Liars Like Us

25

Looking contemplative now, he gazes at his glass of whiskey and swirls the ice slowly around. “You…” he begins carefully. He stops for a moment, then adds in a husky voice, “Are an unusual person.”

On the outside, I’m perfectly still. But on the inside, I vibrate with an emotion I can’t name because I’ve never experienced it before. I wait for him to continue with my heart—and other things—throbbing.

“You’re sensitive, but you hate that about yourself, so you try to hide it. You want to be in control of everything and take care of everyone, but the effort exhausts you. You’d never ask for help, however, because your pride won’t allow it. You’re strong, so everyone relies on you, but you’re also lonely, and you worry too much. And you’ve never had anyone ask you what you wanted to do with your life, because it was already decided for you before you were born. Which makes you resentful, yet also guilt-ridden for that resentment, because you know that all things considered, your life has been much better than most.”

He glances up. Our eyes lock. I fight the sudden and unwelcome urge to cry.

“How close did I get?”

I lick my lips and swallow around the lump in my throat. “How do you know all that about me?”

“Because we’re so much alike, I could have been talking about myself.”

He lets me sit with that bombshell for a moment before continuing.

“And all it took for me to understand that was to listen to you tell your employees you were going to have to close your store. You were devastated. The only thing you could think about was how it would affect them. I sat with one ear on your conversation and the other on the trivial word salad coming out of Alexandra’s mouth, and I realized that I wanted to know you. I wanted to help you. And if I was going to be forced to find a wife, that it would be good if she were someone I didn’t find repulsive.”

I blink. “Wow. You had me right up until the end.”

“I said I didn’t find you repulsive.”

“I know this might come as a big shock to you, Romeo, but women don’t find it irresistible to be told their best quality is not being repulsive.”

“I never said it was your best quality.”

We stare into each other’s eyes. I’m pretty sure I’m getting ticked off again.

He smirks. “Oh, I see. You want me to tell you I think you’re beautiful.”

My face turns scalding. I snap, “Don’t be an asshole,” and jump up from the chair. Then I start to pace back and forth across the living room floor with my hands propped on my hips and my temper flaring.

Watching me, Callum chuckles. “That’s one thing we don’t have in common.”

“Say one word about impulse control, and I’ll light you on fire.”

“Sit down, Emery.”

I throw him a dangerous look. He pats the seat of my chair.

“No.”

“Yes. Do it. Now.”

I stop pacing and stare at him with my arms folded over my chest and my legs spread apart in full-on warrior woman, don’t-f**k-with-me mode.

When he stands and faces me, drawing himself to his full, intimidating height, I take an unthinking step backward. Then I say crossly, “Wait, this is my house! You don’t get to go all Tarzan on me. Now sit back down, we’re not done with this conversation.”

His eyes blaze. His jaw tightens. He gives the glass in his hand an aggressive little swirl. Then he walks closer, his burning gaze on mine.

He stops a foot away and stares down at me.

I refuse to step back or even move an inch. I glare at him with my chin lifted, letting him know I’m not one of his servants he can push around.

Just like when I defied him at lunch, into his heated eyes comes a look that I could swear was pride.

He leans down until his mouth is next to my ear. Then he says in a hot, rough voice, “You’re something much better than beautiful. And when we’re married, I’ll tell you what it is.”

He pulls away, grabs his suit jacket, and sets his whiskey glass on the table, then walks out my front door, leaving it open to the night.

Ten

A

few days later at the store, I’m standing behind the front counter making a list of the pros and cons of marrying an arrogant, rich stranger who not only doesn’t love me but whose idea of a compelling compliment is saying I’m nonrepulsive when Viv walks through the door. She’s followed by Harper and Taylor, all of whom look like they spent the night crawling through a prison sewer frantically in search of the exit while dodging bullets and being chased by a pack of wolves.

“Holy s**t. What happened to you guys?”

Taylor climbs up onto the counter, stretches out on her back, and closes her eyes. She has dark circles under her eyes and a deathly pallor that her all-black ensemble does nothing to improve.

“Girls’ night. We hit it a little hard.”

I wave the pad of paper over her head, fanning away fumes. “Yeah, I can tell. You smell like you slept in a tequila factory.”

Harper says, “We haven’t slept. We went from clubbing to an after-hours joint to Mickey Ds for breakfast to here.”

Groaning, she collapses into the overstuffed chair near the front window and reclines with her bare legs splayed out and her head hanging over the back. In a miniskirt and flip-flops, her dark hair tangled and her lips chapped, she could be a shipwreck survivor who just washed ashore.