Liar Page 3

  “That sounds like it would be kind of exciting.”

  His eyes sparkle, totally mesmerizing me and causing me to tip lemonade onto my lap. After a short high-pitched squeak, I swipe at it like it’s a cup of burning hot coffee instead. Why would he be interested in such a clumsy dork?

  “How did you end up working there?” he continues once my pants have finished soaking up all the sticky liquid I spilled.

  My eyes settle on the remarkable girth of his thighs as I remember the first time I met Dave at my parents’ funeral. I’d never even heard of him before then.

  “Dave was a friend of my father’s,” I reply, glancing ahead at the track where the horses have started their warm-ups.

  “Was? He’s not anymore?”

  “Well, my father’s dead. I needed a job, so Dave hired me.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. That your dad’s dead, I mean. Not that he hired you.” He leans forward as he studies the horses, his forearms resting on his thighs.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, my eyes now glued to his upper arms, which are almost as big as my thighs.

  “So is mine. My father’s gone, too.” He looks sad, a little nostalgic, even, and suddenly, I’m not really sure how the conversation got so heavy.

  “That’s my horse. Right there.” I point at horse number twelve in the royal blue. “Lovely Liar.”

  “Oh, really?” Sitting up, grinning now, the contrast of his features astounds me. “Your horse?”

  “Well, I just laid down a lot of money on her to win. So, yeah. My horse.” I smirk, excited now.

  Without any warning, he leans over, cupping his hand behind my neck, and pulls my face toward him. My first reaction is panic and wonder what the hell he’s doing. Surely, he’s not going to bite me for serving him? But then he plants one on me, a serious, wet, no-holds barred, tantalizingly hot kiss with two lips and a hint of tongue. The thought of refusing never enters my mind. In fact, my mouth responds on its own, kissing him back, savoring the sweet sugar on his lips and the tangy lemonade on his tongue, and I have to restrain myself to keep from crawling onto his lap.

  All too soon, it’s over and he leans back, smacking his lips and eyeing me smugly.

  “Sorry. I had to do that.”

  I clear my throat, hoping to quell the brushfire that’s now raging in my undergarments. What do you say to a kiss like that? “Uh... thank you?”

  “I thought we should go ahead and get that out of the way.”

  Faintly, I hear the announcer tell us to get ready for race number five, and that today’s favorite is Sir Chance-a-Lot. I can’t stop licking my lips, wanting more of that kiss.

  A loud bell brings me back to reality, and my head snaps to the track, my eyes glued to number twelve.

  “And, they’re off!”

  Chapter Three

  “...And, here’s one thousand one-hundred, and one thousand two-hundred dollars. Congratulations.” The lady behind the counter actually looks up at me this time and smiles.

  “So, how about the next round of lemonade on me?” I wave a fistful of cash at Adam.

  “I have a better idea.” He gives me a sexy grin and glides his hand up my arm lightly.

  “Oh, yeah?” My heart beats wildly against my chest as I pray his idea includes handcuffs, body oils and hot wax. A bed might even be nice, too.

  “How about I take you to dinner tonight?”

  Man, two jackpots in one day? “I’d love to. But I’m the big winner today. Let me buy you dinner.”

  I’m mentally running through a list of quiet, romantic restaurant possibilities when I suddenly remember the ‘thing’ I have to do with Dave’s wife tonight. Dammit! “Oh. Wait. I have a... well, a ‘thing’ I have to go to tonight with my boss’ wife.”

  If I was on the fence before, I no longer have any doubt about it. I positively hate her now.

  “Well, what time is your ‘thing’ over? Maybe we can do a late dinner or get a drink or something?”

  Shoving the wad of bills into my pocket, I shrug. “Actually, that might work. I’ll probably be back home around nine or nine-thirty. I could do with some dinner then. Is that too late for you?”

  “No. That’s perfect for me. Let me walk you to your car, and we’ll work out the details.”

  I wince, remembering the long, hot walk back to the parking lot. Do I really want him to see me sweating like a two-dollar whore on nickel night? Or, folded over and panting like a winded dog half-way there? Wait. Maybe that last part might be okay. Still, I seriously don’t want him to know that I stalked him here all the way from his place.

