On the Run (Whispering Key #2) - May Archer Page 0,28

reminds me of when I was a tiny Hag-let who desperately wanted to learn to swim like the other youngsters but feared getting my hair wet. Alas, to this day, I won’t venture into anything deeper than my own bathtub.

Don’t be like Aunt Hagatha, darling. No risk, no reward. The only way to know is to ask her… so ask her.

Best of luck,

Auntie H.

“No!” Beale jumped away from me. “No. No, no. No. You’re… it’s not… we’re… I was opening his chakras,” he finally managed to choke out.

I rolled my eyes and looked back at him. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m not looking at some guy’s open chakras,” Rafe, the older, stockier guy at the door, insisted. “It’s bad enough that Dad and Gloria moved into my place, and I woke up this morning to Gloria screaming, ‘Oh, yes, Mr. Mayor!’ in a way that made me never want to have sex again. Do you know how scarring that is?”

“Yes,” Beale said with feeling. He seemed to regain his ability to speak as he walked around the counter. “Welcome to my life. And I’m not having sex, dumbass, so you can open your eyes. We were stretching, that’s all. What the heck are you doing here?”

“Me?” Rafe finally uncovered his eyes. “What’s he doing here?”

By he, of course, he meant me, and I… Well, I had no fucking clue what to say. The truth was not an option. It was bad enough that Beale knew who I really was. The more people who knew, the more people could potentially sell me out to the media, when the media finally figured out my name, if they hadn’t already.

“Littlejohn Jennings was down at the Bean telling the whole island about a dude named Trey who’s a Wheel of Fortune prodigy and who’s house-sitting for Mason and Fenn. Littlejohn said he let him in to the pool house.” The shorter guy—Gage?—grinned. “Rafe, here, said that was impossible—”

“Because it was supposed to be impossible! Beale is staying here.”

“Uh-huh. Except here he is. Here you both are,” Gage concluded happily. He dodged around Beale, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Gage Goodman. You must be Trey?”

“Er.” I looked past Gage to Beale, hoping for some insight on how best to handle this, but Beale looked a little nauseous and a whole lot confused, so clearly he wasn’t going to be any help. “Yes, indeedy. Trey. That’s me.” I shook his hand.

Beale turned and raised one eyebrow, which I interpreted as Trey? Really? You needed an alias?

I narrowed my eyes and projected the words, Yes, really, and shut up. It was a difficult evening.

Gage grinned and gripped my hand harder. “Oh my gosh, so many things make sense suddenly. It is great to meet you, man. Welcome to Whispering Key!”

“I…” I cleared my throat, surprised by this enthusiastic welcome, and again looked at Beale, but he shrugged, as mystified as I was. “Thanks?”

“Not a damn thing about this makes sense to me.” Rafe folded his arms over his chest. “Who are you, Trey? Why are you house-sitting with Beale?”

“Well,” Beale began, but he stopped and rubbed at his left wrist like he’d forgotten his watch or something.

Entirely unhelpful.

“The thing is…” I started, but no new inspiration had struck regarding which way to spin this best. Aunt Hagatha would have said to be honest and blah blah, but Hagatha had never had to lie to her temporary, mostly-but-not-entirely-platonic roommate’s busybody brothers while on the run from the paparazzi.

Until now.

“Rafe, don’t be an idiot,” Gage said. “It’s obvious who he is.”

“It is?” Rafe, Beale, and I demanded in a weird chorus.

“Yes!” Gage cast his eyes heavenward. “He’s here to see Beale. They clearly arranged this.”

Beale blinked at Gage. So did Rafe. For that matter, so did I, but I was the first to recover.

“Yes. Yes, exactly that. Shoot. And here we thought we were being sneaky, huh, Beale?” I poked him in the side, and he gave me a narrow-eyed look. “It was a, um… a hookup.”

“A hookup?” Rafe narrowed his eyes. “I call bullshit. Beale doesn’t do hookups.”

Beale didn’t do hookups?

I side-eyed Beale, who widened his eyes in a way that meant, Yeah, so?

And I gave him a return look that clearly stated, No tea no shade, but could you not have spelled that out last night, instead of making me think I was putting out subpar sex pheromones? Jesus.

I smiled brightly. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean we were hooking up-hooking up. No,