Her brow furrows, and she looks at Jason in question. He sets down the box of muffins, smirks, and shrugs. “It was a surprise.”
They stare at each other for a moment, and a soft smile spreads across her lips. “We’ll go through the colors and pick something out,” she says, walking across the room, and picking up a large black book. “Do you have any ideas on what style you want?”
I shake my head, and she gives her son another look. It’s questioning, but also knowing, and I wish I knew whatever it was that was making her smile like she is.
Jason hovers over my shoulder for a few minutes as his mother flips through a book with loops of colored hair, pointing out different colors that she thinks will suit me, before he pulls away. “I’ve gotta get going.”
My brow furrows. “Wait, you’re leaving?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve got some work to do.”
My heart jumps to my throat. I’m not scared, but nervous? Yes, I’m nervous. He can’t mean to leave me alone with his mother. What if I say something wrong? Does she know that I know her ex-husband? Are they even divorced? I know that they’re separated, but I don’t know if I’m even supposed to know that. And what does she know about me?
I look at Jason, eyes pleading. “But—”
“You’ll be fine,” he says, cutting me off before I can form my protest. “Enjoy this. Get your hair done. Your nails, too, if you want. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick you up.”
I offer him a small nod and a smile, trying to get myself under control. It’s crazy, really. I barely know the guy, and he’s scared me more often than not since we met, but the thought of being alone with his mom …
He frowns, regarding me carefully. “You’ve got that about to bolt look again.”
I can feel my face heating with embarrassment. What’s wrong with me that spending some time alone with this man’s mom—a man that I only just met—makes me so nervous? “Just ignore me. Honestly, I’m good. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Give me your phone.”
I pull it out of my pocket, handing it to him, and watch as he presses a few buttons, and then hands it back.
“You need me to come back sooner, you call me, yeah?”
I shift my gaze to my phone, and then back to him. “Okay.”
He squeezes my shoulder lightly before turning to his mom. “Thanks again, Mom.”
“Sure thing, honey,” she says. “Now go on and get out of here.”
Giving me one more smile, he turns away and disappears out the door.
Chapter Ten
Jason
I swear that look is gonna kill me.
I wonder if Elena knows what she’s doing when she looks at me like that. When her eyes get wide and all that sweet innocence in her just spills out, and even though she’s nervous, she looks at me as though she’s certain that I’ll keep her safe no matter what.
It’s a goddamn form of torture; that look.
It makes me think I can do anything.
It makes me want things I shouldn’t be wanting.
It’s that look that has me kicking myself for leaving her with Mona, and anxious as hell to get back to her.
No. Wait. What the hell am I thinking? She’s just a job. It might be a personal job, but still, just a job.
I’ll get the shit she needs, get her away from my old man, and then she’ll be gone, back to New York.
But this morning … Holy shit, this morning. I could get used to waking up to her soft body curled around mine, and seeing that sweet, sleepy smile of hers. She was so damn beautiful just waking up. Never have I wanted to kiss a woman so badly. But it wasn’t just a kiss I wanted. I wanted more. I wanted all of her.
As I pull up at Heaven Here Coffee, I’m about ready to say the hell with the meeting and head back to the salon. For a woman like her, I don’t think the guys would blame me. I could just turn back …
No. Stop it. None of that matters. It can’t matter. She’s a job. Just a job.
But yeah, it kind of does matter, doesn’t it?
So what the fuck does that mean?
I don’t have a goddamn clue.
Sighing, I pull up beside Wes’s truck and cut the engine. Vance is parked on the other side, and the two of them are leaning against the hood, waiting.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I can’t deal with Elena right now.
I’ll figure it out later.
I don’t have much choice but to be here anyway. The client is one of my referrals. He’ll want me here to deliver what we found.
Yes. I just need to finish up this case, and then I can deal with Elena.
When I open my eyes again, I’m slightly more focused. Wes and Vance are watching me, their expressions, curiously blank. I run a hand down my face, and take another deep breath, before I climb out and head over to them.
“You made it,” Wes says. His eyes study me for a moment before his lips start to twitch as though he’s fighting off a grin. “Thought maybe Elena had you tied up cooking for her again.”
I glance at my watch. I’m on time. Uncommon for me, I’m always five minutes early, but still, I’m not late.
“It’s nine-fifteen,” I say and shrug. “What can I say? I like being punctual. You two should try it. It’ll save you time on this waiting around shit you’re doing.”
Shaking his head, Vance gives me a considering look, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You look like shit. What’s up?”
An involuntary chuckle escapes my throat before I can swallow it down. I have no doubt I look like shit. I sure as hell feel it.
I don’t bother denying it.
They wouldn’t believe me if I tried.
I shrug, smoothing my face out into an impassive mask. “Is he here yet?”
Vance narrows his eyes. He’s not buying the mask. Neither is Wes. How the hell am I supposed to look indifferent when I feel anything but?
