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I shrug noncommittally. “Of course. If it helps, your online presence is remarkably pristine compared to most peoples’. Probably the only ones better are mine and Louisa’s.”
“Who’s Louisa?” she asks. I notice a hint of pink rising in her cheeks.
“Jealous?” I flash a quick, predatory grin. “It’s okay if you are. I don’t mind if my girlfriends, fake or otherwise, are a little fiery. In fact, maybe I prefer it.” I’m hoping to trigger her into it. Not for my sake, but for her own. She’s going to need everything she’s got to get through this, even with me at her side. She doesn’t need to be Kayla-like, able to eviscerate someone in three words or less, but she needs to be her best Janey.
“Humph.” She pouts, which for some reason is kinda adorable.
I let her stew in the jealousy for a quick second before explaining her worry away. “Louisa is my assistant, and our relationship is strictly professional. She’s also in her fifties, prefers to spend time with her husband and their two Boston Terriers, and is a research machine.”
“Good, because I care if my boyfriends, fake or otherwise, are seeing other women.” She says it with all the backbone of a strong woman, but I know the cost it’s come with. I heard it in her voice last night. That she can fake it a bit bodes well for us.
“Fair is fair. I researched you and should be willing to share myself with you to the same degree. I’m an investigator, own my own bespoke business with top-secret, private clientele. There’s no business page listing or 1-800 number to call. I already told you that I have four brothers and a twin sister. Cameron, Carter, Chance, Kayla, and Kyle. What else do you want to know?” I finish.
“Uhm, everything,” she answers with her chin in her hands and eager eyes.
“I don’t think there’s much more to tell. I’m boring and my life is monotonous. Sure, the cases are different, but the job’s the same. This stakeout is the most interesting thing I’ve done in ages, both because of the location outside the city and my cabinmate.” I give her a sly grin that she ducks away from, but I see the soft smile she’s trying to hide. Confident I’ve made my case about what she’s bringing to the table, I offer, “Fire away. Hit me with whatever questions you want. I’m an open book.”
I’ve never uttered those words in my life, but I find that for Janey, they’re true.
I want her to know me. And I want to know her too.
But only so we can pull off this fake boyfriend thing, of course.
CHAPTER7
JANEY
With permission toask anything I want, my brain short-circuits and I ask everything at once, the words tumbling over one another in a rush for freedom.
“How did you become an investigator? What’s been your wildest case and why? Do you and your twin have that twin-telepathy thing? If so, is it weird because like, how do you turn it off when you’re doing private stuff? Or oh, God, what if you couldn’t? That’d be awful. If you could be any animal, what would it be? That one’s not as strange as it sounds. It’s a proven psychology trick that speaks to what you value most. Have you ever had a nickname, and if so, how’d you get it? Do you have pet peeves or things that make you angry? I promise if you’ll tell me what, I won’t do it. That way, you won’t get mad when you’re helping me. Have you ever been in love?” My eyes go wide and my mouth drops open into an O of horror. “Oh, my God, do you have a girlfriend? Or a wife? Or a husband? Basically, is there anyone who’s going to feel some sort of way about this little adventure you’ve agreed to go on with me?”
It’s an entire unwieldy, immense blob of verbiage, but I can’t seem to stop it from pouring forth until the idea of Cole having someone in his life hits me. He told me Louisa is his assistant. He hasn’t told me anything about anyone past, but recently, I’ve come to find out that’s not exactly enough information to rule out the existence of a significant other. On the other hand, I don’t actually know whether Henry told his co-worker about me... and us. Knowing him, he probably didn’t.
Cole is blank-faced staring at me.
I think I’ve scared him already. It wouldn’t be the first time my exuberance put someone off. I’ve been on several first dates that ended before the entrees arrived, but my perspective is that those guys weren’t meant for me if a little nervous chatterboxing was too hard to handle. That’s dating—seeing if your weirdness fits with another person’s weirdness in a complementary way.
But Cole chuckles deep in his chest, and my nervousness untwists itself in my chest like a shoestring knot that someone just tugged the string on. The sound is foreign coming from him, and it makes his whole face soften in a way I couldn’t have imagined. It makes him look relaxed and not at all scared. Or scary.
Ticking off answers on his fingers, he replies, “Long story. This one. No, thank God, and fuck off for the awful imagery of Kayla that way. Human, top of the hierarchy. Cole Slaw, because my grandma made it for a picnic once and I ate it until I got sick. Name didn’t stick very long because I can’t even think about it anymore without gagging.” He shakes his head like he’s ridding himself of the thought. “Uhm... I cataloged every question you asked, but I’m forgetting some in the middle. I remember the important one, though.” He looks directly into my eyes, silently demanding that I listen, understand, and believe this truth. “No girlfriend, wife, or anything like that. Cheating pisses me off, and it’s not something I could ever do, not for a case. And not for a friend.”
I smile at the rough raspiness that’s entered his voice, showing the depth of his feelings about cheating. It makes sense that’d be his position when he sees case after case of how devastating it can be. I like that. It’s definitely something we have in common.
And he called me a friend!
I like having friends, especially hot guy types who are willing to help me and don’t freak out when I rapid-fire questions.
Which I actually don’t remember. Embarrassed, I say, “Could you remind me what questions you answered? I kinda forgot what I asked.”
He doesn’t bat an eye, just obliges easily. “You asked how I became an investigator and my wildest case. Mr. and Mrs. Webster are by far my wildest, most interesting, and favorite case. Not because of them but because of you.”
I swear I swoon, literally spinning in a circle on my stool, at his sweet words. I’m not used to kindness, but this is more than that. Cole’s repairing damage in my soul that I buried long ago and like to pretend doesn’t exist.
He doesn’t ignore me when I ramble. He doesn’t tell me to shut up. He doesn’t think I’m stupid or boring or forgettable.
He listens. He pays attention. He cares.
It sounds like so little, but the truth is, in my experience, it’s a lot. And it’s a rare person who behaves the way Cole does. Too many people have gone the opposite way with me.
