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“Well, that’s…” He scowled. “Maybe Marissa mentioned it yesterday.”
Wedding planning was a nonstop, high-stakes course in reading people. It didn’t mean that I never got fooled, of course—witness the time I caught Scott and Onyx in flagrante on my antique four-poster bed back in Nashville—but it definitely gave me an edge when it came to reading people.
What I was reading now was that Percy Champion was lying.
And, more fool me, I was hurt by it.
“She didn’t,” I said firmly. “So maybe you googled my client. Ran a background check on her. Whatever you call it in badass-security-person speak.”
Champ’s face remained impassive… which I was pretty sure meant I was correct.
“What I want to know is why.” I leaned toward the center console, arms folded. “And you’d better start talking, or you’re gonna get real-dumped by your fake fiancé, Sugar Pop, and you’ll be walking back to town. I’ve put up with a lot of your crap—” Twenty-seven mornings’ worth, by last count. “—but I will not let you fuck with Taffet Events. Not my clients and not my reputation.”
Close to him as I was, I couldn’t miss the way Champ’s blue eyes flashed with… God, I didn’t even know. Respect? Understanding? Commiseration? Maybe all of the above. I also couldn’t ignore the commingled scents of musky vanilla and sawdust that wafted off him. I thought randomly that the folks at Thicket Scent Co. were totally missing the boat on serving up Eau de Champion as a cologne. I wanted to roll around in it.
“I’m not fucking with your business. I wouldn’t do that,” he said seriously. Then he licked his lips and glanced away. “I just… I, um…” He ran a hand over his blond hair. “This is hard for me to admit, Quinn, but I think you were right. I mean, maybe I was feeling protective of you. With the whole Troy thing.”
“You mean Trey.”
“Exactly,” he agreed solemnly. “I hate thinking of him making you uncomfortable. And I… I do like you. I mean, obviously I enjoy your company. And I really did feel bad about pulling the fiancé thing yesterday. So I’m here today to support you. As a… you know… a person in your life.”
I whistled low. “Are you saying we’re in a relationship, Champion?”
A muscle twitched in his cheek, and he blinked aggressively. “Well… I… no. It’s not… It’s more of a friendly kind of… you know.”
I tilted my head. “A friendly… what?”
“A friendly… relationship,” he whispered, hanging his head slightly.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “This is more serious than I thought if you’re willing to use the R-word to get what you want. So what’s the real deal? Is Marissa a murderer? Or is it her dad? Slaying people with his low, low prices? Or is it—” I gasped. “Fuck, it’s her mom, isn’t it? I knew it. She asked me my zodiac sign and my ‘birth path number’ to see if I’d bring ‘auspicious energy’ to planning the wedding. Red fucking flag.”
He exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes. “No one is a murderer, Quinn. Jesus.”
“Oh, fuck. That’s exactly what the murderer would say! Is it you? Are you trying to murder them?” I teased.
He did the arm-foldy thing, mirroring my posture… though I had to admit, his was way more effective. “The only person I’m likely to murder is you,” he muttered.
“Yep. Right back atcha,” I said, dropping my teasing tone. “Especially since I’m now officially running late for this extremely important meeting, and if Carlotta turns me away because I arrive at an inauspicious time, fair warning, I will make you regret it. In fact, if you don’t start explaining now, I’ll call Ernette at the police station and tell her a strange man is carjacking me. ‘He kept growling at me, Ernette! And giving me a straight-up murder glare! I was afraid for my very life. And then he said he was likely to murder me!’” I clasped my hands under my chin and blinked my eyelashes with frantic innocence.
Champ snorted. “Please. I know Ernette better than you do.”
“Then you’ll know she’s a sucker for drama. They’ll let you out in a couple hours, but by then, I’ll have told the Drakes that you’ve been… running a trace on them.”
“That’s not what it’s cal— Ughhhh.” I could almost hear the man’s molars grinding. It was kind of a thrill. He glared at me and pursed his lips. “You’re not cute, you know. You’re fucking annoying.”
“I’m both. I’m multifaceted that way.”
One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile before he ruthlessly suppressed it. “Fuck. Okay, fine. I am investigating a… thing… for a… a client.” He glanced up at me. “I’m not divulging a name.”
I nodded slowly.
“I got a tip yesterday afternoon that Tommy Drakes might have information on the whereabouts of the thing… or might even have it in his possession. It’s a huge coincidence, because I swear I didn’t know about this when I met him yesterday morning. The problem is…” He hesitated. “I can’t just ask Tommy about the thing, because I’m not sure how he might have… acquired it. Or whether he even knows the true value of what he acquired. And he has no reason to cooperate with me.”
