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I meet his eyes with my quick response. “It’s Spring. I like purple and they’re comfy.” I take a sip of my iced coffee to cover my hard swallow.
He glares at me the way he used to when he knew I wasn’t being honest. It’s how he got me to admit I had a crush on him.
Which means…I need to bolt. “You know what? I’ve got to run. We’ll plan something again soon. Don’t forget about that list from Chase. Same time next week.”
I race out of there before he has a chance to make me spill my guts out.
And it’s scary how much I want to.
9
Simmering.
It’s a new kind of rage that pulses through me. Not the kind when a client lies to me assuming I’m too dumb to see right through it. But this one bothers me to the core.
And if I know myself, I know exactly why.
Ignorance.
I hate when I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.
Dad sits across me, picking up a cracker and taking a bite. “You sure have a way with that girl. So, you off today? I’m thinking we should take Jackson off Levi’s hands for a bit—”
“How long has she been staying here?” There’s an edge to my voice that Dad probably doesn’t deserve but I sure as hell couldn’t take it out on Charlie.
Dad cocks his head. “Who?”
“Charlie,” I bite.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs and leans back.
I’ve had just about enough of being treated like an idiot for one morning. I glare at my father. But I don’t have the patience to argue with a third party. “Fine. I’ll just go ask her myself. It’s been a while since she and I had it out in the middle of Main Street.”
“Wait.” He sighs. “I moved her in yesterday.”
“You moved her in?”
“She came in last night asking for a room and…she had a lot of stuff with her.”
I sit up, running a hand over my face. “Are you charging her?”
“I humored her with just enough to cover taxes.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“This isn’t about you, Noah.”
I shake my head because I know what he’s not saying. It’s not my business. But to hell with it. “Why?”
“Roger gave her five days. She didn’t want to come here, but I have a feeling it was between this place or her car.”
I curse under my breath and slide out of the booth, leaving a tip for Tess on the table.
“Want an espresso to go for the office?”
“I’m not going to the office.”
The unlabeled door swings open with a creak, and I step inside. I’m early for my meeting with my client—which is Monday—but this won’t wait.
