Mallory stood up and leveled the guy with a finger point complete with sparkly black polish. “I’ve warned you about this before.”
“What?”
She held her hand out in the general direction of the front door. “Swaggering in here—”
“Swaggering?”
“—and asking questions. My customers don’t like it and neither do I.”
Sophie’s attention bounced between them, fascinated how each word seemed to be code for something else. An energy crackled as they bickered.
Good grief, Mallory really does like the FBI guy.
The corner of his mouth tipped up, if only for a second. “There aren’t any customers here.”
Leah knocked on the table. “Uh, hello?”
Mallory snapped her fingers until he looked at her again. “When did you get back to town?”
So much for a blank expression. He was all in now, staring at Mallory with his gaze doing more than a little wandering. “How do you know I was gone?”
“Good question.” Sophie thought it but Leah said it.
After a few seconds of the most awkward staring contest ever, Mallory looked away. She ran a hand over her sweater, smoothing the edges down before she sat. “A thousand people live here and you’re the only one with a great love for black suits, well, you and the undertaker, so you being gone was kind of obvious.”
“I had to go to Washington for a few weeks.”
“But you’re back now?” Leah asked, sounding not too happy about the idea.
That anxiety ball started whirling inside Sophie now. “For Callen?”
The agent nodded. “There are some open questions.”
It was what he didn’t say that had Sophie taking a deep breath to keep from revisiting her rice in a very unpleasant way. “You can’t possibly think the brothers are running a con.”
“Well, look at Sophie.” Mallory smiled as she said it.
Leah’s smile was even brighter as she dropped back against her chair with her arms folded over her stomach. “Nice.”
“Well, what do you think they’re doing in town?” the agent asked.
Sophie glanced at the other women and both stared back. Looked like she was in the lead on this argument. Good thing Sophie didn’t back away from the challenge. “You mean other than rehabbing a house? Living. Answering threatening phone calls.”
Her aunt had been conned by Charlie in the most intimate way. She now had missing jewelry to explain and a husband she needed to come clean to, but Sophie never blamed the Hanover brothers for Charlie’s acts or her aunt’s bad choices. The sins were his and unless someone intended to drop a stack of ironclad evidence on Sophie’s lap, she’d never believe the sons participated in the scams.
Callen made her twitchy, like he saw right through her, but she never questioned his decency. Certainly not after seeing him with Declan and Beck.
And Beck? The guy wouldn’t even sleep with her without a full criminal background check, or so it felt, so she doubted he had a criminal bent.
“Still with the calls?” Mallory asked.
Leah shrugged. “Not as many, but a few.”
“How many of those are from your dad?”
“I don’t want to think about that.”
The agent cleared his throat, bringing the attention winging right back to him, which Sophie figured was the point. “Yes?” she asked.
“I’ve spoken with Mr. Baron.” Reeves said.
The chair legs screeched against the hardwood floor as Leah pushed back and sat up straight. She leaned in on the table on her elbows. “Excuse me? You talked with my father?”
“Of course.”
Mallory started closing up the food containers. “Wrong answer, spy dude.”
“You can call me Special Agent Reeves or Reeves, even Walker is fine.”
Sophie knew enough to see this investigation, which sounded more like a witch hunt, was aimed at exactly one finding—Callen as a con man. “Do you really think Mr. Baron will give you an unbiased answer on the Hanovers?”
“Do you know something about this, Ms. Clarke?”
“No.” Leah barked out the response to Reeves. “Don’t drag Sophie into this.”
Sophie liked the answer, but he was in the FBI. “Can I say no to him?”
“Why not?” Mallory asked.
“He’s FBI.”
His hands dropped to his sides. “Yes, I am.”
Leah fished out the fortune cookie bag and grabbed one. “He’s fishing, and Beck said no talking without him being present.”
Mallory folded up the edges of a small white rice container and handed it the agent. “You can have this along with your answer.”
With his mouth dropped open, he took it. Held it in front of him like it was a fragile piece of crystal or something. “To what?”
“We’re closed.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “The sign says open.”
“I reserve the right to close on a whim.”
Sophie liked Mallory more with every word she spoke. Except for the whole FBI-agent-is-a-hottie thing, she had a certain quickness Sophie admired. So, she joined in. “For lunch.”
“You’re saying you want me to track everyone down at their house? Fine. I’m happy to do this in private.” The agent put the carton on the end of the table.
Looked like Mallory wasn’t the only quick one in the room. Maybe it was the badge or the gun, neither of which Sophie had seen but she’d heard all about them from the ladies at the bank, but this guy shook her. A redneck with a vendetta posed one kind of threat to the Hanovers. This guy was a whole different type of scary.
“I think her point was you need to arrange everything through Beck,” Sophie said.
“Does Beckett Hanover speak for you, ma’am?”
Her muscles shook as she held onto the edge of the table with a death grip. “For this he does.”
Leah stood up. “Agent, it’s—”
“Special Agent Reeves.”
“Yeah, I got the name. But it’s time for you to go.”
