been. She’d vacillated forever over what she wanted to eat. He’d finally said fuck it and stepped in with a decision. Only to have her argue that she didn’t want to eat in the truck. Fine. Pizza it was. Her culinary tastes couldn’t have changed that much, right? She’d loved pizza. Only then she’d dithered over the ingredients for-fucking-ever.
Her chin tried to touch the roof of his truck. “I don’t appreciate you swearing at me.”
Another distraction. “The. God damn. Address.”
“Fine.” She blew out a put-upon breath and flounced back against her bucket seat. “3015 Maple Way.”
He leaned forward to plug the address into the GPS. What the hell was he going to find there? The woman had been procrastinating like crazy since they’d reached town.
He followed the GPS’s instructions to the address she’d rattled off and parked along the curb.
“I thought you said he was sharing an apartment.” He frowned at the Cape Cod, two story house the GPS had sent them to. Lights burned in two of the downstairs windows.
“I must have remembered wrong.” Sarah's voice was breezy as she shoved open her door and hopped out of the truck. She turned to stick her head back inside. “Why don’t you wait here while I talk to Sean.”
Backing up, she slammed the passenger door, spun, and fast tracked it up the sidewalk toward the rambling porch.
Tag caught up with her as she reached the steps.
“Looks like someone’s still up,” Tag said dryly as he joined her. He glanced at her tight face and pressed the doorbell.
She tensed as footsteps sounded behind the door. He could see her muscles bunch. That was obviously not Sean behind the door. Mitch, perhaps?
The door opened to an older dude with thinning, steel colored hair.
Definitely not Mitch, then.
Tag frowned. The roommate? He glanced at Sarah, but she just stood there, paralyzed, looking uncomfortable as hell. He turned back to the house’s occupant. There was no recognition on his face. The guy obviously didn’t know who she was.
“We’re looking for Sean Gillespie,” he said slowly when Sarah didn’t ask for her brother.
“Sorry,” the guy who answered the door said with a polite smile. “Nobody here by that name.”
“Oh—sorry to bother you.” Sarah suddenly popped to life and turned, ready to hightail it back to the truck. Tag caught her elbow, halting her in her tracks.
“Do you know where he moved to?” Tag asked slowly, feeling his way, already suspecting the answer to the question.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Sarah had lied to him…again. This was not Sean’s address.
“Nobody by that name has ever lived here.” The guy shrugged, and the door started to close.
“Could he have moved out before you moved in?” Tag asked, aware of Sarah’s tension beside him. Her arm was rigid beneath his fingers.”
The door stopped moving. “If he did, it would have been twenty years ago. That’s how long I’ve had this place.”
Okay. So, Sean was a no go. But what about Mitch? Could this be where she was supposed to meet Mitch?
“What about Mitch Armstrong? You know him?”
The guy shook his head, and for the first time a gloss of suspicion touched his face. Tag couldn’t blame him. Anyone with a healthy dose of common sense would question why two strangers were pounding on his door while tossing names around.
“Thanks. Appreciate the help.” Out of the corner of his eye he caught Sarah’s flinch. No surprise there, his voice had turned grim.
He let go of her arm and followed her rigid spine back to his truck. Climbing in, he turned to stare at her, letting the heavy silence eat at them both.
“I must have written the address down wrong,” she finally said, her voice too high…too tight…and completely unconvincing.
Sure she had.
“You never came out to visit him? Never vetted his living space?” He locked his hands around the steering wheel and turned to stare out the windshield. Christ, he didn’t want to watch her lie.
As protective as Sarah was over her little bro, there was no way she would have let him move down here without visiting, without inspecting his place, without making sure he’d be safe. She would have made sure she knew where he was living and who he was living with.
“No.” The denial was choked out in a small, tight voice.
He thought she was going to leave it at that, but she must have felt that the answer was too bald. Too unconvincing. That he would know better.