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I roll my thumbs around each other. “I know.”
“And now?”
“That’s not who she is at all. Of course, the kid did tell me his dad’s in prison, so…” I spread my hands.
“So what? That’s hardly enough information to convictherof low character. Sure, people are foolish and create lots of messes for themselves. You and I see it everyday, but you can’t go around judging folks, especially for things you have no way of knowing.”
“I already said I was wrong.”
He smirks. “I’m gonna put those words in a bottle and save them for a rainy day.”
I feel around for the pen. Oh, I could indent his cocky forehead with the tip of—
Okay, yeah, I might have a problem sometimes admitting when I’m not right. Around this place, it can be a matter of self-preservation.
He’s watchful and waiting, but I’ve said too much as it is. My thumb finds the clicker on the end of my pen. “She freaked out on me, too. I’d be stupid to tie into that kind of crazy.”
“Crazy?” He squints. “Tie into?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not really. And freaked out how?”
Click, click, click. Did I use the last antacid from my bottom drawer last week? I roll it open.
“John?”
It slams shut. “Freaked out, as in got scared. She was storming off after the whole battery thing, calling me a bully, and I tried to get her to stay and talk, but when I touched her—”
“Touched?”
“I grabbed her arm.”
Tripp’s entire forehead levitates.
“Grabbedis the wrong word. I’m not that big of a jerk, and certainly not with Hollie.” Ninety-nine percent of women wouldn’t have had a problem with the way I touched her.
Nodding, he pulls his chin.
“I thought she was going to hyperventilate.” Using words likeforce. “Then she took off, and that was that.”
“Have you talked since?”
“Only long enough to plead with her to stay one more night to give the cops time to do their jobs.” She stayed on her side of the kitchen island, I on mine.
Tripp’s dark gaze drifts to the window over my shoulder. “So she’sthatkind of woman.”
And just like that, we’re on the same page. I believe Walker had a mom who was no stranger to abusive men, and we’ve seen too much of that kind of thing in our line of work. I sigh. “Maybe the ex who’s in prison?”
Gaze distant, Tripp executes another slow nod. Stuff’s going on in that brain of his, and I’m hoping it’s not something that spells trouble for his young marriage, not with a baby about to make an entrance. I mean, I’m not a big fan of the whole matrimony thing, but Walker’s a solid guy, and it’s the life he chose. I don’t actively root for trouble.
My chair whines again. “Bottom line—don’t get any ideas about Hollie and me. She’s a nice lady I’d like to help, that’s all. I’m not about to hitch my wagon to another woman with issues.”
His shirt cuffs ride up as he folds his arms over his chest, giving a peek at the full tattoo sleeves that ride to the tops of both arms and beyond, reminders that he’s not always this marshmallowy dude he’s putting on today.
“Everybody has issues, John.”
“Exactly my point. Add hers to mine and we’d sink the danged boat.”