“Yeah,” Wes says, pausing for a second to stare at me before continuing, “he went in a few minutes ago.”
“Then let’s get this over with,” I say, motioning toward the shop.
Neither of them moves. They say nothing. They just stare at me.
They wait.
They watch.
They want an explanation.
I have no idea what they’re looking for, but they want something. Knowing these two, I’ll be standing here all morning if I don’t give it to them.
Sighing, I rub my hands over my face. “Got woken up by a call from my old man.”
“He called you?” Wes asks, disbelief thick in his voice.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He called Elena’s cell.”
Vance cocks a brow. “And how exactly did that wake you up?”
Internally, I groan. How did her phone wake me up? Vance isn’t a stupid guy. He could piece it together. He was there last night, he saw her pressed into my side on the couch before he left. He’s probing, fishing for information that I don’t particularly want to give him.
A lie is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. I’ve never lied to Vance before, and I’m not going to start now. “We passed out on the couch last night watching a movie.”
Cursing under his breath, Vance pushes away from the car. “Hope you’re being careful, Jase,” he mutters.
I don’t need to ask what he means.
I know, because I can hear it in his voice.
He’s not just talking about being careful with Elena, but also myself.
Uncomfortable and not in the mood for this conversation, I shift irritably from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I’m being careful.”
Vance holds my stare for a long moment, and then gives me a small nod, and asks, “You leave her alone at your house?”
Right, so he doesn’t believe me.
He knows I’m not being careful with any of it.
Fair enough.
I don’t believe me either
.
I shake my head. “No. Dropped her off at the salon. She’s getting her hair colored and cut.”
Wes laughs. “You left that poor girl alone with Mona?”
Rolling my eyes, I turn away and start for the door. “Mona’s not that bad,” I say. Then, on second thought … I glance back at them. “Maybe we should hurry this along.”
Not surprising, neither of them disagree, because, yeah, my mother can be a bit … abrasive? Brash? Pushy?
Okay, another thing I didn’t think out.
Shit. What’s that girl doing to me?
Elena
Chocolate brown …
I like chocolate. It’s delicious, especially when you heat it up and drizzle it over vanilla ice cream, or dip strawberries into it, but never have I consider the color before.
Not once.
Until today, anyway.
That’s because Mona has declared chocolate brown to be the perfect color for my hair. She is not wrong. It is perfect. It’s dark, really dark, but it has a slight reddish hue to it that I love.
She’s in the back mixing the color right now, and while I’m alone, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I want to send Mr. Chapman a message. Let him know what’s happening here while I have the chance.
Except, I’m not really certain if I should.
I’m baffled, entirely unsure of what to make of what happened this morning.
Truth is, I’m unsure of what to make of everything that’s happened since I arrived here.
Okay …
I just have to think about this. I need to figure out how to deal with this.
Yeah, right.
My brain is so muddled right now that I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do here. Cut off Mr. Chapman? Hide our conversations from Jason?
I don’t know.
Neither option feels good. Neither feels right.
Both men have gone out of their way to help me.
Neither of them has been completely honest with me, but I’m not sure I can blame them for that. I haven’t been entirely open and honest either.
One thing I know for sure is that I’m willing to do just about anything to see Peck behind bars and get back home.
So what am I doing?
Ugh, I don’t know.
This whole situation is a mess.
Sighing, I tap the power button, waking up the phone, and glance at it. I thought I’d see missed calls, messages, something from Mr. Chapman, but there’s nothing.
He hasn’t even tried to contact me since I hung up on him and put the phone on silent.
I contemplate for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, and I glance over at the doorway, making sure Mona is still in the back, before I type out a message.
Me: So everything’s fine and sorry for hanging up on you, but I’ve got some bad news.
I hit send and close my eyes, hoping that he’ll respond quickly, and I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
My gaze darts from my phone to the doorway, watching and waiting for Mona to come back, and I’m about to put my phone away when the screen lights up with an incoming message.
Mr. Chapman: What?
Me: Jason has declared that I can’t keep in contact with you.
Mr. Chapman: Not surprising.
Really? I suck in a breath. His response pisses me off and I instantly want to strangle him. If it’s not surprising, then why didn’t he tell me?
Most likely for the same reasons he didn’t tell me that Jason is his son, or that Jason wouldn’t be too thrilled that I was sent by his father.
But don’t I have a right to know? It’s my life he’s screwing with here.
Me: About that ... I think you need to explain. I think you should have explained before you sent me here.
Mr. Chapman: He’s going to take your case, right?
Me: Yes, but ...
Mr. Chapman: Then there’s nothing to explain.
Okay, I kind of expected that response. The man has never been incredibly forthcoming with information. Actually, he’s always been fairly quiet when it came to personal details, but still …
Me: Uh, yes there is.
Mr. Chapman: What did he tell you?
