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“Not ones that pay this well. Not ones I can get without a degree.”
She sighs. “Fair point.”
“Besides.” I throw back the rest of my drink. “I’m curious now. Something weird is going on and I want to know what it is.”
Jilly snorts. “That’smyline. I’m supposed to be the one chasing stories.”
“Maybe it’s rubbing off on me.”
“God help us all.” She flags down the waiter for another round. “Okay. So what’s your read on the dad? Lukas?”
I hesitate. This is the part I’ve been dreading.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “He’s… intense.”
“Intense how?”
“Intense like he could crush me with one hand and not even notice.”
Jilly crosses her arms on the table. “And you’re attracted to him.”
“What?” I balk. “No! I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She’s grinning now as she points one manicured nail at me, looking like a fox in the henhouse. “Your whole face lit up when you started talking about him.”
“It did not!”
“It absolutely did. You got all flushed and breathy.”
“I’m drinking gin, Jilly. Gin makes people flushed.”
“Gin makes peoplehonest.And you, my little lovebug, are one blue cheese martini away from detailing someveryexplicit sexual fantasies.”
I steal an olive from her glass and pop it in my mouth. “Can we focus, please? I’m trying to figure out if my new boss is a criminal mastermind and you’re making this about my nonexistent love life.”
“I can multitask.” But she sobers up a little. “Look, I hear you. Something’s off. The secret meetings, the no-paper-trail thing, all of it. It doesn’t add up to anything good.”
“So what do I do?”
Jillian considers that question as the bar noise swells around us. Clinking glasses, laughter, someone’s bad first date going terribly awry two tables over.
“Be careful,” she suggests finally. “That’s all I’ve got. Just be really, really careful.”
“I will,” I promise. “Careful is my middle name.”
“Your middle name is Edna.”
I wince. “As if I needed the reminder.”
She laughs, but there’s worry in her eyes. “I’m serious, Rae. If this guy is into something spooky, you don’t want to be collateral damage.”
“I know.” I push my empty glass aside. “Believe me, I know.”
We order a margherita flatbread to share as the conversation drifts to safer waters. “What about you?” I ask. “Any romantic prospects on the horizon?”
Jilly makes a sour face. “Hard pass.”
“Come on. Not even a little?”