Tell Them Lies (Three Little Words Book 3) (12 page)

Not thinking too much about it, Liz slid her hand across the table and gripped one of his. He turned his hand so that his palm met hers, and the callouses on his skin felt rough against her. Liz licked her lips, not even remotely missing the way his eyes flicked down to her mouth. Yes, tongue must stay
in
her mouth for serious conversations.

"What happened?"

Leaning back in his chair, Kieran's hand slid away from hers and she had to fight not to curl her fingers into her palm to capture the warmth he left behind.

"Community service. A lot of hours. But since I was a minor, my record was sealed to everyone except law enforcement. Then when I turned seventeen, an adult in the eyes of the great state of Michigan, my record was expunged." He took another bite of sandwich, so Liz did the same, even though it tasted like ash in her mouth. "Know why I told you this?"

Slowly, Liz shook her head. He didn't look surprised.

"We all do stupid shit, angel. All of us. And yours ain't that bad, trust me. People are practically expected to get drunk at weddings, and hey, who could blame you for throwing yourself at me?"

The chip she tossed at him bounced off his forehead, and he threw his head back and laughed. It was impossible not to join him. Then he picked the chip up off his lap and ate it, winking at her while he did.

"That's not the only reason you told me that story."

"No, I suppose it's not." Ripping the large brownie she'd brought in half, he set the larger part towards her. After he'd taken a giant bite, swallowing roughly, he settled his forearms on the table in front of him. "I lucked out with community service, but I vowed that I'd never let my mom have any reason to look at me the way she did that night I got arrested. Never. And as shitty as that night was, it flipped a switch for me. And it's why I dragged you into this whole mess, because I'd rather be buried six feet under first than let that amazing woman be disappointed in me again."

How? How was she supposed to not get sucked into this man? Who was channeling everything he was into making his mother proud. Her silly, romantic heart quivered at the determination in his dark eyes.

"In fact," he continued, as if she wasn't moments away from bursting into tears at the things he'd just said, "this tatt under my collar bone? That's the first one I got. And that story is why."

And instead of just pulling the collar of his shirt down so she could see it, he did that horrifyingly sexy man thing where they used one hand behind their neck to pull the shirt over their head. And just like that, the emotion pushing at the back of her eyes was gone. Dried up at the sight of a shirtless Kieran.

He wasn't too bulky. No, he was all perfectly sleek, toned muscle with a stretch of dark hair across his chest, arching down past his belly button. And finally, she could see all of his tattoos. There was a lion, mid-roar on the left side of his chest with some script under it. And across his right shoulder, wrapping down around his bicep was a huge design that was hard to make out when her eyes were moving so quickly. Belatedly, she realized he was speaking, and pointing to something.

She dragged her eyes up over the ridged section of his abdomen, up his umm, quite nice pectorals, to the block letters that curved in a slight half-circle under his collarbone.

Non sum qualis eram.

"What does it mean?"

Yanking his shirt back over his head, Liz almost pouted and Kieran grinned like he knew what she was thinking. "I am not what I was."

"What?" And yes, yup, she sounded breathless.

"That's what the tattoo means. I am not what I was. I wanted to see that every damn time I looked in the mirror, reminding me that I'd never screw up something again. Not for her, and not for me."

"I am not what I was," Liz repeated, holding his gaze. "I like that."

"Yeah? You should get it inked somewhere on you."

"
Absolutely
not."

He just laughed. And of course, she couldn't do anything but laugh back. But past the laughter, just a tiny, niggling thought wouldn't leave her alone. Next weekend, they'd have three full days of this. And more than a small part of her could admit that she'd probably never be the same afterward.

L
ists were good
. Lists made everything make sense. And sure, Rachel consistently gave her crap for not just making lists on her phone, which was more than capable of holding large numbers of them. Instead, Liz flipped open the moleskin journal that she kept on her nightstand, its purpose solely held in making and keeping said lists. Only this time, her hand shook a little as she pressed the pen on the paper next to the item she needed to check off.

-two pairs of jeans

-four shirts

-one sweatshirt

-three pairs of shoes

-pajamas

And that's where she stalled. Because what kind of pajamas
were
appropriate when going on a long weekend trip with your fake boyfriend and his family? Would they be sleeping in the same room?