He turned to Mallory. “You really are closing?”
“For a short time. If that’s what it takes.”
His gaze sharpened. “And if I need to talk with you, Ms. Able?”
“You can call me Mallory.” She picked up that small container again and handed it to him. “And you know where I live and work.”
This time he held onto it. “You don’t need me to call a Hanover first?”
“I am not going to talk with you about the Hanovers—ever—but if you want to talk about anything else, you know where I am.”
Sophie swore she saw him smile that time. But only when he glanced at Mallory. Then he gave a sharp nod and with a determined walk spun around and left. Just as Mallory ordered.
Sophie looked back at her lunch companions. “What just happened?”
Leah shook her head. “You saw Mallory’s odd fixation on the FBI guy.”
With a crinkling sound, Mallory fished two more fortune cookies out of the bag and handed one to Sophie. “He has potential. He just needs to unclench.”
That didn’t match with what she just saw and heard. “I . . . wait, what?”
Leah held up a hand. “Don’t try to make sense of it. I pretend she doesn’t find the guy fascinating.”
But that only led to more questions. Sophie decided to ask them. “Does he know Kristin Accord?”
Leah’s eyes widened. “Do you?”
Uh-oh. Looked like she waded right into trouble. Sophie had their joint attention now. “She’s come to the house a few times and stopped me at the diner.”
The crack came the second after Leah broke open her cookie. “Whose house?”
“Shadow Hill.” Leah kept staring and the dread pushing up So
phie’s throat started cutting off her air, so she got the words out fast. “The lady did it twice. The first time I turned her away because she was acting weird and we’d gotten all these calls. By the second time, I’d overheard the guys talking about her, so I told her to leave and not come back unless she was invited.”
“And at the diner?” Mallory said as she munched on the cookie.
“She wanted to ask about Callen. I told her I didn’t know anything and walked away.”
Mallory brushed the crumbs off in a big show of hand slapping. “Well, well, well.”
Leah nodded as her smile returned. “Yep.”
Sophie had no idea what was happening. “What?”
“I totally see it now,” Mallory said.
Leah read her fortune then threw the scrap of paper on the table. “Told you.”
This seemed to be getting worse. Sophie wondered how she could get so lost while listening to the same conversation. “What are we talking about?”
Without missing a beat, Mallory grabbed the empty water glasses around the table and filled them. “The protective instincts. The thing for Beck.”
The air whooshed out of Sophie’s lungs. “I’ve barely mentioned his name.”
She knew that was true because she weighed every sentence, reworking it in her head to keep from talking about him. Tom noticed her issue. Sophie could only imagine how Leah and Mallory would react to a Beck, Beck, Beck fest.
The pitcher hit the table with a soft clunk as Mallory gave a knowing smile. “Totally on purpose.”
Leah nodded again, this time slow and long, drawing out every movement. “Definitely.”
Time to slam the brakes on. “I don’t have to be in love with Beck to think he and his brothers deserve a little privacy.”
A shocking silence filled the room. No one moved. Until that moment Sophie hadn’t even noticed the music playing in the background, low but definitely there.
Mallory pointed at Sophie. “You used the ‘L’ word.”
Sophie held up both hands even though she doubted she was strong enough to stop this crazy train. “Only to make a point.”
One of Mallory’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows inched up. “So, getting back to my earlier question, then, you haven’t kissed him?”
Leah burst out laughing. “Look at her face.”
“I did but after . . . well, he turned me down.” Blurted, coughed up, whatever you wanted to call it, Sophie put it out there then closed one eye, waiting for the response. Like, comments about how she moved too fast or it was her fault. Something that would wipe the idea of a replay out of her head for good.
Leah’s laughter sputtered to a halt. “No way he said no to sex with you.”
“Maybe you didn’t use big enough words or something.” Mallory tapped her fingernails against the table. “That would explain his strange slowness.”
Talking felt good. Getting it out there and examining it . . . well, it didn’t hurt like Sophie feared it would. They figured Beck messed up, which was kind of how she saw it.
After that kiss? Good grief, she’d never understand how he walked away. “Oh, trust me. He knew what I was suggesting. I wasn’t subtle about it.”
“He must have hit his head or something.” Mallory shook her head as she looked at Leah.
The support kick-started Sophie’s breathing and calmed the gnawing in her belly. All her worries about fitting in and having a good time faded away. “It will be fine,” she said.
Mallory performed the perfect eye roll. “Most boring word on the planet. Fine? It is not fine until he gets his pretty head out of his impressive butt.”
“Well, he did say something about going out to dinner.” Sophie nibbled on her bottom lip, waiting for a reaction before she ventured further. All she got was hopeful glances. “Look, I’m not even sure going out with the boss is a good idea. I’m only in town temporarily and—”
“Dinner.” Mallory turned back to Leah. “That’s good.”
“Sounds like he’s fixing his mess.” Leah picked up her glass. “That’s promising. Also saves me from having the what-is-wrong-with-you conversation with him.”
“Did you guys miss the I’m-leaving-eventually part?”
