Lie to Me

by Verdenius, Angela

  “You never want to discuss feelings.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Vic yanked him out the door. “Go and insert your finger into a faulty power point and clear your head.”

  Laughing, the women resumed their seats. Not long after they parted company, each going back to their work.

  As much as Dee loved her friends, she was glad to have some peace and quiet to think. It looked like the gossip mill was in overdrive thanks to her ridiculous impulse to have Jason walk her home, not to mention her rash words to Ryder. But really, having him laugh at her lack of experience, having him think he knew her so well, it rankled.

  Flicking the feather duster along the shelves holding books, Dee frowned. Unfortunately, he did know her very well, though she’d left him flabbergasted by what she’d said that morning. She’d kind of surprised herself, but when she’d seen the uncertainty in his eyes satisfaction had welled within her.

  For once she had the upper hand. For once he was the one uncertain. It had felt good, very good. Seeing the flash of anger in his eyes, the way he’d come over all He-Man, demanding answers and wanting to know who she was dating, well, that had warmed the cold embers of her burned little heart.

  Not to mention that she could pretend his over protectiveness was jealousy.

  Yeah, right.

  She could only wish.

  Her satisfaction was short-lived. Every customer who came into her shop hinted at her, wanting to know if she was dating anyone - translation, Jason Dawson - some of the older people warning her to be careful who she dated nowadays - “one just never knows, dear” - while a couple of younger one girls stood on the other side of the magazine rack whispering at how Jason Dawson was a dangerous man but a hunky one, and that some liked it rough obviously. This was said with gazes sliding across to Dee.

  She tried to ignore them all, fielding off the questions with a shrug and looking everyone right in the eyes, silently challenging them to say anything further.

  None of them were silly enough to try. Jason Dawson might have a reputation for being a hard case, but Dee had the reputation of being a woman who spoke her mind, and a few people had either witnessed it themselves or been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end. Not to mention that most had known her since she was a baby and so knew her well enough to not push the boundaries of friendship.

  Only a small circle of friends pushed the boundaries - bloody broke through them, to be truthful - and still remained her friends, but that circle was small and she certainly wasn’t welcoming anymore into it. A few close friends and everyone else she was friendly with, that was how Dee worked.

  As the business hours drew to a close, she breathed a sigh of relief, closing and locking the door. She had just started to turn away when a knock sounded on the door and she saw Kirk standing on the footpath.

  “Hey,” she greeted, opening the door to him.

  “Hey,” he returned. “Got a few minutes?”

  “Sure, come on in.” She stood to one side, closing the door behind him to stop anyone out and about after hours thinking they could start some late night shopping. “Molly’s okay? The bump?”

  “Molly and the baby are fine.” Expression calm, he looked down at her. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Me?” Surprised, she raised one eyebrow.

  “I know Ryder and you rub each other up the wrong way sometimes.” He paused. “Most times. But last night was a stunt that could have put you in danger.”

  Oh boy, just what she needed after all the hints thrown at her during the day. “Look, I appreciate the concern but there’s no need to worry. I knew what I was doing.”

  He looked at her.

  “It had nothing to do with Ryder.”

  His look remained steady.

  “Okay, it had a little to do with him.”

  Steady gaze. Silence.

  Damn it, the cop was the only man in town who could make her squirm. She respected him, he was a good man, but right then he was another person intent on telling her what to do. “Kirk, I’m not interested in doing this with you or anyone else tonight.” She moved past him. “Or any night.”

  “Tough day?” He watched her move around the counter.

  “I’ve had about a million do-gooders in here intent on either telling me what to do or wanting to know what happened. Hints about boyfriends, dating and bad boys.” Irritated, she printed out the balance slip from the EFTPOS machine. “Funnily enough, no one goes to Ryder and hints to him, do they?”

  “They tried to tell Ryder years ago,” Kirk returned mildly. “They’ve long since given up.”

