But Owen added, “Could you at least put lover boy out of his misery before you go? Next time you have an argument, maybe tell him not to hang out at your place of employment.”
She snorted at that because not only had theynothad an argument but Simon wouldn’t listen to her in the first place. She did walk out through the front door instead of the back, where her car was parked, and went toward Simon. He appeared to be on his phone, texting somebody, so, when she sat down beside him, he didn’t even look at her.
Finally she said, “Is there a reason why you’re here?”
He looked over at her and nodded. “Yeah, it’s dinnertime,” he stated, one eyebrow raised.
“I have to get an oil change.”
He stared at her flatly.
She shrugged. “I’m hoping to find somebody who may have been wrongfully convicted for murder,” she explained. “Either that or he’s just committed a second one.”
Instantly Simon stood. “Fine, I’ll go with you.” She frowned and remained seated, but he shook his head. “I walked. You at least owe me a ride home.”
She shook her head. “I don’t owe you jack shit,” she stated calmly.
He burst out laughing, tugged her to her feet, slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow, and had her walking to the crosswalk, where they went around to the parking lot. “Look. I shouldn’t be here. I know that,” he muttered. “I don’t even know why I’m here, except that you’re one of those faces I can’t stop coming to see.”
“No, you shouldn’t be here,” she snapped. “I caught complete hell from the guys over your presence today.”
“They saw me?” Simon frowned.
“Of course they did.”
“I could be doing business in the area.”
“You could be,” she agreed, “and I did tell them that but—”
He nodded. “It wasn’t enough for them, huh?”
“Everybody wants something to bug me about,” she replied, “so you’re it.”
“Of course I am,” he noted. “Besides, I’m also the psychic and, therefore, the resident target.”
“Absolutely, and the fact that I’m sleeping with you,” she added, after a moment’s hesitation—as if trying to find the right word—“just adds to it.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Sleeping together?”
“Well, we’re not doing all that much sleeping,” she noted, with a smirk.
“Right.” He nodded. “Good point.”
Something odd was in his tone. “You don’t like that phrase?”
“No, I can’t say that I do,” he replied. “I’d like to think that something more is between us.”
She frowned, shoved her fist into her pocket, then finding her keys, pulled them out, and walked to her car. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. And the fact that she didn’t say anything seemed to send him into a deeper, darker mood. Finally, when they were inside her car, she turned and looked at him. “Of course it’s something more.”
“But what?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said in exasperation, “and, if you need me to tell you that, then something’s wrong.”
He took a long deep breath and then nodded. “You’re right. It means something is wrong.”
She didn’t like him when he was like this. It was unusual for him to sound insecure. “What happened?” she asked, suddenly realizing more was behind this than what she’d originally assumed. It was stupid of her to not pick up on those clues. She’d been irritated because the guys at work had been bugging her.
He shrugged. “Nothing.” And, of course, that meant the opposite was true.