  “That’s okay. I had to park kind of far away.” Grabbing a pen from the counter beneath the betting window, I jot down my digits and info on the back of a crumpled racing form. “Maybe I’ll just see you tonight?”

  He takes the form without looking at it and folds it carefully before sliding it into his back pocket. “Ten o’clock?”

  “Ten is good.” Smiling shyly, I don’t even recognize myself right now. Who is this girl?

  The walk back to the parking lot isn’t as bad as I’d feared. Maybe because I half-glided, half-floated all the way here. I can’t remember the last time I had been this wound up over a guy. Actually, I wonder if I’ve ever been this wound up over a guy.

  Losing the car doesn’t even irk me. Normally, that kind of thing drives me nuts, but not today. Even after it takes me about ten minutes to find the right parking lot, much less the car, I still manage to stay cool and calm. Lost the car? So what? I’m going out with the hunkiest guy I’ve seen in... well... ever. I’m not going to sweat the small stuff today.

  Finally, I manage to locate the car, crawl in behind the wheel and check the time. I need to hurry if I want to finish my deliveries and get a shower before it’s time to meet Lucy. At the very least, I have to shower before Adam gets to my place. Hell, it’s going to take me at least an hour to put a razor to everything that needs shaving.

  With me hoping like hell that I don’t hit any speed traps along the way, my car races back toward Little Rock. The first sub I stop to deliver on the way into town turns out to be a bust. The guy’s a regular, a real career criminal who just so happens to hate my guts. Since I don’t have time to track him down at one of his usual haunts, his paperwork gets buried at the bottom of my dwindling stack for later.

  The next sub is for a woman, and she is at home. Man, is she ever. Theda Wilcox-Brumley has the biggest boobs I’ve ever seen in my life, and I can only hope that she doesn’t try to smother me with them when I hand her the paperwork. She doesn’t look too happy. Then again, I probably wouldn’t be either if I had to tote those things around all day. Fortunately, my luck holds and she doesn’t cuss me or try to smother me with her breasts, at all. No, she’s a slammer. So, after I hand her the summons, she slams the door in my face, and I retreat to my car, marking her off my list and looking at the last name on today’s agenda. My last guy is a regular, too, and I know exactly where he is.

  “I’m looking for Jack Hampton.”

  The site foreman shifts his hardhat and scratches his head. I can’t tell if he’s thinking or if he has a bad case of dandruff.

  “You can try over there.” He points at a little trailer at the very edge of the building site, and then he squints at me. “But I’d wait until tomorrow, if I were you.”

  “Why tomorrow?”

  “Well, the electrician and the plumber just left, and he’s been fighting with Margie, his wife, all day. He’s not in a very good mood right now.”

  “I see. I’ll have to take my chances, I guess. Thanks.”

  Stomping across the rocks and the gravel, I weave through the portable bathrooms and piles of scrap material to the office, delivering a firm knock on the door, not wanting to look too much like a scared pussy. I learned a long time ago that you have to get your bluff in early on these guys.

  The trailer door swings open, and a short, burly man with a sour face glares at me. “What?”

  “Mr. Hampton?”

  His eyes narrow as soon as he recognizes me, and he almost growls. “Well, fuck. What the hell do you want now?”

  I hold up the subpoena. “Mr. Hampton, you are hereby—Oof!”

  Suddenly, there’s a searing pain in the back of my head and the paper flies out of my hand as I’m jerked backward by my hair and slammed to the ground.

  “Why can’t you leave us alone, bitch?” A large woman wearing a muumuu and a hardhat lumbers over me, screaming and spitting as she cocks her leg behind her, preparing to kick the ever-loving shit out of me.

  Quickly, I roll forward and punch her as hard as I can in the knee that’s still firmly planted in front of me. She screams a string of curse words as she pitches sideways to the ground, holding her knee with both hands and rocking back and forth in agony. Mr. Hampton charges out of the trailer and I’m unsure for a moment whether he’s going to help her or throttle me. Jumping to my feet, I search my pockets for my Taser and look around desperately for witnesses. Surely his workers won’t let him kill me?

