Lie to Me (8 page)

“I’m fine.”

“You bothering her?”  Stopping next to her, his hand came to rest in the small of her back.

For an instant she felt a fissure of warmth, right before it was doused by the memory of that same big hand resting on his date’s backside.

It was enough to make her pull away.  “We were just talking.”

“Really?”  Ryder didn’t take his gaze from Jason.

He looked from Dee to Ryder and back.

“Really.”  Dee gave a tight smile to Jason.  “Thanks for the concern, Jason, I’m fine.”

That caught Ryder’s attention immediately, his gaze snapping to her, sweeping up and down her form as though he had x-ray vision and was doing a scan.  “What happened?”

“Nothing.”  Annoyed, she straightened her shoulders.  “Don’t you have a date waiting for you?”

“Yep.”

Good grief, sometimes the man was a real dimwit.  “Don’t you think you should go back to her?”

“And leave you here with him?” Ryder snorted.  “I don’t think so.”

That he was obviously protective of her should have made her feel all warm and fuzzy, instead, she wanted to punch him.  Jesus, how could the irritating man be her protector one minute, then go off and shag his date the next without another thought?

“Jason was going to see me home.”  The words were out before she could think.

That had both men blinking, Ryder in shock, Jason in, well, shock.  That probably made three of them, because even Dee felt a little shocky.

Damn, Simon was right.  Her words were coming back to bite her on the arse.  Big words, big mouth, big arse, it all fit.

But to back down now would make her lose face, and the hell if she was going to do that in front of Ryder.  Plus he’d want to know why she’d lied and she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him.  Not in this lifetime.  Not even if she was tortured with her mother’s old bagpipe records.

“I beg your pardon?” Ryder finally managed to ask incredulously.

Give credit where it was due, Jason didn’t dob her in, instead, he just watched her silently.

“I said, Jason’s going to see me home.”

“Him?”
Ryder jerked his thumb in Jason’s direction.

Call her mean, but it gave her a little bit of satisfaction to see the disbelief in Ryder’s eyes, not to mention the little flare of anger.

“Oh, haven’t you met Jason yet?” she cooed.  “Ryder, this is Jason Dawson.  Jason, this is-”

“I know who he is,” Ryder snapped.  “I just can’t believe you’re going home with him.”

Hands in pockets, not one expression on his face, Jason watched silently.

“Better believe it.”  Striding forward, Dee linked her arm through Jason’s and smiled up at him.  “Let’s go.”

Without a word, he walked past Ryder.

Dee fluttered her hand at Ryder with a cheerful, “See you later, have fun with Rachel.”

“Dee!”

Ignoring him, she kept walking.

There were no more protests but she felt his gaze boring holes into the back of her head.

The little flutter of glee was welcome, but it slid away when the silence remained unbroken and she found herself almost plastered against the side of a man she normally was only on nodding acquaintance with, mainly because he was so damned unsavoury.  Now, thanks to her big mouth, she was walking down a quiet street with him, her hand in his elbow, his hip brushing hers.

Not that he could help it, not with her generous hips, but still… Okay, now she felt awkward.  Goddamn, why did she have such a big mouth?

As the sound of the pub faded, she cleared her throat.  “You can leave me now.”  Shit, that sounded ungracious.  “I mean, its okay, you don’t have to walk me home.”

“No worries.”  He kept walking.

Glancing up at him, she wondered what he was thinking.  Stoic expression, gaze fixed ahead, silent.

She had to stop from glancing over her shoulder to see if Ryder was still watching, but damn, she wanted to, mainly because she didn’t feel very safe.  The Dawson boys weren’t known for their gentlemanly behaviour, and here she was having offered herself up simply to rile Ryder, show him she wasn’t needy.

So she threw herself at Jason.  Needy?  Bugger that.  She needed her head read.  She was bordering on insanity right now.  That’s what Ryder did to her.

The closer they drew to her shop, the bull-nose veranda casting shadows, the more nervous she got.  Not that she’d show it.  If Jason tried anything funny she’d kick him in the nuts.  A Miller never went down without a fight, and Dee sure as hell didn’t intend to go down at all.

Normally she’d have gone around the back to go inside but she wasn’t going to risk it.  At least they were still on the street where they could be seen and heard if Jason tried anything.