  “So now it’s all right for him to carry on like a dog in heat, but I make one mention of a date and suddenly everyone is onto me with thinly-veiled advice. I don’t need it.”

  “Dee, I’m not here to warn you off dating.”

  She looked up at him. “Because you know I’m not.”

  “Even if you were, it would make no difference.” Kirk’s brown eyes had softened.

  “So what are you here to warn me off?”

  Reaching out, he placed his hand on hers where she was screwing the living crap out of the balance slip. “You’re one of my friends, Dee. I’m here as your friend, not a gossiper.”

  Shit, he always knew how to take the wind out of her sails, but nevertheless she kept her chin up. “Is that so?”

  Not in the least fazed by her tone, he squeezed her hand gently but firmly. “You’re not an idiot. You know the Dawson brothers are trouble. Making a rash decision to get Jason to walk you home could have turned ugly.”

  “Come on,” she scoffed. “Ryder wouldn’t have done anything about it.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Ryder is the least of my concerns in this episode. You’re my concern because if Jason had of tried something, you would have been alone.”

  “I can look after myself.”

  “You’re a tough woman, I’ll give you that, but any woman alone with a man with a disreputable background stands the chance of being hurt.”

  She tugged her hand out from under his. “He didn’t do anything.”

  “Fine. It could have been any man you chose on a spur of the decision moment, but any unsavoury man could have hurt you. I’m just saying be careful of your decisions, think about your own safety.”

  Knowing he was right, but also tired of it all, Dee nodded tightly. “Okay. I’ve learned my lesson. No more going off with bad men to upset Ryder.”

  Kirk looked at her steadily, his calm silence only making her more jittery.

  Damn it, now she felt guilty. She could be a bitch when she wanted to be, but she always had a sense of fair play, too.

  With a sigh, she tossed the balance slip on the counter. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It was a dumb move and one I won't repeat.” Her gaze snapped to his. “But you tell Ryder or anyone else that I said that and I’ll rip you a new one.”

  “I know.” His smile was slow and easy, his handsome face warm.

  No wonder the single women of the town - not to mention a few married ones - had been so despondent when he’d gotten engaged to Molly. The fact that they were expecting a baby had a few sighing wistfully. Oh, there might have been a few hopefuls still around, but then Kirk and Molly had married in the little church and that had cemented the fact that he was now off-limits.

  Plus Molly would kill any woman dumb enough to try for her husband, and Kirk, well, he was so in love with his wife that he never seemed to notice the flirting still aimed his way.

  Molly was a lucky woman and Kirk was a lucky man.

  Looking at him, the quiet sincerity on his face, the warm friendliness of his eyes, Dee smiled slightly. “Lesson learned, Officer. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He stepped back. “But Dee, if you ever need to talk, you know you can come to me, right?”

  That was so unexpected, she blinked. “Um…sure.”

  “Good.” With a nod, he left.

  Locking the door behind him, Dee watched as h
e got into his ute and drove off. Okay, things just seemed a little weirder than normal. Not to mention that quiet, controlled Kirk with his damned intuition was offering her a chance to spill her guts, tell him what he suspected.

  “Not going to happen, mate,” she muttered. Moving back behind the counter, she rung up the total balance on the cash registrar. “There’s not one person I’d tell. Ever.”

  And sadly that included Ryder, the only one who really mattered.

  ~*~

  Damn meddling bitch. Teeth gritted, the watcher’s hands clenched. Thought she could use people as she wanted, play a game she had no intention of finishing. So high and mighty, running around with that attitude and abrasive honesty.

  She really needed to be taught a lesson.

  ~*~

  Drunk as a skunk, Ryder was going to get a real blasting from his parents. He staggered around, unable to find his date who, apparently, had disappeared into a crowd of his classmates.

  Man, this party was wild. Teenagers giggling, drinking beer without their parents knowing. He’d come here with Charlotte Harrison, a hot little redhead in a tank top and short shorts that had his tongue hanging out of his head and his donger almost out of his pants, it had grown so long and hard. Amazing he didn’t bust the zipper.