“Oh, we heard it. We just don’t believe it.” Mallory reached over and dragged a small, lined notepad off the counter behind her. “Sounds like it’s time for a new poll. How long until Beck gets off his butt and takes you to bed. Leah, bet?”
“Whoa!” Sophie used her hands and did a little yelling thing.
Nothing stopped them. They kept talking and scribbling.
Leah snapped her fingers. “And we should add how long until Sophie realizes she doesn’t want to leave Sweetwater, imperfections and all.”
When even sighing didn’t work, Sophie gave up. “What do I get when I win?”
Leah flashed her the same smile that made Declan stop doing whatever he was doing and listen to her. “Easy, you get Beck.”
Sophie tried to ignore how that idea sounded better and better each time she heard it.
Chapter Fourteen
Beck ignored the stares he felt burning into him from store windows and how stupid he felt as he lounged against the side of Sophie’s car in the middle of downtown. The whole waiting-for-her thing might play as stalking. He hoped not. He had a reason to be downtown. Not his fault the bank sat one block over from Gossamer. And she had to know he’d come running.
When I dream about you . . . I’m never thinking about your brain.
A woman couldn’t say shit like that and then not expect a man to hang around, looking for a second chance. All he wanted was to get her to dinner and back in his arms. Well, not all. He had this fantasy about pushing her up against a wall then slowly sliding into her but they could start with a meal. He wasn’t an animal.
He shifted his weight. Yeah, much more of the pushing thoughts and he’d make quite the scene out here on the sidewalk. But he’d pissed away her seduction scene. He had no intention of doing that a second time.
The secrets, the hiding stuff—he still hated all of that. But he saw a sliver of light that gave him hope. He’d grabbed on to Tom’s words about change and how she fit in Sweetwater. Then she sat at the table and talked about her family, about her heartbreaking loss, and Beck realized their different backgrounds landed them in the same place. She craved a place to belong. It was the one need he understood.
The brief peeks inside her life changed his tactics and eased his need to know all the pieces of her story right that minute. He found the patience he needed to give her a bit more time, even as he struggled against throwing rapid-fire questions at her like his mind screamed at him to do. He’d take the risk of waiting and hope whatever secret she hid didn’t wallop him later.
He heard the jangling of keys and his head popped up. Gone were the shorts and T-shirt she wore at the house. She now sported dark, slim-fitting jeans and a sleeveless shirt that showed off her toned arms and dipped in a sexy “V”; but the spiky black heels did him in.
She stopped right in front of him, the amusement obvious in her mouth and around her eyes. “Are you checking up on me?”
“Do you need watching over?” Because he’d volunteer for that duty all damn day.
“Usually not when I’m on a lunch date with the girls.”
“That’s a shame.”
She shot him a sexy smile. “I’m thinking we’re talking about something other than lunch.”
The sun streamed through her hair and her skin glowed in the light. Damn, with or without a mop she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. If he didn’t get her into bed soon his dick might explode. And there was nothing pretty about that thought.
Time to put step one of that plan into action. “Actually, we’re talking about dinner.”
She lifted her hand, shielding her eyes, and squi
nted at him. “What?”
That was just the excuse he needed. With his palms on her hips, he turned her a fraction so the sun’s glare hit them in the side and not straight in her face. Since he liked touching her, he kept his fingers right where they were. “Have dinner with me. Just us, no family.”
“Okay.”
That was almost too easy. “You’re saying yes? Like that, without thinking it over?”
“Should I say no?”
“Only if you want to see me beg.” And at this point he might just do it.
“In that case . . .”
“Too late.”
“You do have to admit this is a big turnaround.” Her gaze bounced to a passing car then back to him. “I hate to ask this, but—”
“The secrets?” Even when he tried to separate out the punch of need for her from the desire to know more about her, reality kicked him in the ass. Rather than ignore the issue, he rammed into it head on.
“Singular—secret. But, yeah.”
Well, at least she was finally admitting she had one. Progress. Not the leaps he wanted, but at least there was a sign of movement. “I’m thinking one day soon you’re going to trust me enough to tell me. I don’t want to wait, but I’m willing to try.”
“I do trust you.”
His fingers tightened on her hips as he dragged her in closer to stand between his open legs. “Sophie.”
“It’s not my secret to share, Beck.” Her fingers went to the top of his tee and her thumb traced along the edge, skimming his throat.
He was two seconds away from throwing her in the back of the car and stripping that hot little shirt right off of her. He had to blink and concentrate his few remaining brain cells on the conversation. The topic was important but she touched him and he didn’t care about anything but getting naked.
She had a hold on him he was having trouble shaking off. “Whatever this secret is, it has something to do with my house.”
“I . . .” She blew out a long breath, sending a puff of air brushing over his cheek. “I promise you it’s not about us.”
He didn’t understand how a smart, vibrant woman who spent hours around him could be so clueless about how he operated. “I wish I could make you understand that we can’t separate the two. You and whatever you’re doing impacts us.”
A Simple Twist of Fate Page 13