  “Oh my God. Honey bear, are you okay?” He coos at her as she rolls around on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

  Brushing the dirt off my butt and the back of my legs as I move away, my eyes stay focused on the couple. Fuckwits. “Mr. Hampton, you’ve officially been served.”

  “You stupid cunt.”

  He starts to stand up, and I take another step back, shoving my hand in my pocket and locking it around my Taser. He stops and stares, considering, I’m sure, whether I have a gun. I don’t, of course, but I will sure as hell light him up if he touches me.

  “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Hampton. Now I’m going to leave.” I continue backing away with my loaded finger still aimed at him from my pocket. He stays rooted beside honey bear, who I think is Mrs. Hampton.

  “Go on! Get the hell off my site!” he yells, and I know it’s over.

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice, and I make a beeline to the car, yanking open the door and leaping inside. With shaky hands, I quickly lock it and pull on my seat belt. That whole scene could have escalated out-of-control very quickly. Wasting no time, I start the car and wrestle her into drive, peeling out and spraying gravel behind me as I go.

  From now on, I’m bringing my gun on sub runs. Dave had insisted that I get a stupid concealed weapon carry permit, and I still never carry my gun with me. I’m just afraid that if I have it, I might actually feel compelled to use it. Maybe it is a good thing that I’m going to this self-defense class with Lucy tonight. I mean, I didn’t have any problem taking down Mrs. Hampton. She was easy, even given her size, because I surprised her. She didn’t see anything coming. That’s not always the case, though. Besides, it’s not the women that worry me. It’s the men. Had Mr. Hampton decided to take my head off, I’m not sure I could have stopped him, even with my Taser.

  My hand hurts from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Probably serves me right. I shouldn’t have hit her so hard. I’ll feel that for a long time. Then again, so will she. Making a concerted effort to distract myself from all these unpleasant thoughts, I turn on the radio and crank it up. Think about my winnings at the track. Think about Adam. Think about my date tonight. Think about those beautiful green eyes, and those full, sexy lips that taste like sugar and lemonade. The stupid smile stays on my face for the rest of the ride home.

  It’s still early when I arrive at the office to pick up Lucy, which is surprising since I took extra time getting ready for my date. I’m not surprised to see that Dave is still here, too, even though Lucy isn’t. We’re supposed to meet here so we can ride to the community center together, and the thought of it makes me want to drive hot nails into my eyeballs. Sighing, I head inside to wait for her.

  “Did you get them all delivered?” Dave eyes me suspiciously.

  “All but one. Albus Gray. He wasn’t home, and I didn’t have time to track him down.”

  “That’s fine. That’s good, actually. I think I might get Kevin or Joe to serve that asshole, anyway.”

  “No need. I can handle it.”

  He cocks his brow at me and squints. “Why are you all prettied up to go to a self-defense class? You do know you’re going to be doing hands-on stuff like fighting and learning karate moves and shit? You’re supposed to wear sweats or a work-out jumpsuit or... I don’t know, a Hefty bag.”

  Choosing the right clothes tonight had been a struggle. I needed something that would work for both the class and my date. A dress was out of the question, not that I even own any decent ones, had I wanted to wear one. Finally settling on a pair of dark jeans and a low-cut red shirt, I even went so far as to actually put on some make-up. Not only that, I took extra time with my hair and after trying every single coif I knew how to make, decided to wear it down. The biggest problem is my boots. Trying to kick ass in a pair of high-heels didn’t seem smart, but seducing Adam in a pair of sneakers didn’t seem likely, either.

  “I just wanted to look nice, for a change.” There’s no way I’m telling Dave that I have a date with one of the guys I’d served today. He’d never let me hear the end of it.

  “You wanted to look nice?” he repeats skeptically. “For who? Lucy?”

  I roll my eyes. “Speaking of... Is she coming or not?”

  “She’s coming. Knowing her, she probably went out shopping today and can’t decide what new outfit to wear.”