Taking her hand from his elbow, she dug the keys from her bag and slotted the shop key into the door of the newsagency.  As the lock clicked open, she looked up at him over her shoulder.

Still silent, he simply watched her, the shadows on his face making his expression difficult to read.

Still, she had put him on the spot and he hadn’t dobbed on her.  Yet.  “So, um…thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”  Pushing the door open, she took a step inside, a prickling going down her spine in expectation that he would grab her, maybe push her inside, demand a little sexual payment for going along with her stupid story.

When he didn’t, she felt a flush of shame and turned back to say something nicer to him, something more than just ‘okay’, but found only an empty doorway.  Looking out, she saw his figure walking back towards the pub, his hands still in his pockets.

Shaking her head, she shut the door and flicked the lock.  One thing was for sure, the night had ended weirdly.

The light she’d left on in the back entry of the shop lit her way down the aisle and through the little kitchenette.  As she’d planned to return through the back way, she lifted her hand to flick off the back light switch only to spot something in the stained glass window.

Opening the wooden door, she saw something hanging on the security screen door.  Cautiously, she opened the door and peeked out to either side.  There was no one in sight, so she stepped out and looked at the security door.

Hanging from a piece of string was a bunch of half dead flowers.

Huh
.  Untying the flowers, Dee grabbed the stems, only to swear and drop them as the sharp sting of thorns bit into her already tender palms.  Sucking gently on one particular sore spot, she crouched down to study the bunch of flowers.

Crap on a stick, the flowers were half dead roses and bougainvillea, the stems complete with long, sharp thorns.

“What the hell…?”  Using fingertips, she picked the bunch up carefully, standing to hold them up to eye level.  “What sick bastard did this?”

Annoyed, she tossed the flowers into the wheelie bin at the corner of her building before turning and walking back inside, locking the doors behind her.

Man, if she had a secret admirer, he must hate her.  Probably some kids playing a dumb joke.

Shaking her head, she went up the stairs to bed.

Chapter 3

Standing at the kitchen sink, Ryder still couldn’t believe it.  Last night Dee had let a Dawson walk her home.  At night.  On a quiet street.  A
Dawson
, for Christ’s sake.

Looking through the window at the grey rock dove perched on the veranda rail, he shook his head.  She’d actually walked home with one of the Dawson brothers.

Pouring hot water into the cup, he dipped the tea bag up and down before discarding it into the sink and going out onto the veranda to breath in the early morning air.  He coughed, his throat feeling a little scratchy.

Dee had lost her mind.  For some weird-arsed reason she’d… He still couldn’t get over it.

In fact, it’d stuffed up his whole evening.  He’d been unable to get rid of the thought of Jason and Dee together.  That had messed with him something chronic, so much so that Rachel had finally accused him of not paying her any attention - okay, she was probably right - and had finally stormed off.  No sweet body to cuddle up to, no nooky.  It wasn’t often he had a date and didn’t end up rocking the bed - or car or table or sofa or veranda post or anywhere else that took his fancy right then and there.

Dee had messed him up.  So concerned for her his date had messed up. He was going to have it out with her today, come hell or high water, doing such a stupid thing as keeping company with one of the town troublemakers.

Jezebel came wandering around the corner of the veranda, meowing.

“Not my fault you’re hungry,” he informed her.  “You slept on the spare bed all night and went out as soon as I got up. 
Now
you want breakfast.”

He could swear she fluttered her eyelashes at him.  For sure she was casting him coy glances as she wound around his legs.

“Don’t try to get around me, you hussy.”

After several minutes of her pestering him, he gave up the notion of finishing his cuppa in peace and went back inside, cracking open a tin of salmon and filling her bowl.  Ensuring she had plenty of fresh water and a litter tray in the laundry - he really had to get a cat flap installed - he grabbed his keys and slid them into his pocket after he locked the front door.

After a few stretches and warm ups, he jogged down the driveway and turned onto the road.  Meeting Scott at the corner, he fell into step with him.

“Heard about Dee and Jason?” Scott queried.

“Jesus, that didn’t take long.  Who told you?”

“Simon.”

“Big mouth.”  Disgruntled, Ryder scowled.

“Hey, you rang him when Dee walked off and asked him to watch her.”

“I
said
, if he hadn’t already left the pub, could he track them home and make sure she got there safely.”