  They’d drunk alcohol, kissed, groped, did more groping, did some more groping, kissed and then his sight had started to blur. Never one to give up, Ryder hung in, fully intent on availing himself of the lithe Charlotte and her hot little body.

  Trying to find her, he’d ended up at the back of the house. Wavering, legs not quite working well, an alcoholic haze making everything seem out-of-focus and incredibly funny.

  It shouldn’t have been funny that his date had vanished, but there you had it, everything was funny. And wasn’t that funny?

  Staggering around, he heard the dim sound of a cop siren. Oh man, the cops had come to shut down the party. Teenagers went everywhere, tins and bottles dropping on the ground as they fled. The only one left to face the wrath of both police and his parents when they got back from their own party would be poor old Farris. Poor bastard. No way could Ryder let him face it alone, unfortunately his legs wouldn’t work properly and he cannoned into the house on his way back around the front.

  “Cripes, Ryder, get a grip.” Soft arms wrapped around his waist. “Here, lean on me.”

  Aw, sweet little Dee Miller. He looked down at the top of her head as she valiantly struggled across the back lawn with him. “I love you, Dee.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Impatiently, she staggered across the grass. “For crying out loud, walk, you drongo.”

  That was even funnier. He started laughing and almost dropped to the ground as his knees wobbled.

  Most girls would have left him there, but not Dee. She braced those sturdy legs of hers, shoved out that big, soft bosom in renewed determination, tightened her hold on his waist and her other hand where it held his wrist as she yanked his arm across her shoulders.

  “Sh-shouldn’t l-leave Farris,” he slurred.

  “He shouldn’t have held the party in the first place. Come on.”

  Before he knew it, she’d tugged him through the back gate and out into the scrub that ran along the back of Farris’s house.

  Several times he almost brought them both crashing to the ground, but each time she braced, re-steadied, and continued, bringing him with her.

  “Sweet lil’ Dee,” he slurred, and smacked her backside heartily.

  Well, he thought it was hearty, but it was a wobbly half swipe that glanced off one bountiful buttock.

  “Keep it up and I’ll break your hand,” she gritted out. “Come on, dickhead. If we’re caught we’ll never be let out again until we graduate high school.”

  He thought that was pretty funny until his laughter was muffled by her hand slapping across his mouth.

  Damn, it wasn’t a soft slap either, but while his eyes were still rolling a little in his head she was looking around before dragging him across the road and into the bushes.

  He was never really sure how they got home, but Dee managed to get them to his house without anyone seeing. He’d left his bedroom window open and it was an easy matter for her to pry off the fly screen and then, with a lot of muffled swearing and puffing, she managed to get him through the window and into his bedroom.

  Dee dropped him onto the bed, pulled off his sneakers and socks before drawing the doona up to his waist and standing back with her hands on those rounded hips. She was so cute when she blew that lock of blonde hair of her forehead.

  So cute, in fact, that he drunkenly crooked a finger at her. “C’mere.”

  Without a suspicious thought in her pretty head, Dee had bent down.

  “Closer.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she did as bidden, her face coming closer, and then -

  Ryder woke, eye lids fluttering. A bead of sweat trickled down from his temple and he coughed. Rolling over in the bed, he snapped on the lamp and looked at the clock. One in the freaking morning. God, he was sick. His nose ran, his eyes felt puffy, and his cough was enough to wake the dead.

  Fumbling for the phone, he rang the ambulance station.

  By the time the ambo on duty answered, Ryder was coughing and spitting into a tissue.

  “Shit,” Donny said. “You sound sick.”

  “Not gonna make it to work in the morning.” Ryder blew his nose. Yuck.

  “Wise choice,” Donny agreed. “I’ll let the boss know first thing. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks, man, appreciate it.” Snuffling, Ryder hung up and flopped where he lay, arm hanging down, hand on the floor.

