My heart thuds in my chest, those stupid hopes I never intended to exist immediately deflating like a popped balloon.
“The wrong idea about you?”
“About us. We’re friends, right?” He looks at me pleadingly. I’m not entirely sure what he’s hoping my answer will be.
“Yes,” I murmur, not quite believing it. Joey might be okay with us being friends, but I’m not sure I can ever be friends with someone I have masturbated to. That’s probably crossing the friendship line, right?
“And I don’t want those women putting ideas in your head about changing me.”
“Even if they tried, it wouldn’t matter,” I tell him, glancing down at my lap where I’m fidgeting with the bottom of my shirt.
“What do you mean?” he demands, his tone forcing me to look up and make eye contact with him.
“I’m not interested in more with you.”
Liar!
“You’re not?” He is gaping at me, making me question why he finds this so surprising. Was I really that obvious? Or is Cynthia right, and Joey just assumes everyone wants to fuck him?
He might have been right about my own wishes, but no matter what hopes I have, deep down, I always knew Joey wouldn’t be feasible.
“No. I was your neighbor for six months, Joey. I try not to judge, but if I were looking for a man, I’d rather go for one who doesn’t have a revolving door.”
He appears shocked by my words.
I silently pat myself on the back. I mean, how often do you get to say what you want when you want? Usually, I have a great response minutes, hours, or sometimes days later.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to the moment I walked in on Jarrod and Natasha together and say what I truly wanted, instead of freezing up. Even the interactions afterward never fully satisfied me. I could never get out what I wanted to say.
“So, you’re saying that, if I were to make a move on you, I’d have no shot at all?” he confirms.
“Nope.”
Another lie. I might know Joey isn’t a feasible option long-term, but I’m horny enough, and curious enough, that I would totally go there.
He appears speechless. I rather like that I caused that.
“Look, I’d love to chat some more, but I’m running late. Think we can leave soon?”
“Right,” he murmurs, his mind elsewhere.
When we are close to his office, I recall what happened this morning. I’m not sure it really matters much, but since I overheard Joey’s conversation with Zander and Declan the other week and his name came up, and this has now been two visits in a short period of time, I suppose it can’t hurt to say something.
“Hart Clayton came over this morning.”
Joey actually swerves off the road and onto the pavement.
I scream, grabbing the dashboard and squeezing my eyes shut.
When we stop, I risk opening my eyes. We didn’t hit anyone or anything, thank God.
“What the hell, Joey!” I yell, shocked again when he reaches out and grabs my shoulder, swinging me around to face him and making my seatbelt dig uncomfortably into my shoulder.
“What happened? Tell me everything,” he demands, his expression dangerous and almost feral.
“Are you insane?” I gasp out, trying to free my shoulder, but his grip just tightens.
“Teags, tell me everything. Every. Single. Word.”
Frustratingly, I melt at the use of my nickname, and while my heartbeat is booming uneasily, I recount the short conversation, which is not at all worth Joey’s reaction.
Hart just happened to get some of my mail and popped over to give it to me. No big deal.
Still, a small part of me speculates over the two visits close together. I used to wave hello or goodbye to Hart, and sometimes stop for a short chat, but those times were never so close together. Add in the feeling that I have been watched lately, and I question if it’s all connected.
Or maybe Joey made me paranoid.
“You are not to be left alone with him, you hear me? If he comes by again, you stay inside and don’t answer the door.”
“What are you going on about?” I snap, picking up on some seriously concerned vibes. I can’t help taking them on and wondering just what the hell Joey thinks Hart is into. This can’t be about something as benign as fraud like I hoped.
“I can’t go into the details. Just know that Hart Clayton is not a good man. He’s into some seriously messed-up shit. And if you’re ever alone with him, I want you to call me immediately, and don’t be afraid to scream out for help. You got me?”
I stare into his frantic eyes and nod. He’s completely terrifying me right now.
“No, Teagan, I need you to say it out loud.”
“Okay, Joey, I won’t be alone with him,” I say on a shaky breath.
“Good.”
He reverses out, waiting for a space to open in the traffic. Our silence is filled with tension.
By the time he’s pulling into the front of his office, I’m ready to get out and away from him. I have had enough excitement for today.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I throw the door open.
“Teags,” Joey calls out, and I pause just before jumping down from his car. “I’m sorry I scared you back there. It’s just … Clayton is not a good guy. I need you to realize that.”
“Message delivered,” I snap, jumping down from the car, only to be pulled up short again when he keeps talking.
“I’ll bring dinner home tonight.”
“Dinner?” I ask, turning back around to face him.
“Yeah. I’ll see you about seven, okay?”
“Sure,” I agree, closing his door and rushing over to my own car.
I make quick work of getting away from J.P.I. and don’t look back to see if Joey is watching me. I might look a little crazy as I make my fast getaway, but I need space.
That had to be the craziest lunch I ever had, and I’m not sure it was entirely bad. I made friends, I had fun, I ate good food, and I had a stark reminder that Joey is not right for me. Also, my curiosity is piqued about Hart Clayton, which I will need to drown so I don’t go and do something stupid, like try to figure out what has Joey so freaked out about him.
