“I have a ten-step process, believe it or not.”
“I’ll choose thenot,” I said. “I can vouch for her, and you can trust me. She’s not a psychopath.”
“Does she have a name?”
“I’ll give you all her information once you agree to help me.”
“I don’t operate like that, Katie.”
“You owe me a favor.”
“No, last I checked, if we’re keeping score, you oweme.”
“Check again.”
He leaned against his doorframe, looking as if he was rewinding all our run-ins—analyzing the less-than-cordial to the “I’ll tolerate you” to the “I’ll help you” categories.
“Okay, so I do owe you,” he said finally. “I’ll help—as long as all the background information checks out.”
“Deal.” I held out my hand for him to shake on it, and the moment his hand touched mine, I regretted it.
A jolt of warmth shot through my veins, and I suddenly wanted him to touch me in other places.
We drew back our hands at the same time.
“What’s the client’s name and when is she getting married?” he asked.
“Michelle and in April,” I paused. “To your brother.”
“What the fuck?”
“You agreed,” I said. “A deal is a deal.”
“I’m not fucking up my brother’s wedding.”
“You’ve been fine ruining everyone else’s…”
“They’ve been inseparable since the day they met.” He shook his head. “She’s lying to you or playing games.”
“I’ll record our next conversation if you like, but she looked pretty serious, and she’s texted me about it, too.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the proof.
He clenched his jaw as he read, and all the color drained from his face.
“I’ll talk to you about this later,” he said, stepping back. “I need to look into this further…”
“Okay, thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” he said, still looking crestfallen. “How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Okay.” His voice was tight. “I’ll be in touch. Now would be a good time to unblock my number.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Fourteen (B)
PRESENT DAY
