Page 59 of Once Upon a Lie

“Oh, you should definitely be bragging about this one.” He takes another big bite. “Now I understand why there’s always a line outside your door.” He licks a bit of cream cheese off his thumb, and I suddenly forget how to breathe.

Goodness, why is that so sexy?

I honestly didn’t think it was possible for a man’s mouth to look so good. But Shane Maddox’s mouth looks like the Lord and Savior of bagels needs to repent.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his seat and looking over at me with a soft smile. “How’s the slumber party at Alfred’s going?”

“Alfred’s?” I blink a few times, my brain taking a hot minute to catch up with his words. “Oh, right. Yeah.” I clear my throat. “He’s been very accommodating. I’m staying in his guest room, and his little dog, Pip, cuddled up to me last night.”

“So, you’re good, then?” he asks. “Well, at least until your condo is livable again.”

“Oh yeah,” I say and wave a hand in the air. “Alfred’s the best. He even left out a night-light and a handwritten note on how to work his fancy guest room shower and stocked his pantry and fridge with all my favorites.”

Shane chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds nice. Does he have another room?”

I guffaw. “Nope, sorry, just the one. I like to be the only princess in his parish. If I didn’t like my condo so much, I’d probably never leave.”

Shane laughs, and we both dive into our bagels like we’re starved, creating a kind of quiet that’s easy instead of awkward.

“Rita’s already got contractors in my place,” I update him after a moment, choking down a bite that’s way bigger than I intended. “The damage isn’t as bad as they thought. Just the doors, the railing, some flooring. They said a week, maybe two.”

“Oh, I’ve heard the hammering,” he says with a smirk.

“Oh no.” I frown, but he wards off my blip of discomfort with a big smile and a shake of his head.

“I welcome the noise, Teeny. The more those assholes work on fixing what they broke, the quicker you’ll be back to living close.” He pauses, just long enough to snatch my gaze and hold it. “I really like it when you’re close.”

I know it sounds dramatized, but I swear I feel myself swoon. I smile into my coffee. “You’re so dramatic.”

“What can I say? I’m a very fragile man without my Rita-stress support buddy, Teeny.”

Fragile? He’s the antithesis of fragile—strong, manly, emotionally mature, and frighteningly considerate. The only thing fragile is the hold I have on myself in my effort not to tumble straight into trust and love and obsession with a man I don’t really know.

I don’t know why he was a cop and isn’t anymore or his upbringing or how he feels about monogamy or family or money or any of the values that make or break a relationship.

What I do know is how he makes me feel—and that my instincts about people’s character have rarely steered me wrong.

So far, everything Shane has shown me is good. I don’t want to be so jaded by shadows of my childhood I start making up reasons not to trust it.

He takes another bite of his bagel. “So, Alfred. Sunnie and Cher. Your family. You’ve got a full crew here in Nashville, huh?”

“Sort of.” I shrug. “My mom and dad live out in Bellevue. My brother, Nico, moved back to Nashville about two years ago to work for Dad’s company, Cordone Freight.”

He nods. “That’s that big shipping company, right? I see their trucks on the road all the time.”

“Yep. Big trucks, logistics, all that. They haul everything from furniture to cereal. My dad started the company years ago, and really, it’s his pride and joy.” I shrug. “He calls it the backbone of America, and you know what? I guess that makes me proud too.”

I am proud. Of my dad for building us this new life, and of myself, for having the courage to make my own.

“Family businesses built from the ground up are a very cool thing. You didn’t want to work there with your dad and your brother? Carry on the legacy?”

I snort. “Please. I can barely stand dinner with the men in my family, God love them. Working together every day for the rest of my life? No thanks. I’ll stick with bagels.”

“Seems like you’re doing mighty fine to me.” Shane smiles. “I’ve yet to walk past this shop without a line of customers down the sidewalk.” He nods toward his plate. “Not to mention, your bagels and cream cheese are the best things that have ever graced my taste buds.”

I flourish under the compliments. The truth is, I’ve put everything I am into making The Hole Story the success it is today, down to dreaming about cream cheese recipes until I wake up in a cold sweat. Praising my business is better than telling me I’m beautiful or hot or sexy or any of the other things men use to flirt.

For the first time in years, I’m letting myself imagine more—life, love, and a man who fits into both. And I even find myself wanting to make the time.