Okay, so maybe not a perfect lunch.
Close enough.
Chapter 6
After work that day, still unsure of the lunch and the craziness of it, I decide to take Karma out for a walk. I need the fresh air, and living with my ultimate fantasy, even if real life can’t ever live up to that, means I’m noticing every bump and roll poking out of my clothes.
I have walked Karma in the past, and a handful of times since Joey moved in with me, but I always forget how strong she is, and how much of a disaster it is every time I decide to do this.
Since Joey has been staying with us, he usually walks Karma in the morning. However, for my fitness, as well as the good wearing Karma out will be for my house, I walk her after work each day.
What is the worst that can happen?
On our way to the park that is a few blocks away, I reconsider my decision with every step.
If Karma wasn’t such a force to be reckoned with, I would have pulled back and given up on my newfound resolution. Instead, she keeps pulling me forward, and I have little choice but to follow.
Karma tries her best to dislocate my shoulder as the park comes into view. I almost fear losing her when my hands begin to lose their grip of the leash. Then we are pulled up short at the discovery of another dog and their interesting butt.
She spends what I believe to be an embarrassing amount of time sniffing this dog’s butt, while me and the owner, a short balding man with beady eyes, smile politely at each other. Then we glance away, attempting to not make eye contact again.
When Karma goes in for a bum lick, I pull her away.
“Come on,” I encourage with a strong yank of her leash.
She soon bounds away, and I again barely keep up before she pulls up short,
this time to sniff an area of grass that is apparently of great importance, given how hard she stuffs her nose into the ground. When Karma finds a smell she likes, she can be a while.
I glance around the park, noting the few children and guardians scattered about, as well as other dog owners either pulling or being pulled by their pets. When my eyes stroll over two men having what looks like a one-sided, heated argument, my eyes become glued to them.
I know one of them. I just can’t place where.
I skim through my mind, thinking of dads I know from work, or regulars I see at my local grocery store, but I come up short.
The familiar man is tall, good-looking, with hair passed his ears. He looks rigid, annoyed, and far more stoic than the man he is with, who is waving his arms around. While his voice doesn’t carry, he is clearly upset.
The taller, familiar man gives him a small shrug before watching the other man storm off in a huff.
Not wanting to be caught staring, I glance down at Karma, only to find she is staring at the now alone man, too. Then she takes off toward him, forcing me to take a few steps with her before I drop the leash or risk ending up flat on my ass on the damp grass.
“Karma!” I shout, worried I will be spending the rest of my day searching for her.
When I find my footing, I see she has attacked the tall man with a body slam so hard he hits the ground. Then she gives him sloppy kisses all over his face in her exuberance.
Shit!
“I’m so sorry,” I call out to the man, running over to them and trying to grab the leash so I can pull Karma off him.
“It’s okay. I remember how she is,” he says with an easy smile.
He knows Karma?
Then it clicks. This is the same man from Joey’s office. That’s why he looks familiar. Sasha and I were checking him out earlier today.
“Still, I’m sorry,” I say, finally grabbing her leash and pulling her off him.
Harvey, I recall his name, laughs as he gets back to his feet, petting Karma affectionately before brushing himself off.
“You were at the office earlier,” he notes, eyeing me critically
“Yes, I’m Joey’s neighbor, actually.” Am I still considered a neighbor when he’s now turned into a housemate?
“Oh, right, the one who burned down his house.” He says this so matter-of-factly I’m not sure what his tone is. Is he impressed? Angry? Suspicious?
“Yes, that one,” I reply awkwardly. “Teagan Bevon.” I hold out my hand, though it feels too official for the situation. “You’re Harvey, right? You work with Joey?”
“Yes.” He thankfully takes my hand and we shake. “Harvey Newberry.” He nods back down at Karma. “She used to greet me similarly in the office every morning. Greeted most of us like that, except Sasha, who she wasn’t sure of.”
“At least the office floor is less wet now,” I say, eyeing the damp material along the side of his pant leg. I’m positive the back of him is likely soaked.
“True. But now she’s gone from the office and none of us get attacked coming into work.” He says this like it’s a bad thing.
“I’m planning to walk her every day, so you’re welcome to swing by and be attacked whenever you want.”
He laughs again, walking beside me when Karma takes off after another smell. “Tempting offer.”
We fall into silence while I wonder if he plans on hanging around. I don’t exactly get a friendly vibe from him, more a brooding one. And the way Sasha didn’t take offense to his grunting tone earlier made it seem like he was a man of few words. But maybe he wants to talk now? Talk to me?
Am I so out of touch with social situations that I can’t read this right?
I can tell with one expression when a child has pooped. I can even often tell when they are moments from pooing. I can read when they are about to crack, when they are sleepy, hungry, or even frustrated. How can I read so much in a baby’s expression, but be completely clueless when I glance at an adult?
While adults have much more complicated feelings, and a much better understanding on how to hide their feelings, I should still be able to tell when someone wants to talk and when they don’t.