“Oh, ‘cause there’s a difference in what you said and what you meant.”

“Listen, numb nuts, I was trying to protect her.”

“You could’ve walked her home.”

“I had a date.”  Ryder coughed.

“Really?”  Scott grinned.  “And how did Rachel take you stranding her in the pub while you had Dee followed?”

“I don’t understand women.”

Scott gave a snort of laughter.

“Seriously,” Ryder said.  “All I did was ring Simon, he did me the favour.  Can you believe Rachel accused me of not having my attention solely on her?”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“I was making sure a friend was safe.  Is that so wrong?”

Scott slid him a sideways look.

Scowling, Ryder fastened the pace.  Scott didn’t say anything further, just kept pace, but there was a grin still on his mug that Ryder would have liked to knock off.  Luckily they were friends or he’d do it.  He might do it anyway.

They jogged onto the street leading to the main street and Ryder continued past the usual route they took onto another side street, instead veering onto the main street itself.

“We going somewhere?” Scott asked mildly.

As if the smug bastard didn’t know.  “Nothing wrong with a change.”

“Oh, sure.”

Ignoring him, Ryder’s gaze fastened on the pile of newspapers just outside the newsagency doors.  Every other shop was still shut in the early morning, but Dee’s would be open at six o’clock so the shift workers and other early risers could pick up their newspapers.

As they neared, she came out of the shop, stepping down onto the pavement.  Bending over, she slid her hand under the strap holding the pile of newspapers, wincing a little.

Obviously her palms were still a little tender.

“Dee!” he called.

Startled, she looked up.  A small smile played around her lips, laughter lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes in that enchanting way.  The woman had a sense of humour, no doubt about that, and normally he welcomed her smiles.  However, right now he had a bone to pick with her.

Right after he carted the newspapers inside for her.

Coming to a stop beside her, he took her wrists and turned her hands over to study her palms.  Yep, they looked sore but there was no sign of infection.

“Will I live, doctor?” Dee asked.

“Only if you’re lucky,” he retorted, letting her wrists go.

“I’m feeling pretty lucky.”  She directed her smile at Scott.  “’Morning.”

“’Morning, Dee.” Scott nodded.  “Heard you ate gravel yesterday.”

“Yep, but the doc here fixed me up so I guess I’ll survive.”  She winked.  “Have to, bills to pay, things to do.  You know.”

It was the ‘things’ that concerned Ryder.  “What things?”

“Just things.”  Bending down, she started to slide her hand beneath the straps on the newspaper pile.

Nudging her aside, he grabbed the pile of newspapers on each side and hefted them up.  “Don’t pick up anything with those hands.”

“Ryder, really-”

“I’m telling you, babe, they’re too sore, and besides, you never lift the bundles properly.”

“I’ve been lifting them for years.”

“And I’ve been telling you for years.”  He walked inside, depositing the newspapers where he knew Dee put them to sort out.

At the sounds of protest from outside, he knew Scott was lifting the other pile and bringing it in, and he turned to see he was correct.  Dee was trailing behind Scott complaining.

He’d give her something to complain about.

“Just do as you’re told,” Scott teased, pinching her cheek.

Half annoyed, half amused, she pushed his hand away.  Yep, Dee was an independent sheila, but she was the first to jump in and help anyone else who needed it.  When it came to herself, however, she’d struggle along without asking for assistance, one of the reasons he’d come around this morning.  Sore palms or not, Dee would have shifted the bundles.

Not happening on his watch.

As soon as she leaned one hip against the counter, Ryder strode up to her, braced one hand on the counter and the other on his hip, and he bent down to glare at her.  “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Her expression changed from pleasantness to wariness.  “Oh, do I just?”

Oh yeah, she knew what, it was written in the stiffening of her curvy body, not to mention the guardedness of her pretty face.

“You and Jason Dawson.”

“Me and Jason Dawson.”

“Last night.”

“Last night,” she echoed.  “What about last night?”

“Damn it, Dee, you walked off into the dark with a Dawson!”

“Actually, it was on the lit-up street.”

“And deserted.”

The smile that curved her lips wasn’t so pleasant.  “Privacy is good for certain…behaviours.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

Scott inhaled sharply, obviously the wrong way because he choked and coughed.

“Behaviours?”  Ryder smiled just as unpleasantly.  “I happen to know that you went into your flat alone.”

