Darcy nods slowly. “I see.”
Ryder’s features turn downright suspicious.
I go on the offensive. “Look, I understand this seems strange and you have a lot of questions, but I’m going to plead the Fifth here. So let’s move on and talk about something more interesting.”
There’s nothing but silence I don’t bother to fill in. I don’t owe them an explanation. They can want one, but that doesn’t mean I have to provide it. Besides, I still can’t think of one good reason as to why I was following Charlie.
This wasn’t anything I prepared for. Truth is, it never crossed my mind he’d spot me. Or that, as the sheriff, he’d call in backup.
Was it stupid? Yes.
Should I have known better as an attorney who deals with law enforcement on the regular? Also, yes.
I don’t have an excuse.
Well, I do, but it’s not a valid one for a thirty-two-year-old woman.
Instead of the practical details of a plan, my focus had been on what outfit would make him sweat the most. Getting ready for work this morning, I’d tried on ten dresses and picked the one Hailey said was too sexy.
Maybe I’m ovulating and my hormones have clouded my judgment.
Anyway, this mess is on me, and now, I’ve got to get through it with as little drama as possible.
I down the rest of the drink, putting it on the table before folding my hands in front of myself. “So, I’m guessing it’s been a crazy day with the dead politician. Has the mistress woken up yet?”
Silence.
They all continue to stare at me.
Except for Charlie, who makes an exasperated scoffing sound.
Well, I tried. I pick up my purse hanging off the chair and dig around. I’d like to be dramatic, pull out my keys and whisk myself out of here, but who am I kidding? I’m not going anywhere.
Charlie and I still need a conversation that’s proving impossible, but I’m nothing if not determined.
So, instead of dramatics, I opt for alcohol. “Who’s ready for another one?”
When there’s no answer, I hop off my stool, wallet in hand. “I’ll be back.”
Then I saunter to the bar. And I do mean saunter. I walk slowly and deliberately, with a sway in my hips that would make Shakira proud.
Look, obviously, I can’t sleep with the guy again, but I can’t be expected not to torture him. If I act meek and scared, he’ll think he has power over me. Which he does not.
I sidle up to the bar, put one nude heel on the floor railing and lean over, giving the hot, blond bartender a smile. Sam Roberts, the owner of this dark, shabby around the edges establishment is also another of my brother’s close personal friends. Which means he’s probably a friend of Charlie’s.
But since he’d been busy when we’d arrived, we haven’t exchanged more than a cursory introduction, and I don’t have to worry about questions.
He ambles over, looking like an angel with sky-blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. He’s all long and lanky, his body fine in a long-sleeved gray pullover that’s pushed up to his elbows and faded jeans.
He puts his hands on the counter, smiling in welcome. “Jessica.”
“Sam.” I push my glass in his direction. “I’ll take another.”
“Sure thing.” He doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in and looks straight into my eyes. Only, his expression isn’t one of seduction; it’s worse.
It’s like he’s searching for the truth of me.
For a second, I get trapped by his gaze, stilling like a deer in headlights, but then I snap out of it. “Do I have something on my face?”