"Ohhhhhhhh, I can't do this," Liz groaned and sank onto the corner of her bed. Both sets she'd laid out on her duvet absolutely taunted her. There were the sensible ones; pink plaid cotton shorts that hit her around mid-thigh and a matching long sleeved shirt. It covered things. It wasn't tight. She had four identical pairs, in varying colors. And on the left, something Rachel had chucked at her at their last Ladies Night telling her to ‘get it, girl’.

It was sapphire blue silk. It did
not
reach mid-thigh. It ended much higher than that, and the lace that skirted around the bottom hem just barely grazed the curve of her bottom. Yup, she'd tried it on the other night, heart pounding for reasons that she absolutely did not need to delve into. The top though, that's what was absolutely terrifying to her.

Tiny triangles of the satin covered her breasts, and there was a wide swath of the lace wrapping around her waist, just under where the triangles ended. Impossibly tiny straps held it all up over her shoulders. No, no no no way could she even entertain the idea of packing it. Could she?

For a very brief second, Liz had a flash of an idea, where she just laid on the bed wearing it, and when Kieran would enter the room, she could wink seductively and say ‘surprise!’ in a throaty, Marilyn Monroe whisper. Then she felt sick to her stomach, yanking her back to reality.

Yeah right, she’d never dare do it. Never, not in million years for a million dollars. Drawing her fingers across the slippery silk, Liz took a deep breath. Then shoved the nightie into her bag, choking down a hysterical giggle when she zipped it shut with a violence that made her stomach quiver just a bit.

Because if they didn't share a room? Great. She could wear the gift from Rachel with no one being the wiser. Yes, that worked well. And she and Kieran did share a room? Cotton pajamas it would be. And she could build a little wall of pillows in between them.

And it wasn't because of Kieran. Unequivocally, Liz knew he'd be respectful of her. Oh no, it was herself that she was worried about. The last time she'd had her defenses lowered around him, it’d only taken three drinks before she'd all but assaulted his mouth. The memory still caused a mild twinge of embarrassment. Alllllll those people watching. Oh heavens. But had she noticed? Nope. All she’d noticed was the muscles. And the lips. And the tongue.

The brisk knock from the front door snapped her from her horribly wanton thoughts. After waving a hand at her suddenly hot cheeks, Liz cleared her face and opened the door for Kieran.

"You ready?"

Gesturing him in, she smiled. "Almost. It'll only take me a couple more minutes."

"Take your time. There's not much going on tonight, we usually order pizza and play some vicious rounds of scrabble, drink a lot, if my aunt felt so inclined to buy us alcohol."

Liz laughed, but immediately thought about pillow walls. "Well, I think I'll abstain. I haven't quite developed the taste for drinking yet."

"I can't imagine." Kieran grinned, and it shot through her. Like an arrow. Or a bullet. Causing so much devastation that it surprised her. Like it ripped through the bones around her heart and lodged into the flesh that pumped blood through her whole body.

So naturally, she pivoted and walked far too quickly back to her room to finish packing. What else she threw in her bag, she wasn't even certain. Her list sat untouched on her bed.

Down the hallway, she could hear Kieran shuffle around her house. The click of a cabinet closing, her silverware drawer opening, her fridge door when it snapped shut. It made her smile as she grabbed the book off her nightstand and set it in her purse. There was something disconcerting in how comfortable she was with him rifling through her house.

And in how comfortable
he
felt in rifling through her house. Walking quietly from her room so she might catch him doing it, just to see him touching all her things, Liz stopped just outside the kitchen. He'd leaned up against her table, flipping through the pages of the book she'd left out.

"Oh, that's nothing," she said, setting her bags down to go and snatch it from his hands.

"It's a writing book."

Going over to set it on her bookshelf, Liz stared at the spine of the book for a second before she turned to look at him. "Yes. It is." He raised both eyebrows and stared back. Liz blew out a breath. "I don't want to be a writer, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking anything."

"Well, that's a lie."

Tipping his chin up, he smiled a slow, easy smile. That smile? Didn't shoot her in the heart. It hit much, much lower on her body.

"Fair enough. I guess I mean that that’s not what I was thinking. Just curious, is all."

Across the room, they kept looking at each other, and she could see it in his eyes, that he knew there was something she wasn't admitting. But she'd never said it to anyone. Had barely said it out loud to herself, lest it hold her accountable. But then she imagined his face a few days ago when he’d told her about his background. His crime. So she took a deep breath, and let the words fall out of her mouth.

