Page 161 of Show Me

“I am.”

He strides for the door. The bell jingles overhead. A few seconds later, his taillights disappear from the parking lot.

Silence drops over the office. Ruby turns back toward her desk. I don’t move. “Do you think it was him?”

Maybe. I drag a hand across my jaw. This morning, somebody left a photograph outside her house—one taken through her kitchen window. And now Greg shows up out of nowhere after hearing about it. The timing bothers me—a lot.

“I don’t know.” Which is true. If I knew, I'd already be doing something about it.

She arches an eyebrow. “He came by because he heard what happened.”

“Maybe.”

Her eyes narrow as she taps the end of her pen on the desk. “You don't believe that?”

I lean against the counter. “People hear things in this town.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah.” My gaze drifts back to the window as if I can monitor where Greg went next. “But most of them don't show up.”

“Exactly.” It’s clear she’s thinking the same thing as I am and only questioning me to see if she’s off base.

Silence stretches. Neither of us says what we're both thinking. The photo. The tape measure. The way Greg knew exactly why he was there before anyone explained it.

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he's just a guy with bad timing. But until we know who's been watching her, I'm not ruling anybody out.

Chapter Eighty-Six

Xavier

Closing Time

The door chimes. Brent. Of course he’d fucking show up too. He steps inside like he has every right to be here, easy, unbothered, eyes moving once across the room before landing exactly where I knew they would on Ruby.

He sees me watching. Smiles. “Afternoon.”

I don’t return his greeting as my back muscles tighten. “What do you want?”

Ruby’s head snaps up. “Xavier–”

I don’t look at her.

Brent strolls toward the counter like we didn’t just have that exchange. “Just checking on my project.”

“We’ll call you.”

“I figured I’d stop by.” His hand rests on the counter, fingers tapping once, casual. Too casual. His gaze drifts past me. Back to her. “See how things are going.”

I step closer, not enough to make a scene, enough to put myself between them. “She’s working.”

Brent lifts his hands, like I’m the one escalating. “Relax, man.”

“I am relaxed.”

He huffs a laugh. “You don’t look relaxed.”

I don’t respond. Don’t give him anything to work with.