  The bell above the office door tinkles. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

  Dave grunts and rolls his eyes. “See?”

  Lucy gives me a good once over. “Well, just look at you, dear. Don’t you look... nice?”

  I’ve had just about all the discussion I can stand on my attire this evening.

  “Thanks. Ready to go?” After grabbing my purse off the counter, I shoot off toward the door.

  “Oh, kid! Not so fast.” Dave’s tired, raspy voice forces me to heel at once.

  Dammit. “Yes, boss?”

  “Your keys are over there on the table. Leave the Mustang.”

  Well, I almost got away with it. Growling, I toss the Mustang keys to Dave and grab the Mazda keys off the table. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Marching out the door, not waiting around to watch the two of them kiss and feel each other up, I shake my head. Lucy is your typical PI wife, flashy with ridiculously long fingernails and poufy hair. Giggly with big breasts and a fondness for Spandex, she’s a walking blonde joke. But Dave loves it. He loves her. As fate would have it, the feeling appears to be mutual, as they are constantly cuddling and cooing at one another. After Amelia died, I wondered if things might change between them. Maybe some things did, but not the important stuff. They still appear to be totally in love and making everyone else around them sick.

  Lucy bounces up behind me in the parking lot and holds out some sort of necklace as I stride toward the car. “Here. I got you one of these, too.”

  I take it from her, holding it out in front of me so I can examine it. A bright, silver whistle dangles from a long nylon strap. “Uh... I don’t have a dog. But, thanks?”

  She laughs. “It’s a safety whistle, silly. You wear it around your neck, and if you ever get into trouble, you just blow on it for help.”

  What might have happened if I’d blown a whistle instead of punching Psycho-Woman in the knee today? I guess it might have confused her long enough for me to run away. Or, she could have strangled me with the nylon strap.

  “Thank you, Lucy. I’ll carry this with me from now on,” I lie.

  “You have to wear it, not just carry it. It won’t do you any good in your pocket or if you leave it in the car.”

  “Right. I’ll wear it the next time I go on deliveries. That’s what I meant,” I lie again.

  Lucy and I squeeze into the Mazda and head toward the civic center downtown. She babbles the entire way, pausing only to take a breath now and again or to give me a chance to say “yeah” or “Mm hm.”

  By the time we get there, I’m totally caught up on her dog’s medical condition, Dave’s snoring, last week’s dinner menus, and a few tidbits about their other friends and closest relatives. I also now know that Dave wears boxers because briefs are just too constricting and only the grey ones because Lucy read that other colors might cause penis cancer or testicular growths or some other crazy shit. This is all information that I could have gladly gone the rest of my life without knowing.

  “Ooh! This is so exciting!” Lucy skips ahead to the double doors and bounces up and down impatiently as I stroll up. “Aren’t you excited?”

  Actually, I’d rather be changing the oil in my car. “Well, yeah. Totally.”

  I cross my eyes at the back of her head.

  “Hurry! I don’t want to be the last ones here.”

  Then maybe you shouldn’t have been twenty minutes late meeting me? “We still have five minutes, Lucy.”

  Inside, it’s surprisingly quiet. I didn’t exactly expect half the town to show up. But I’d thought there would be more than me and Lucy, at least.

  “Are you folks here for the self-defense training?” A man in blue jumpsuit stops mopping and ogles Lucy with more than a passing interest.

  “Why, yes. We are,” she drawls.

  “They’re back there in the gym,” he says, jerking the mop handle toward a door in the back.

  “Oh, goody!” Lucy grabs my hand and drags me toward the door. “Thank you!”

  “Yeah. Goody,” I mumble.

  “We’re here!” she yells as we burst into the gym. At least a dozen people turn around and look at us like we’re crazy.

  “Lucy, I doubt they’ve actually been waiting for us.”

  She ignores me and continues pulling me toward the crowd.

  “Ladies! Come on over here,” a gruff voice calls out from the center of the gym.

  Glancing around, my eyes finally settle on the bionic instructor, six feet plus of handsomeness, all muscles and brawn. Wait a minute. I know this guy. There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. The muscles are throwing me off. Where do I know him from?