping in mind E’s wonderful intel, I answer the phone and say, “How are things with you and Maggie?”

“How . . . what?” he says, whisper-hissing the last word.

“Maggie Edelstein. Rumor has it there’s history there.”

“Fucking E,” he mumbles. Then louder, “I barely know Maggie. All you have to worry about is not losing kids and not screwing up my business. And don’t you dare say anything to Maggie about me.” He hangs up swiftly.

Gotta hand it to E. I’ve never shut Lennon up that quickly.

I relax even more, until I see today’s first arrival. The sight of Olivia is a pinprick to my newfound enthusiasm, my positivity slowly leaking out. She bounds out of her car with such enthusiasm I recoil.

Her mother waves at me. “I have to thank you.”

“Yeah?” I say tentatively.

“Haven’t seen Olivia this excited for anything in ages. Whatever you’re doing with these kids, keep it up. Oh, and”—she gives me a flirty once-over—“like the new look.”

She leaves with a wave.

I revert to the anxious version of myself, my natural state around this kid. The only reason Olivia’s excited is because she has a question prepared for me. Her once-a-day interrogation, as per our deal.

She clasps her hands and blinks up at me. “Don’t let my mom’s flattery go to your head. She flirts with everyone.”

Charming as ever. “Thanks for the boost to my confidence. Now hit me with your question.” Best to get this over with, save myself from stressing over when and where she’ll attack.

She rocks on her heels, doing a fantastic job of getting under my skin without uttering a word. “Did you know that statistically men lie twice as much as women?”

“Is that your question?”

“Did it sound specific to witness protection to you?”

Honest to God. She does not give me an inch. “What’s your point, kid?”

She chews her gum, her pink top and turquoise shorts as bright as the mischief in her eyes. “The makeover’s a good start. Just don’t be a statistic.”

I have no plans to lie to Sadie. No matter what happens between us, she’ll get only the truth from me. Olivia, however, will get a pack of lies if she asks a WITSEC question at an inopportune time. I also came prepared for her today. Aside from creating a kickass treasure hunt, I did some statistical research of my own. “Did you know women talk three times as much as men? It’s tiresome that you’re so predictable.”

Take that, mini Freud.

“Did you know the average woman can only keep a secret for forty-seven hours and fifteen minutes?” She taps her chin. “I’m not even a woman yet. Must be half that time for me.”

My eyelid twitches. Palpitations overtake my chest. “We have a deal, Olivia.”

“That we do,” she says sweetly as another couple of cars pull up.

Carter and Jun spill out of one carpool vehicle, looking half-asleep and groggy. Jasmine and Zoey pop out of the second in another matching outfit—jean skirts with leggings and a different version of Monday’s crop tops. They look more prepared for a mall expedition than a hiking trail. At least they aren’t sleepwalking like the boys or staring at me unnervingly like the exorcist otherwise known as Olivia. The last car to arrive is the worst. Sadie and Max don’t pull up in her red Honda. They get out of the muddy truck driven by none other than GQ Joseph.

Max hikes up his backpack and smiles at the girls. He walks over and chats with them animatedly. Probably about Camila Cabello, but he seems more upbeat than last time. As does Sadie. She’s wearing another pair of mouthwatering short shorts, the yellow hiking leader shirt that flaunts her softer lines, and a smile aimed at her chauffeur. “Thanks again for the lift.”

Joseph leans his elbow on his window rim and flashes his dimple. “Back here at noon, right?”

She fixes her ponytail and nods. “You’re the best.”

Actually, he’s the worst. No man should be that attractive. And there goes my face again, doing its pinching thing. Olivia snickers. Sadie’s attention grazes over me, then she does an exaggerated double take—her eyes flaring, mouth dropping open, color rising to her cheeks.

Point for the makeover.