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

“I know so.”

“You know bugger all.”  She shrugged suddenly.  “Besides, it’s not your business.”

“Not my business?”  His eyes widened incredulously.  “Of course it’s my business.”

Dee looked at Scott.  “Is this bloke serious?”

He nodded.  “Sadly, yes.”

“Well, let me clue you in, dumb arse.”  She poked one forefinger against Ryder’s chest.

Man, she must be madder than she appeared because her prodding was a little harder than normal.  “Please do, I’m dying to hear your explanation.”

She glared at him for several seconds before leaning forward to hiss, “I don’t owe you any explanation, Ryder, just as you owe me none.”

“I have nothing to explain.”

“Right.”

“You, however, have a lot.”  He arched one eyebrow imperiously.  “It better be good.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I don’t believe this.”  She prodded him again.  “What I do is nothing to do with you.  If I choose to shag both Dawson brothers, I’ll do it.  If I choose to hang a red light above my back door at night, I’ll do it.  It’s not your business.”

If he didn’t know her better, just the thought of her doing anything she’d just said was enough for him to see red.  However, Dee had never been loose and easy with her sexual favours - thank God - so he wasn’t fazed.  “That’s not an explanation.”

“It’s all you’re going to bloody get.”  She shoved past him.

He whirled around, about to grab her arm until he saw the healing abrasions on it and snatched his hand back before it came into contact.

“What’s going on?” another voice queried.

Great, Kirk had arrived.  Standing in the doorway in his uniform, it was too early to be on his way to work, so he’d obviously been on night shift.

“You’re a cop.”  Dee pointed at Ryder.  “Arrest this idiot for being a jerk.”

“Don’t think you can just walk away-” Ryder began heatedly.

“Watch me.”  She strode through the aisle.  “Look, I’m walking away!”

“And she’s mad,” Scott added unhelpfully.

“At Ryder,” Kirk stated.

“Again.”

Ignoring them, Ryder started to follow Dee.  “Just hold up there, woman.”

You’re an arse.”

“Don’t make me chase you because I will, and you won’t like the consequences.”

Swinging around on her heel, she looked up at him.  Fire sparked in her eyes, a muscle ticked in her jaw.  “So what’re the consequences?  Go on, tell me.”

“Yeah,” Scott echoed.  “Tell us.  I mean her.”

“Shut your cake hole, numb nuts.”  Ryder switched his glare to Dee.  “Why were you out with Jason?”

“Why were you out with Yvonne?”

What the hell…?  “I wasn’t.  I was out with Rachel.”  And got nothing, thanks to this fiery blonde piece.

Dee looked away, sighed and looked back at him.  “Ryder, you shag any woman that takes your fancy.  You don’t have standards-”

“What?”

“Oh boy,” Scott said.

Insulted, Ryder folded his arms.  “You better explain just what you mean by that, because I have standards.”

“Fine,” Dee replied.  “You have a couple.  You date females only-”

“Because that’s the way I swing.”

“They have to be of legal age for sex-”

“Bloody oath.”

“And unattached to another man in any way, shape or form.”

“Good standards, like I said.”

“Ryder, those are your
only
standards.”

He couldn’t believe it.  “Are you shitting me?”

“Far from it.  It wasn’t that long ago you were shagging the town slut.”

“Who?”

“Don’t be a dimwit.  You know damned well who.”

“Yvonne?  I only dated her for a short time.”

“You still dated her.”

“Why does that worry you?”

“Jesus!”  Dee flung her arms into the air.  “You are such a dick!”

“He is,” Scott confirmed.

“Have to agree with you there,” Kirk said unexpectedly.

Ryder scowled over his shoulder.  “You two stay out of it.”

“Because you’re doing such a good job on your own,” Scott replied.  “You seriously need a babysitter.”

“Up yours.”  Ryder turned back to Dee.  “Look, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You are.  You date the town slut and any other woman who takes your fancy.  You’ve probably dated and shagged most of the single women in town!”

Heh heh, well when he thought about it…

“Some of those women were undesirable to say the least.”  Dee paused.  “And I don’t mean as in figures or features.”

“I don’t care about figures or features,” he retorted bluntly.

“You don’t say.”

“Look, will you just explain what’s going on in that noggin of yours?  Because damned if I can figure you out.”