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My skin creeps as he gives that too-hearty laugh.
He isn’t a smarmy, stereotypical used-car-salesman guy. He’s something worse. Polished and affluent, reeking of designer aftershave and razor-honed charisma. A used-car salesman can only sell you a lemon. This guy can convince you to empty your 401(k), mortgage your house and max out your credit to invest in his scheme. After all, he drives a luxury car and has an uptown office address. What can possibly go wrong?
I realize I’m assigning a personality type based on a thirty-second acquaintance, but he reminds me too much of my stepfather, and I can still see my mother’s face when she first told me about him. “He works in an office,” she breathed, the way others might say, “He’s a cardiac surgeon.”
Mom never graduated high school. Pregnant and married at eighteen to a guy who put more heroin in his arms than food on the table. A cheerful, scattered boy, endlessly caught up in whatever dumbass criminal enterprise his friends talked him into. After the tragedy, she took me north and met Keith, a pharmaceutical rep with a closet of suits, a corporate office and a BMW. She thought her suffering had been rewarded. Instead, it’d only just begun.
I murmur something unintelligible to Celeste, lift the book to show I’m taking it and start for the back door.
“Am I going to get an introduction?” the man calls after me.
I turn with what I hope looks like a genuine smile. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” I put out a hand. “Daisy.”
His brows arch. “Like the flower?”
I laugh softly. “I wish. My parents named me after the Dukes of Hazzard character. I think Dad liked her short shorts. It was nice to meet you. I’ll just slip out—”
“Liam,” he says, walking to me with a hand extended. “We forgot that part. I’m Liam Garey.”
I smile and shake his hand, and before I can escape, he says, “So you’re local?”
Before I can answer, Celeste smoothly cuts in. “Daisy is hiking across the state. She took refuge in that old shed out back. I invited her to wait it out in the screened porch.”
Liam’s brows arch. “The lanai? Why not the spare bedroom?”
Celeste tenses. She tries to hide the reaction, but I see it, and I don’t blame her for it. There’s something in Liam’s tone that makes my hackles rise.
“I prefer the lanai,” I say quickly. “I appreciate the hospitality. You two have a good night, and we’ll discuss that leak tomorrow.”
“Leak?” he repeats.
Celeste waves it off. “You know this old house. Nothing but problems. Goodnight, Daisy, and if there’s anything you need, help yourself.”
My gaze slides to an old blanket on the sofa. She snatches it up with “Absolutely. Take this.”
“I’m sure we can do better than that, Celeste,” Liam says.
The use of we makes my hackles prickle again. That plural is presumptive and territorial. But Celeste only promises to bring me a pillow and other bedding later.
I thank her and escape as fast as I can.
Celeste
“Inviting strangers into your house now?” Liam murmurs as the back door shuts behind Daisy. “You are a woman of hidden depths.”
I resist the urge to say—again—that he agreed not to come over. Once is enough. He’s in a good mood, and it’s in my best interests not to spoil it. So I just roll my eyes and continue up the stairs. His laugh follows me, echoed by his footfalls.
At the top, he grabs me, still laughing as he pulls me in for a kiss.
“Let me guess,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “She’s your secret lover, clumsily passed off as... What was the story? A hitchhiker crossing the country?”
“A hiker crossing the state. And I’m tempted to say, ‘Yes, you’ve guessed correctly,’ just to see your reaction.”
He laughs and takes my hand, leading me to my room.
See, just an ordinary couple goofing around. Nothing to see here. Nothing at all.
I tell Liam about my leaking roof and Daisy’s rescue. He is as amused as I expected, his blue eyes dancing at my apparent predicament.
