But do I wrench myself out of Davis’s grip?
Nope.
Why?
I don’t want to talk about it.
“Bathroom,” he murmurs so quietly that it’s almost like he’s not talking. “Hide. Now.”
“Excuse you,no. If someone knows the code?—”
And that’s the last thing I say before everything goes from bad to worse.
Because Ray, one of the Rock cousins and fellow museum volunteer, is calling my name.
“Sloane? Sloane, you’re never going to believe this. I just found an old friend of yours who got all tied up in that glitter bombing! I saw you come in here, so I offered to bring him. Sloane? You in here?”
Davis stops and looks down at me, and for the first time since I realized who he was when I spotted him on my first trip to Shipwreck, the man makes a face that’s not completely straight and unreadable.
I don’t know what this face is, but it’s not good.
It’s full of suspicion.
Worry.
It looks like he’s connecting dots.
Like he knows.
He knows what I’ve been doing.
“Go hide in the bathroom,” I hiss at Davis. “Go! Now!”
He looks at me.
Just looks at me.
Doesn’t narrow his eyes, doesn’t scowl, doesn’t make anare you out of your mind? That’s what I just toldyouto dolook.
Simply stares at me, straight-faced.
And I’m pretty sure this straight-faced look is sayingfuck no, even though it’s not saying anything at all.
Possibly I took this pretend boyfriend thing a little too seriously if I think I can read this man’s mind.
Or possibly that’s the only thing a rational human being would think in this situation.
Footsteps come closer.
“Pleasego hide in the bathroom, and I’ll explain later,” I hiss at Davis.
The man folds his arms over his chest and looks at me, and this look, for once, is incredibly expressive.
There’s no mistaking thefuck noon his face now too. “You knew the blond caveman was here?”
The blond—oh, crap.
Seriously?
