Repeat - Kylie Scott Page 0,3
all right.”
The side of his mouth lifts briefly. “You and Frances were always fighting about something.”
“Actually, that makes sense.” I laugh. “Did she approve of you?”
“You’d have to ask her that.”
“Oh, I have lots of questions for her.”
This time, when he looks at me, it’s more of a thoughtful kind of thing. Like he’s processing. I’ve given him a lot of information, and I know it takes a while to sort things out in your head. So I drink my margarita and watch the woman behind the bar, the two men sitting on stools, chatting. Even though their hygiene standards are lacking, I like the place. It’s relaxed.
Maybe it’s my kind of place.
“I don’t seem to have many friends,” I say, a question popping into my head. “Was I always like that, a bit of a loner?”
He shakes his head. “You had friends. But apparently you cut them all off when you left me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he says, shoulders dropping slightly. “Maybe you wanted a fresh start. Maybe you just didn’t want to talk about the breakup and shit. Maybe you just wanted to be left alone.”
Huh.
“Give me your phone; I’ll put my details in.” He holds out a hand. “You would have deleted me from your contacts.”
“Oh, I don’t have one. My bag and everything was taken in the attack.”
His brows rise. “You’re walking around without a cell? Clem, that’s not safe.”
“Pretty sure having a phone didn’t make much of a difference last time.”
“Finish up your drink.” He tips his chin at the glass. “I’ll give you a lift back to Frances’s place. We’ll stop by a shop on the way and get you some things.”
It’s an interesting idea. And he seems like a nice man, one who used to care about me. But from what little he said about the breakup, it sounds as if it was a special level of hell. Despite his assurances, he might very well have cheated on me. Crushed my heart. Torn apart my life. Shit like that.
After all, what would a cheater say?
“You should have a can of mace on you too, given they haven’t caught the bastard who did this to you. One of those keyring ones.” He pulls some money out of his wallet, setting it on the table. Then he stops. “What?”
“Just thinking.”
“Yeah?” He cocks his head, a lock of brown hair falling over one of his eyes. “What about?”
“Lots of things,” I say. “You’re being very helpful all of a sudden. It makes me suspicious. I mean, why would you even want to be friends with me, given our past?”
“I have no interest in being your friend.”
“Oh?”
“Trust me, that’s definitely not going to happen.” He settles back, watching me with a faint smile. Holy crap, his smile . . . it’s just a bit mean yet still wholly affecting.
I squirm in my seat. “I see.”
“No, you don’t,” he says. “Clem, you fucked me up. You fucked us up. And I’m not going to forgive you for that whether you remember doing it or not. But nobody deserves to be assaulted and have their mind messed with. So I’ll answer your questions, make sure you’ve got a cell and something to protect yourself with. Then you’re on your own.”
“You’re only helping me today?”
“No, that’s why I’m giving you my number. Like I said, you think of a question you need answered, you can text me and I’ll answer it for you if I can.”
“I can text you with any questions.” If he wants to define any future interactions, I can work with that. “But that’s all.”
“That’s right.”
“Okay. That makes sense.” I nod. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”
“One or the other is fine. You don’t need to say both.”
I smile, nervous again for some reason. “Yeah, I just . . . never mind.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, sliding out of the booth. Which means he wants to go now. I don’t know why people don’t just say what they mean.
I finish off the margarita, then wipe the salt off my lips. When I catch Ed watching, he turns away with a sharp sort of motion. Odd. For a big man, his movements have been mostly fluid, almost graceful. Guess he really wants to get rid of me. Can’t say I blame him.
* * *
“Hey, how was your day?” Frances flops down onto the other end of the couch with a bottle of water in her hand. “You got a phone?”
“Yeah. I was careful when I went out,” I say, heading off