  Jesus, he felt crook. If he wasn’t mistaken he had a head cold worse than he’d ever caught before in his life. His head thumped, his nose was runny yet blocked all at the same time, and man, his muscles ached.

  Huh, maybe he was getting the flu.

  Getting up, he sat on the side of the bed for a few minutes.

  Jezebel peered around the corner of his door before, with a happy mrrp, she trotted across the room to jump up onto his bed, head-butting him on the arm.

  “You’re about the only female who would find me attractive right now,” Ryder informed her.

  She looked coyly up at him as he stroked her before pushing to his feet and staggering to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he grimaced. He looked like shit, felt like shit, and had caught some shit. Life did not look good.

  Splashing water on his face, he dried it with a towel before reaching for more tissues. Into the kitchen for a bottle of water and back to bed, where he flopped down and went straight back to uneasy sleep.

  This time when he awoke groggily, it was to find Moira, his sister, bending over him frowning. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” he croaked.

  “You sick or something?”

  “No, I’m the picture of health.” Reaching out, he grabbed more tissues and blew hard, finding it almost as revolting as Moira did, going by her lifted upper lip.

  “Maybe you better shower,” she offered. “You’re all sweaty.”

  “I feel like shit. Go away and leave me alone.” He looked at her out of one eye. “How did you get in anyway? And why are you here?”

  “Donny rang me seeing as Mum and Dad are away on holiday, otherwise Mum would be here. I got in using their key.”

  Made sense. His parents were his landlords. “Huh.”

  She shuddered at Ryder’s racking cough. “Cripes, don’t cough on me, you’ll make me sick, too.”

  “Your sympathy is heart-warming. Really.”

  “Yeah, whatever. What do you need?”

  “Peace and quiet.”

  “Need medicine?”

  “You think I need medicine?”

  “You’re the ambo.”

  “Peace and quiet.” He closed his eyes.

  “C’mon, man, I can’t leave you here like this. Look, I’ll cook you some breakfast and bring it in.”

  Bless
her, Moira had a raging paranoia about sickness but she’d try and help him regardless. It would be more hindrance than help, because to see her washing her hands before, during and after handling anything of his, freaking out if she even coughed once, and boiling all his used dishes in hot bleach would just do his head in.

  He managed a small, very fake, reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

  She looked part relieved, part disbelieving. “You’re just saying that.”

  “Moira, go, please. I’ll just sleep this off.”

  “You need medicine.”

  “I’ll get some later.”

  “Hmm.” She squinted at him. “I can do something now, surely.”

  He thought for a second. “Oh, yeah, you can.”

  “Good.” She was already rubbing her hands as though feeling the hot water and bleach working their magic.

  “See if Jezebel wants to go out for a run and then bring her back in and feed her, please?”

  “She’ll be all right outside.”

  “She likes being in.”

  “You know she was a stray before you took her in, right?”

  “Run, back in, feed.”

  Moira’s gaze fell on Jezebel and her eyes widened. “Holy cow! Is she-”

  “Moira, if you’re not going to help, go away.” He dropped his forehead onto the pillow and groaned. His head was starting to throb. His Mum here he could have tolerated, she’d have smoothed his brow and made him hot soup, but Moira was not a restful soul.

  “Sheesh, okay.”

  “And can you please clean her litter tray before you go.”

  There was silence for several seconds, then, “Do you have rubber gloves?”

  “I’m not asking you to sift through it bare-handed, just empty it all into a bag, disinfect the tray and refill it with clean litter.”

  “I can use disinfectant?” There was a bright note in her voice.

  “Sure, use the whole bottle. Whatever.”

  “Okay.”

  With relief he heard her disappear down the hallway, Jezebel meowing as she followed.

  He dozed uneasily, coughing and waking enough to blow his nose. Several times Moira came in, once to let him know Jezebel had done her business and that Moira had done what he’d asked, and the second time to let him know she was going and to ring her if he needed her. With a promise that she’d call back in the afternoon she left. He groaned in relief as the front door shut and once more silence reigned.