eyes might right now be spying on her, though.
He gave her a pointed look. Okay, she was staring. Wilder was a sight to behold, but she’d given up on men for good after Jeffrey. Men in her life abused and manipulated, all the way back to her father, who was rotting in a New Orleans prison this very moment. Right where he belonged. The thought brought her back to the card, and her stomach knotted.
“What’s going on with you?” Wilder asked, his usual charm replaced with concern. Great. She thought she’d done a better job hiding it.
“Nothing,” she managed.
“Look at me.” Wilder waited and she inhaled, then slowly shifted her gaze to his emerald greens canopied by dark lashes. He peered into her eyes until she squirmed in her seat. It felt like a year passed with him just staring at her, searching for truth, assessing. “You’re lying to me,” he murmured.
She didn’t want to. “I’m not.” He was going to push until she squealed. That was his way, which wasn’t fair. Wilder was sealed tighter than his weapons’ cage at CCM. He would never take the hourly couch sessions she required from all team members. Never talked about his sister Meghan’s murder—and it had been several years since she’d been killed by a stalker. Cosette felt the blood drain from her face in a whoosh.
“Yes, you are, Cosette. You’re looking me right in the eye and lying your face off.” His inhalation was sharp and he pushed back in his chair. “But I guess we’re all entitled to secrets. I just don’t like ones that bleach your face and make you fidgety and paranoid.”
She didn’t like keeping secrets from Wilder, but she would have to admit she’d originally accepted the job to hide. From a stalker! Admit she’d failed professionally...and personally. “I, um...I got an invitation to my fifteenth high school reunion.” One truth she could reveal.
How did Jeffrey know her PO box number? She never used her physical address.
“Really? That’s what’s got your pants in a wrinkle?” The black-as-night scruff that covered Wilder’s chin, cheeks and neck hid a face that was too boyish to be thirty-three, but it didn’t hide the fact he wasn’t buying her weak excuse.
No, that wasn’t what had her in a mood; she wasn’t going. While Jeffrey had been the most humiliating “relationship” of her life, since she ought to have seen the signs—she was a behavioral expert!—it wasn’t her only disastrous or toxic romance. With an abusive father came all the baggage. And as a teenage girl, she’d wanted approval, acceptance and love. She’d been like a starving dog, happy to eat scraps. It had led to many rotten boys. She would no more step foot at that reunion, where people knew her indiscretions, her poor family history, than—
“Are you going?” Wilder was holding her postcard-style invitation in his hand, pointing to the Plus-One. “It’s this weekend.”
She always visited Mama’s grave on Mother’s Day. That was next Sunday. But Jeffrey had left something there for her and he’d be expecting her to come retrieve it—or he might be baiting her. If she used the reunion as a cover, she could go early and still pay Mama her respects, as well as change the flowers on her grave.
“If I can have the weekend, including Friday, off.” Working in the security industry meant her weekends were often tied up on the job.
“You want both weekends off?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No, I’ll just visit my mama’s grave this Sunday.”
Wilder’s lips corkscrewed and his eyes narrowed. “What’s the real deal with you, Cosette?” He folded his arms and pinned her with a glare. This man!
“Nothing. I just... I need this weekend.”
“And a Plus-One.” He held up the invitation again and pointed to it.
She groaned. “I don’t need a man.”
Men were nothing but trouble. Possessive. Demanding.
A lopsided grin spread. “Well, what about a chicory coffee? Because I need that cascara latte.”
She wasn’t immune to Wilder’s ways. His charm was like a weapon he wielded with ease and perfection, always hitting his intended target. But she was wise to it and right now, he wanted her to relax so she’d spill the truth. Also, he did want her latte. That much she would give in to.
She slid him the coffee. “I have lipstick marks on it.”
“Red.” He didn’t bother to wipe the stains away before he sipped the drink. “My favorite.” The way he said it—the action itself—did strange things to her belly. No. Way. Wilder was a gorgeous man, honest and caring, but there were too many reasons she refused to entertain romantic ideas about him. He had a few traits that kept her at bay, like his obsessive tendencies and his need to control, plus he was her boss, and if that wasn’t enough, he was emotionally unavailable. Besides, she wasn’t going to be another man’s possession ever again. “When do we leave Friday?” he asked.
“There is no ‘we’—only me.” The last thing she needed was Wilder forcing her to attend the reunion and discovering what a needy, clingy and starved-for-love girl Cosette had been—might still be. “And if you’re going to drink my latte, the least you can do is go order my chicory coffee.” She shooed him away with her hand. She needed air. A minute to think without him hovering.
His massive frame lifted from the chair and he swaggered to the counter, his trendy jeans fitting snugly and his white dress shirt stretching across his back.
Should she even go to New Orleans at all? She didn’t care that Jeffrey had left her something at the grave—no, she did. It angered her that he would infringe on her private place where she honored her mother. He’d desecrated it. And he wasn’t going to keep her from going to Mama like she did every year.
“Here’s your coffee with chicory, Miss LaCroix.” Amy grinned and set it on the table. “Mr. Flynn had a phone call. Said to deliver it to you in person because...” her cheeks turned pink “...you were too lazy to walk to the counter and get it yourself. I think he was teasing, though.”
Cosette rolled her eyes and darted one last peek out the window, trying not to shiver again. “Thanks, Amy. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Cosette?” Amy had been dating their computer analyst for almost five months. By now, they should be on a first name basis. She motioned to Wilder’s empty chair. “Have a seat if you have a sec.” She could use a distraction from the card, from the feeling of eyes on her, from Wilder.
Amy sat across from her, a dreamy grin on her face.
“Thinking of Wheezer?” Cosette asked. She knew that lovesick look.
“We’re going ice-skating tonight at the indoor rink.”
Wheezer didn’t seem like the skating type. It was nice to see Amy bringing him out of his shell and the control room at CCM. He lived on computers and was a cyber genius. The things he could do with a computer were scary.
“That sounds fun. You ready to be done with school for the summer? Any big plans?”
Amy shook her head. “I’m spending it with my mom.”
“That’s great.” Cosette’s
