“I’m fine.” Oops, she didn’t mean her sharp tone. “Just tired. It’s been a long... week.” Had it even been a week? Six days, maybe.
How had she fallen for a man insix days?
Bancha appeared with their lunch, saving her from the terrible confessions bubbling inside. The young man beamed as he arranged plates across the driftwood table—grilled mahi-mahi glazed with tamarind and chili, green-papaya salad studded with cherry tomatoes, mango slices fanned beside chunks of sweet pineapple, and jasmine rice still steaming.
“Very good food,” he announced proudly. “Very fresh fish. Very romantic lunch. You are very lucky to have such beautiful wife, sir.”
“Very lucky,” Skeet agreed, his eyes never leaving Chloe’s face.
Her entire body heated.Oh no, no. “Thank you, Bancha. It looks delicious.”
The man left them with a bow.
“The mango looks amazing,” Chloe said, reaching for safe territory.
“Chloe.”
Something in Skeet’s tone made her look up. His expression had shifted, become more serious. “What are we doing here?”
Oh. Um.The question hung between them, thick, and it only turned her chest tight. “Having lunch?” She cleared her throat from the crazy squeak. “Maintaining our cover. Enjoying the?—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She drew in a breath. Of course it wasn’t. She took a careful bite ofsom tam,the sweet-and-sour flavors exploding across her tongue. “I... don’t know what you mean.”
Oh, liar, liar?—
“Yes, you do.”
The quiet certainty in his voice made her stomach flip. She met his eyes, then looked away.
She couldn’t do this.
She wanted to do this, but... “We’re partners,” she said. “Working a case.”
He picked up a piece of fruit. Ate it. “Is that all?”
The words were soft, but they landed in her chest. Stones. Because no, it wasn’t all. They hadn’t been just partners for days now, maybe since that first night when he’d given her his blanket, kept watch over her.
And definitely since yesterday, when the thought of losing him had nearly brought her to her knees.
But she’d been here, emotionally, before with a man. Okay, not a man like Skeet who wasn’t afraid to dive into her trouble, could take care of himself—and her, frankly—but...
This couldn’t end well.
She simply hadn’t seen this coming. Wasn’t prepared to... to uproot her life. To follow him...home?
“I don’t know,” she said quietly, her throat suddenly raw.
Skeet leaned back against the cushions, studying her with those too-intelligent eyes. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Tough.” His smile took the sting out of the word. “Because I think we need to.”
She set down her fork, appetite vanishing. “Why? Maybe this is just mission adrenaline. We’re... we live such different lives. And this is just... it’s just pretend.”
“Is it?”