Me: Nothing. He gets scary angry when your name comes up. I need to know why.
Mr. Chapman: All you need to know is that he’s a good man. He has his reasons for hating me and I deserve it.
Me: This is crazy. I don’t understand any of this. Why did you send me here?
Mr. Chapman: Because I can’t help you, baby girl, and he can. His team is good. Better than me.
Me: Better than you? What’s that supposed to mean?
Mr. Chapman: If it’ll make him breathe easier and focus on you, then do what he’s asked.
I look at the text and feel my jaw tighten. I read it a second time, slowly, shaking my head, completely confused.
I was so not expecting him to say that.
But I don’t have time to respond. Mona comes back, rolling a small cart in front of her holding a green plastic bowl full of hair color and brushes. She comes close; stopping right behind me, and with a soft touch, her hand brushes the back of my hair.
My phone lights up again, and I quickly shove it in my pocket as I compose myself, sitting up straighter and forcing a bright smile.
She sees it. Her eyes follow my phone as I put it away, but she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she smiles, a cautious, muted smile.
“So,” she says softly. “What should we talk about?”
I sit here, uncertain. I feel so out of place. I don’t know what’s left to talk about. We already covered the basic small talk while picking out the color, and I feel like a ball of frazzled nerves, trying to make sense out of Mr. Chapman’s response.
“Okay,” she says after a moment, dragging the point of the color brush along my part, baring my roots. “I’ll start. What’s a girl like you doing moving in with my son?”
I blink. I’m stunned at her bluntness.
Stunned and also slightly impressed.
“I ... Uh ...” I stammer. My stomach is so knotted that I can’t even form a thought. Jesus, it’s been in knots since I arrived in this darn town. This amount of nervous anxiety can’t be healthy. I swallow hard. “A girl like me?”
“Yeah, honey,” she says, quickly swiping the brush back and forth along my roots. “A girl like you.”
I meet her eyes in the mirror. She’s smiling, a genuine smile. It’s sweet, caring even. She looks completely at ease.
It’s confusing given her question.
Confusing, just like her son.
I laugh sharply, my nerves clawing at my throat. “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”
Using the pointed end of the brush, she flips the painted portion of my hair over, and starts applying a new layer of color. “You’re not his usual type.”
What’s his usual type?
No. I don’t even want to know.
Okay, maybe I kind of do want to know, but I’m not asking.
I won’t be here long enough for it to matter anyway.
“It’s not like that,” I say. “We’re not seeing each other. I’m just a case.”
Mona laughs barely loud enough for me to hear. “I saw the way you were looking at him, honey,” she says. “You have a very expressive set of eyes on you.”
I’m caught off guard by her response. Am I that transparent? I thought I was hiding it better than that. She stares at me in the mirror, the color brush swiping at my hair. I feel her gaze burning through me just as hot as the flush staining my cheeks, waiting.
I hesitate before repeating myself. “I’m just a case.”
She laughs again. “Jase doesn’t move his cases into his house. He doesn’t call me to give them a new hairstyle, either.”
Okay, she makes a valid point there, but I imagine I’m not like his usual cases.
I drop my gaze to my lap, muttering, “I’m thinking most
of his cases aren’t homeless.”
She lets out a deep sigh. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I saw the way he was looking at you, too.”
She stares at me for a moment, waiting for a response as I try to come up with something that will reassure her. I don’t get the feeling that she’s opposed to the idea of me staying at her son’s, but I also know she doesn’t love it.
But it’s more than that. There’s something else here, hidden in her questions.
I can feel it.
It strikes me then, that Jason must have told her something about me. Why else would she come in early to give me a new look? She seems too inquisitive to just say yes without hounding him for details. I wonder if this has something to do with the person that sent me here.
I meet her eyes in the mirror, hoping mine convey calmness that I don’t really feel. “I know what you’re really looking for,” I say evenly, hiding my nerves as best as I can. “It’s so much easier if you just come out and ask.”
“Oh, yeah?” she says, her lips curving up with an amused smile. “What exactly do you think I’m looking for?”
Taking a deep breath, I state, “You want to know why Mr. Chapman sent me here.”
Mona curves an eyebrow judgmentally, her eyes scanning me slowly in the mirror, picking me apart. After a moment, she laughs. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, not really,” I say. “It’s just a lucky guess.” I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts, before I continue. “I don’t know what Jason told you, but I didn’t know he was Mr. Chapman’s son. They have different last names and they don’t look alike at all. I didn’t know anything other than that he was sending me to a private investigator that could help me sort out my life so I could go home.”
A legitimate look of surprise crosses her face. I don’t think she was expecting me to be open. I wasn’t really expecting to be either. She looks as though she has hundreds of questions so I’m surprised when she says, “Jason changed his name when I divorced his dad. He didn’t want any ties to Richard.”
Two Truths and a Lie Page 8