"I hate my job. And I’ve thought about going back to school and get my masters in literature, and be an editor. A freelance editor, working with writers focusing on historical fiction, or romance. It wouldn't matter terribly to me, but I just want to be part of the process, of those words getting down onto the page before they get into the reader's hands. And that book is one of the best books out there on the craft of writing, which is hugely fascinating to me. I guess... I guess it made me feel like I might learn something if I read it. Not that I'll ever probably do anything about it."

Kieran looked stunned, and Liz felt like she'd just run a mile.

"Why wouldn't you do anything about it?"

"Well," she stammered, not at all expecting that to be his first question. "I'm almost thirty. I don't know if it's prudent to go back to school."

"And you'd need to get a masters to be an editor?"

"It's not an absolute necessity, no. But, it's been twelve years since I finished my bachelors in English lit, there are probably so many new things to learn and focus on since then. And I always loved school, I'd like to think that I could always improve myself. And to take that on, not just mentally, but financially, probably doesn't make too much sense." She shrugged, feeling acutely self-conscious under his steady, dark gaze.

"But you've put thought into why you would need it. Right? That's not something that people usually do if they don't plan on doing something about it."

Liz tugged on the hem of her shirt, wishing that he'd never even seen the book in the first place. Who goes around people's houses looking through their stuff?

"Don't we need to go?"

"No."

"It's just a book, Kieran. It's not worth a massive life change," she stated. Or maybe not stated, maybe her voice was a little shrill and only a lot defensive.

"It might be. If it's something you want to do."

"I never said I wanted to do it, I just said... I just said I've thought about it. Don't you ever think about doing something different?"

"No."

She huffed, walking back to where she'd left her bags, hoisting her purse over her shoulder, and lifting the handle on her suitcase so she could wheel it out to his car.

"It's nothing to get upset about, Liz, I was just asking."

"Why would I be upset? I'm not upset. I just think we need to get on the road. Isn't it a two hour drive? We don't want to be late and cause everyone to wait for us. It's rude."

When he chuckled and walked towards her, she busied herself by turning off lights in the kitchen, and locking the front door. One of his warm hands dropped onto her shoulder, rubbing against the skin before moving away.

"Hey," his voice was placating, and it was so close to her ear that she didn't dare turn around. And inexplicably, tears pricked at her eyes. "You're one of the smartest people I know. And you're way too smart to stay in a job that you hate. I didn't mean to push." Liz coughed out a laugh, and finally turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, I meant to push. But there's got to be a better reason that your age for not doing this."

Fixing her eyes on the line of his jaw, Liz breathed in and out a few times. He was right, of course. She knew she was smart enough for college, and not because she had an inflated sense of ego. School had never been a struggle for her. The Masters? It was an excuse. A horribly flimsy one, once anyone started digging. There was absolutely no reason that she needed one in order to start over. But to take on another school loan, then to start a job with a fluctuating pay. Definitely not prudent.

"It's daunting,” she whispered, boiling all of it down to one inadequate word. “To think about starting over. And I don't think anyone ever wants to admit that they're too scared to do something. To admit that something might be too hard."

Kieran hummed, placing a finger under her chin and tilting it so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes. They didn't judge, didn't look disappointed. They just saw her. "Too hard for you? I don't believe it."

"No, maybe that's not the right way to phrase it. It's a risk. And those?
Those
are hard for me."

Just one side of his mouth lifted in a smile, his eyes moving over her face. "Is that right? Well we're royally effed then, angel. Because you're supposed to be the optimist in this relationship. What hope is there for me?"

Liz laughed, just one laugh on the breath that came out. "There's hope for everyone, Kieran. Even me. I guess I just need to remind myself of that every once in a while. It just might take a little bit to get the message through."

Kieran grabbed her bags, and they walked down her driveway to his car. He opened the passenger door for her, holding her arm before she could sit. "We've got four days together, I'll remind you a few times too."

Her smile felt shaky, but it was there. And she sank into the seat, waiting for him to stow her suitcase in the trunk. Once he'd settled himself, he gave her a wink and started up the car.

"So, how good are you at scrabble?"

She laughed while he pulled out of her driveway and headed towards the highway. "Oh, I do all right."

"We shall see, angel. We shall see."