“You want to let me know what you’re thinking?” I prop an elbow against a shelf, leaning on it. “Maybe bounce some ideas off me—”
“Nononono—”
I’m not expecting the panicked way she reaches for me, eyes wide, soft hands grasping at my upper arm and tugging me away from the shelf.
I jerk back, glancing at the bags of beans—did I almost knock them over?
“Uh,” I grunt. “Sorry?”
“No, no, I just...”
She’s still touching me as she freezes.
Hands curled around my bicep, warmth soaking into my skin, her bright eyes staring.
Then she jerks, skittering backward till her ass touches the shelves against the far wall, putting as much distance between us as possible.
Her eyes fall to her feet. Her hands tuck behind her back. Her face glows, dangerously fetching red.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “The shelves are just—the last time I had to rebuild this place, it was on a budget. The shelves are cheap particle board on pegs. And you’re kinda heavy.”
There’s something about the way she says you’re kinda heavy that splatters my thoughts like a paintball volley hitting canvas.
Fuck, would I be too heavy for her if we if—
Stop.
Breathe in, breathe out, let go.
Good luck. I can’t shake off feeling her hand against my skin.
“No big deal,” I say, leaning against the wall next to the door instead. “I’m not here to cause damage. Just trying to help.”
“...yeah. About that.” Wincing, she looks away, rubbing a hand to the back of her neck. “I was looking at the police report from my dad’s death. It has a lot of details I didn’t quite process the first time I saw it. Back then, I was still in shock after he...you know.” She trails off with a shaky breath, finding her words to continue. “There were unknown fingerprints all over Dad’s car. On the steering wheel, the seat belt.”
Seat belt? That reminds me.
“I meant to tell you,” I say. “Remember the shots of the cockpit from your dad’s plane?”
“Yeah.”
“Notice anything weird inside?”
She frowns, tilting her head. “I can’t remember off the top of my head.”
“The seat belt was unfastened,” I point out. “Now, no offense, but your dad doesn’t sound like someone who’d have the presence of mind to unfasten his belt and bust a window out as he was crashing and drowning simultaneously.”
She blinks at me.
“Most SEALs wouldn’t even have the presence of mind to do that, and we’re trained to respond when shit gets bumpy. Not unless I’d planned it in advance and put in some major practice,” I say slowly.
“That...doesn’t surprise me. Not really. Another hint he did it deliberately, I guess. But there’s more, Alaska.” She wrinkles her brows together. “I remember there was one more witness who saw him alive—possibly the last known person to see him before he died. Flynn Bitters. He used to be the front desk clerk at the inn. He’s retired now. Holds down a stool at Brody’s most of the time, drinking away his retirement.”
Yeah, I remember that name all right.
“Bitters, your dad’s old drinking buddy?”
Felicity starts. “How’d you know that?”
Now, it’s my turn to look away, dragging a hand through my hair and clearing my throat.
“The guys were messing with me after work one night. About you and half the town thinking we’re a thing. Holt got shitfaced and loose-lipped. He was babbling on about when you moved here, giving him a black eye when you were little, and he mentioned your dad and how the rumors about you aren’t true.”
“O-oh.” She makes a strangled, embarrassed sound, then huffs, folding her arms over her chest. “He was looking up my skirt! He deserved it.”
“I think even he agrees.” I chuckle. “But listen, about this Bitters guy—maybe we should try talking to him?”
“You keep saying ‘we.’” She shakes her head. “You can’t keep taking on my problems. I should be the one to—”
“No. My turn. Until we’re sure Gavin’s not coming around snooping again, it’s my problem too. I’m trying to make sure he stays the hell away from you.”
“Is he...?”
“He’s out, yeah,” I say grimly. “As far as I know, he packed up and took off out of town like his ass was on fire.”
“Good riddance.” She eyes my face. “I could think of someone else who deserves a black eye, and it’s not you.”
I grin. “You gonna knock Gavin’s lights out for me, Fliss? My valiant defender.”
“Oh, stop.” She pushes a giggle back into her mouth.
“Whatever. I’ll behave. Long as you’ll let me come with to talk to Bitters.”
“I...” Her shoulders slump. “Okay. Fine. You’re probably big enough to scare him into being honest anyway, and that’s better than grouchy and defensive. He can be a mean drunk. Fair warning.”
“I thought Blake said he was clean?”
There’s a long pause as her face sinks.
“...he was. Some people stay clean. Some people don’t.”
I have a feeling she’s not just talking about Flynn Bitters.
But before I can ask, she brushes her hair back like she’s physically dusting away sour memories, and lifts her chin. “There’s one other thing we need to talk about.”
“Yeah?” I cock my head.
She looks at me like she’s staring down a dragon, blushing again. “What we’re going to do about those rumors.”
“What rumor—oh.” Uh. Fuckity. I scratch at my cheek, fingers tangling in my beard. “You mean us?”
“Yes.” She flicks her hands in a distressed, helpless gesture. “I feel like everyone’s watching us, waiting for us to hook up or—I dunno—kiss in public? It’s kinda hard to be sneaky with that going on and too many eyes on us.”
“Yee-ah.” I draw the word out, rubbing my chin. I already know she’s about to look at me like I’m crazy, possibly throw a bag of beans at my head, but hell, here goes. “Hear me out. What’s the harm if we just let ’em think it’s true? If everyone thinks we’re dating, they’ll stop watching and waiting for it to happen.”
I don’t think the noises that come out of her mouth count as English.
Or remotely human.
There’s a garbled squeak, a strangled groan, her hands fluttering like she just learned all of sign language and wants to put it to good use faster than her hands can move.
Mostly, she stares at me like she’s never heard something so ludicrous in her life.
Finally, she manages a fumbling, incredulous, “What?”
Ouch.
I keep my smile up, shrugging. “Would it be that terrible? It’s just temporary. When we don’t need the ruse anymore, we’ll let people think we naturally drifted apart and stayed friends. It’s a good distraction, and it’ll stop folks from needling us to death, asking why we’re always together.”
“I mean...”