Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,74

being that boring person sitting home at night while my ex walks the path of joy with a woman ten years younger than I am.”

“Makes sense.” He reaches over and strokes my cheek, and I lean into his hand without even realizing it.

“The better question is why you turned me down,” I point out.

“Only because my investigation got more complicated than I expected. See, before your break-in—when I thought I was just looking for a stranger in your cafe—I was perfectly happy to bang the hot boss.”

I roll my eyes, even though I like the sound of that, and I’m incredibly flattered.

“But after that night, I found myself digging into the details about your divorce and trying to figure out if someone was targeting you specifically. And that's when it got weird. I didn't want to read up on your private life and then pretend to ask you a bunch of questions I already knew the answers to.”

This answer isn’t what I expected. “So you do have some scruples under there somewhere.”

“Oh, I have lots of them,” he says quietly. “My job might seem strange to you—lying to strangers and sticking my nose in other people’s business. But the world is run by people who just take as much as they can, from whomever they want, as often as possible. I try not to be that guy. And I try to protect my clients from those guys.”

My heart rate seems to slow down as I listen to these words. But I’m still not sure about him. “You confuse me. I want so badly to believe that you're one of the good guys, or that good guys even exist.”

“They exist. But being a good guy isn't always a simple thing to be. Not in my line of work. There are lots of moments when I’m not sure what to do, even though I work for the best guys in the world.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But one of the reasons I hired you was that you said you needed the money for your sick dad.”

He flinches. “Point taken.”

“You didn't need the money at all,” I point out. “But a sick dad? That’s very manipulative.”

Gunnar leans back against my couch and tucks his hands behind his head. “Yeah, and the funny thing is I use that lie all the time. It’s my favorite one.”

“Your dad isn't sick?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I honestly wouldn't know. I haven't spoken to him in about twenty-five years.”

“Oh. Why not?”

Gunnar’s eyes cut over to mine. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure it is,” I say quietly. “But why is information such a one-way street with you? You asked me to trust you, and to invite you into my home. You’ve read everything legally available about the state of my failed marriage and my struggling business.”

“Some of it isn’t legally available,” he murmurs. “And I read it anyway.”

“Nice,” I say. “I’m so happy to be an open book for you.”

Gunnar sighs. “But it’s embarrassing to me. You’re not the only one on this couch with daddy issues. When I was a kid, I thought it was normal that my dad didn’t live with us in our Queens apartment.”

“Where did he live?” I ask, not bothering to hide my curiosity.

“I don’t actually know. I never went there. He was my dad, and I accepted the whole situation as normal. Some mornings—maybe once a week—I’d wake up, and he was there, drinking coffee at the kitchen table with my mother. It was sporadic, though. There’d be months when we saw a lot of him, and then he’d disappear for a while. My mother said he traveled for work.”

“Oh.” I swallow hard, picturing a small Gunnar waiting for his daddy to show up again.

“He wasn’t very interested in me,” Gunnar says quietly. “The only thing we bonded over was baseball. He started showing up in the evenings sometimes, especially during the summer. I didn’t care much for baseball before that, but I’d sit beside him on the sofa, and he’d tell me all the players’ stats. He’d bring me those cheap packs of baseball cards, and they became my favorite thing in the world.”

I sat very still, listening to this story. It’s the only personal thing Gunnar had ever shared about his past.

“He even said: ‘we’ll go to a game sometime when you’re older.’ And I think he regretted it immediately, because I started asking him when. Other boys in my neighborhood had been to Shea Stadium with their dads. The bleacher