I punch the air. “Knew it. Called it.”
She sets her head on my shoulder, sighing happily. “You did. You always know. And I know you’re hot for your bodyguard.”
I tense. Should I tell her the truth? That we’re involved? But I promised Banks I’d keep us a secret. Then again, she didn’t askif I was involved with him. Only if I was into him. It’s not truly a denial then when I say, “Yes, but it could never go anywhere,” then hop up and check the time. “I need to go. I have a to-do list ten miles long.”
As I leave, the guilt intensifies. My sister’s sharing her heart with me, but I’m lying to her by omission.
Still, it’s for the best. My job is to protect her. It always has been.
I find Banks in the lobby, and we head over to A Likely Story. William’s chatting with a customer in the celebrity memoirs section. “From the second she tells the story of her early life, it’s utterly unputdownable,” he says to the man in his soft Irish lilt.
“Then I’d better get it.”
“Excellent,” he says, and after William rings up the customer, he meets my gaze, his brown eyes hopeful. “Hello, Ripley. What brings you to A Likely Story?”
Like he doesn’t know.I do my best to rein in a grin as I say, “Just a little epistolary delivery.”
His eyes twinkle more. “You don’t say?”
“I do say,” I add, then thrust the letter at him. He grabs it, clutching it like a precious thing.
Having finished that task, I’m about to leave when I glance around, then lean closer. “You’d better be good to my sister,” I whisper-hiss.
Banks flinches.
William holds up his hands in surrender. “That’s all I want to be.”
“Good,” I say, then drop the mama bear act. For now.
I wave goodbye, and once we leave, Banks whistles low and approvingly. “You’re fierce.”
I square my shoulders. “I know.”
“And if it’s any consolation, he seems quite taken with her.”
“He’d better be.”
“Remind me never to cross you two.”
“Don’t ever cross us,” I say with a smile as we walk along the block to my truck.
“Where to next?” Banks asks as we pass the tattoo shop.
“You said you never went back to Lucky Falls.”
He tenses. “Right. But I don’t want to go there.”
“I get that, but Darling Springs is cool. Can I show you around my town?” My voice pitches up.
His shoulders relax, then his eyes twinkle. “You’ve shown me a lot of it. Did you forget our yoga and nail salon escapades?”
“The local coffee shop too,” I add.
“And the fuel at Pick Me Up is top-notch.”
“But there’s more to Darling Springs,” I say, stopping on the sidewalk. “Want to see it?” I feel like I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for an answer, even though he hardly makes me wait.
“I do.” He leans forward on his boots, like he’s coming in for a kiss. But he stops short, smirking instead. “Can you show me where you Saran Wrapped Scott Nelson’s truck back in twelfth grade?”
