her body, if the tension curling low in her belly was any indication.
“Aish? You okay?”
“Sure. Fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“It’s the margarita. It’s strong tonight and I didn’t get lunch due to my surprise visitors.”
The diversion had its desired impact, his curiosity over her flushed skin taking a back seat to the press intrusion. “I really am sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. It’s over and I lived to tell the tale.” She reached for her margarita again and took a tentative sip. “Which is more than I can say for the reporters who were chased off with their tails between their legs.”
“You looked positively maniacal when you said that.”
“I feel that way. Their presence disrupted my patients. The people who come to me in their quiet moments of need don’t deserve that.”
“No, they don’t.” Trey agreed.
And there it was, Aisha thought. They might feel the same way about the situation—even be angry about it—but they’d battle it together. “I told. Now it’s your turn. What happened this morning?”
“I don’t appreciate being caught off guard and it was a one hundred percent sneak attack.”
She nodded as she lifted a small fingertip of salt from the rim of her margarita. “It sounded like it from your texts.”
“It wasn’t his presence so much as what he said.”
Aisha wanted to be supportive but the unexpected ambush was one more example of all the ways Trey’s case had gotten out of hand. Did the governor think Trey was hiding something? Or worse, was he convinced the pressure of an in-person visit—from a subordinate, no less—would light a fire under one of the best sheriffs in all the state?
Because if there was ever anyone who had self-motivation down to a T, it was Trey Colton. The man lived and breathed his job and to have a stand-in for the governor just show up... It was insulting.
“You’re getting all flushed again.”
“This time I’m mad.”
“What were you before?”
Caught, Aisha wanted to say. But she bit her tongue at the last minute and pointed toward her drink. “Adjusting to the tequila.”
“Oh.”
He lifted a lone eyebrow at her, wiggling it before picking up his beer again. “We got off on a weird foot tonight.”
“You think?”
“I know. So let’s try again.” He put down his beer. “Aisha. How was your day?”
“Crummy. Yours?”
“The worst,” he said.
“Anything I can do to help?”
She might have left her poker face about three blocks away, but Trey’s wasn’t very visible, either. That same shell-shocked expression she’d seen off and on since he’d picked her up flashed once more, and for the first time Aisha began to worry.
What had happened earlier? Did the governor have information on the killer? Something known only to him?
“Trey. Come on, enough of this. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I think maybe we should get married.”
* * *
As proposals went, it was clumsy and stupid and just all-around bad. He wasn’t the smoothest guy on the planet, but he usually had more common sense than blurting out whatever was lodged in his head, drilling at his brain matter like a jackhammer.
The only problem was, he’d thought of little else since the governor’s lackey left his office. The gym hadn’t helped. Three hours of paperwork hadn’t helped. And a jaunt swiping left through his online dating app hadn’t helped, either.
All he could think about was asking Aisha to be his fiancée. Or his pretend fiancée, if there actually were such a thing.
Was there?
He knew things like that existed in wacky sex comedies and rom coms, but he had yet to meet anyone in real life who’d felt compelled to enter into a fake engagement to solve a problem. You didn’t solve problems by getting married. Or pretending to get married. Or asking someone to pretend to get married.
Only he did.
Or he would if Aisha said yes.
Having his best friend on his arm would solve a ton of problems and would at least smooth out one area of his life for the next few months. Because he was doing a piss-poor job of managing Barton Evigan’s full-on attack, finding a serial killer and identifying four dead women discovered in his county. The last two were going to take as long as they’d bloody well take, but the first...
Steve had given him an answer to that one.
“What did you just say?”
“I need you to marry me.” Even as mixed up as his day was, Trey knew that wasn’t quite the proper framing. “Hold on. Let me start again.”
When she didn’t say a word, only continued to stare at him across the table, Trey figured he’d better do some tap dancing. Fast.
“The governor’s assistant made several good observations today. One of which was that I had an extra vulnerability to Evigan because I wasn’t a married man.”
“Our governor actually has people on his staff who go around giving out advice like this?” she asked, before adding. “Presumably well-paid people.”
“Apparently so.”
“And somewhere between this morning’s meeting and a round of enchiladas you thought it was a good idea?”
“It’s not a bad one.”
“Trey!” she scolded. “These are our lives we’re talking about. Not some dopey play.”
“I know.”
“So what has you convinced this is even worth discussing?”
“I need something, Aish. Something to get this problem with Evigan to go away. And I’ve thought about it. We don’t have to be truly engaged. We’d just tell people we are. We’ve known each other forever. Hell, we know more about each other than most people who are actually married do.”
The curious flush he’d seen earlier on her face had faded, replaced with something that looked a lot like anger. Or no, he amended. Disappointment.
Did she think he was a coward, afraid of running against Evigan on his own merits?
Whatever