I’m out of practice.
I guess there is only one way to get back into it.
“I saw you earlier with that man …” I trail off, almost backing out, before I shore up my spine and continue. “Is everything okay?”
When Harvey doesn’t speak for a moment, I question if I overstepped. This is a man I don’t know, and what happened is likely very personal. He works with Sasha, and even she can’t make him open up. I knew her two seconds before I was helping her and her friends steal a car.
Why would Harvey want to talk to me?
I have completely read this situation wrong and likely made him want to escape immediately and never see me again.
“Yeah,” he finally mutters, his eyes on Karma and not on me. “I just needed to get things straight with him.”
“What kinds of things?” I ask, holding my breath and hoping I haven’t again pushed too far.
Harvey is quiet, and I only just restrain myself from glancing over at him. I don’t want to seem too desperate or needy.
“He thought we were more serious than we were. I don’t do serious.”
“Why not? He looked cute,” I point out. He also looked angry and dramatic.
I can understand getting angry like that if provoked, but Harvey wasn’t even reacting. He seemed calm.
“I just don’t. I like things uncomplicated in my life.” As he pushes aside the hair that escaped from behind his ears, I hold in my sigh.
Harvey is good-looking, like, incredibly good-looking. And while it’s a shame womankind has no chance with such a fine specimen, I’m at least a little happy he isn’t making it easy for mankind. If we must suffer, so should they.
“Relationships don’t always have to be complicated,” I finally say once I’m removed from my Harvey fog. “My parents were married, drama-free, for thirty-eight years.”
“Were?”
“My dad passed away a couple years ago. Heart attack.”
“Sorry for your loss.” He sounds genuine.
I glance up at him, noting his eye contact. I see pity in his gaze, but I also see kindness and some softness there, too.
“Thanks.”
Emotion clogs my throat. It takes several deep breaths for it to fade away, yet the grief that usually consumes me when I allow myself to think about him doesn’t come. It’s finally getting a little easier to think about him and not break down in tears.
“Thirty-eight years is impressive.”
“Yep.” I jump back on the previous topic. “And they raised six kids, so maybe they were just too exhausted for complicated,” I say more to myself.
“Six kids sound complicated enough to me.”
Karma pulls hard on the leash again, dragging me forward until Harvey rescues the leash from my hand.
“Thanks. She’s a handful.”
“I thought she was Joey’s dog?” he remarks, his hair falling in his face again.
“She is. I just felt like some fresh air, and I’m hoping the more tired and worn out Karma is, the less likely she is to destroy my house.”
“Sounds like solid logic. Are you just finishing up?”
“Actually, we just started.” I glance at him, questioning if he is hoping for an easy exit, or wants to stay with us longer. Does he like my company? “She just dragged me here a few minutes before she pounced on you.” I glance at his ass, trying to ignore what a good ass it is, and see it’s damp. His cargo pants definitely need a change.
“Do you mind if I stay on with you guys?”
“If you’re volunteering to have your shoulder removed from its socket, then you’re more than welcome,” I joke.
Just as I say this, Karma finds a new smell to chase and Harvey is jolted forward before he can control her.
“Luckily, I have two shoulders,” he jokes,
or at least, I think he jokes. It’s hard to say since his expression doesn’t change, but I laugh all the same.
“So, how long have you worked with Joey and the rest of the gang?” I ask after a few minutes of silence between us.
“I started almost a year ago.”
“You like it there?” I immediately think of how crazy my lunch ended up being. Harvey must see things like that all the time.
“It’s as good a place as any.” He shrugs.
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”
“Are you thinking about applying?” His tone is even. I still can’t tell if he’s teasing or not.
“No, I’m not sure private investigating is quite my thing.”
“No? The way I heard it, you picked a lock, enabling you guys to steal Zander’s car earlier today.”
My cheeks redden. “You heard about that?”
“Word gets around. Jerry wouldn’t answer Zander’s call at first, so he rang me to see if I could find you guys. Before I even started looking, I got a call back saying Jerry had you all tracked.”
“Jerry? I’m not sure I’ve met him yet.”
“As far as I know, no one except Zander has met him. Compared to him, I’m a social butterfly.”
“Weird.” I shake off my questions, not wanting to get distracted. Although, I do plan to circle back to this Jerry person later. “Back to your point, just because I can pick a simple lock, doesn’t mean I would be any good as a P.I., or anything involving patience.”
“Most people don’t think of needing patience when you think of this profession.”
“Well, I just assume being one is similar to being a police detective. My dad was a police officer for over thirty years. He told me some days were awful, days when he had to deliver bad news and days when he saw the worst of humanity. But other days, he had quiet ones. He would spend hours doing paperwork, or hours patrolling streets and helping tourists find their way to some famous monument. Then, as he worked up the ranks, he became a detective. Then it was hours spent looking over evidence, interviewing suspects and witnesses. Some days were productive, and some days weren’t. I figure you guys are sort of like that.”
“You could say that, but we don’t have to jump through as much red tape as cops do.”
I Burned Down His House (Love at First Crime Book 3) Page 7
