They’d gone to a barbecue place not far from her cousin’s house. It had been the final time Sophia looked at him without suspicion, anger and distrust filling her expression. He’d told her the truth the next day, but he had no idea if she’d told her family about his occupation.
Unfortunately, Sophia didn’t seem the least bit inclined to jump in and save him. She was focused on her own burger, sans any toppings, a preference he remembered from a hot dog she’d ordered at a Cardinals game. Almost embarrassed, she’d confessed, “What can I say? I have boring tastes.”
Jake hadn’t found anything at all boring about Sophia Pirelli, and he’d declared her a hot dog purist. Laughing in response, she’d comically piled every condiment known to man on the hot dog he’d purchased while he made a big deal about covering hers with a napkin to maintain its pristine, natural state …
“Um, Jake,” Sophia finally prompted. “My dad was asking about your job.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Jake swallowed the last of the huge bite he’d taken. “My mother would be appalled by my manners.”
“Mom’s always appalled by our manners,” Sam interjected, clearly unconcerned as he grabbed a cherry tomato from the salad bowl and popped it into his mouth.
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“Anyway,” Jake began after he’d stalled as long as he could and hoping he’d picked up correctly on the slight disapproval in Sophia’s voice when she mentioned his job. “I’m a private investigator.”
“Seriously? That must be so cool,” Sam declared.
“Yes, Jake, tell Sam how cool your job is,” Sophia said, a challenging lift to her eyebrows.
He was still scrambling for something to say that would appease her brothers’ curiosity without further alienating Sophia when Vince asked his daughter, “Why is now the first we’re hearing of this? Sophia, why didn’t you tell us what Jake does for a living? For all we knew, he could have been an accountant.”
Sophia picked at the sesame seeds on her hamburger bun and complained, “What’s wrong with being an accountant?”
“Other than being totally boring?” Sam asked before turning back to Jake. “What was your most interesting case?”
Jake didn’t have to even think about it. “That would have to be the case that took me to St. Louis.”
Sophia’s head snapped toward him, her dark gaze pleading, as if she expected him to blurt out the whole story to her family right there at the dinner table. Any why not? he thought with regret. That was pretty much what he’d done to her …
Sam leaned forward. “What happened in St. Louis?”
Reaching out, Jake lifted Sophia’s hand from the picnic table and entwined her fingers with his own. “That’s where I met your sister,” he murmured.
The worry eased from her expression, and was it his imagination or had her eyes softened just a little? Despite the elbow-to-elbow contact at the table, her family seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them and the spark that had ignited between them the moment they met, an attraction that made it easy for Sophia to trust him, an attraction that made it so easy for Jake to lie to her.
He didn’t know which of them flinched first, but the break in contact as Sophia’s hand fell to her side made Jake feel like some vital part of him had been ripped away, leaving behind only scars as reminders of all he’d lost. Because of his lies and because of the truth he’d been asked to find.
Dammit, Sophia, I’m sorry, he thought, staring at her downcast profile as if he might will her into accepting his apology. Sorry I’m not the man you thought I was.
He did his best to deflect the rest of her family’s questions about his job and thought he’d just about turned the tide when Maddie’s young voice piped in.
“Have you ever been shot?”
The little girl had been tossing bits of her bun at a couple of birds, and Jake hadn’t thought she’d been listening to the conversation. When all adult eyes focused on her, she added, “You know, like on TV.”
Instinctively, his hand moved to his left thigh. Sometimes he swore he could still feel the bullet burning beneath his flesh even though he knew that was impossible…. A soft intake of breath beside him caught his attention. Sophia straightened in realization, and he could almost hear yet another mark checked off against him for yet another lie.
He was spared from having to satisfy Maddie’s childish curiosity when Vanessa turned on her eldest son. “Honestly, Nick, what have you been letting this child watch?”
“I didn’t let her. I didn’t know she was paying any attention,” Nick protested.
Thinking it was a good time to turn the conversation away from himself while he still could, Jake asked, “What about you, Vince? What do you do?”
For the first time since he met the Pirelli family, silence fell.
Sophia might not think much of Jake’s job, but up until recently, he’d been good at it. And he could still pick up on body language and small nuances most people missed. Like the encouraging smile Vanessa sent her husband’s way. Like the look Sam and Drew exchanged, and Nick’s brief but pointed glance at Sophia, who kept her own eyes focused on her plate. Only Maddie was immune, singing beneath her breath and turning her attention back to her gathering flock.
Vince’s smile was wide as ever, but something less than genuine as he said, “Used to manage the grocery store in town, but now I’m retired. I get to be a full-time husband and father, much to my wife and kids’ dismay.”
Vanessa and his sons immediately protested, but Sophia stayed stone silent at Jake’s side until she stood abruptly and practically scrambled over the picnic bench. She grabbed her glass of lemonade. “I need a refill. I’ll be right back. Can I get anyone anything from the kitchen?” She barely waited for her family to reply before backing away from the table.
Jake stood before she made her escape. “I’ll join you.”
She opened her mouth to demur, but he shot a quick glance at her family and the protest she would have made transformed into a smile. “Thank you, Jake.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, wondering if he was the only one to notice how she spoke the words through gritted teeth.
He caught her hand as they crossed the lush green lawn toward the kitchen, but it was Sophia who practically dragged him the last few yards into the house. She whirled on him the moment the door closed, secluding them in the homey kitchen.
Her color was high and her dark eyes snapping as she bit out, “Football injury?”
“What?”
“The night we met, you said you were limping because of a football injury!”
Of all the explanations he owed Sophia, that was by far the last he’d expected her to demand. He’d passed off his injury with the half-joking cliché rather than tell the truth. But the worry shining through her anger was far worse than facing the memories of the job that had gone wrong in Mexico only a few weeks before he met Sophia.
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I was fine. I am,” he insisted, wondering if he wasn’t trying to convince himself. Physically, yes, he was healing. But how many times had he awakened in a cold sweat, grabbing at his leg, feeling the pain of the bullet buried deep inside? He thought he’d put those nightmares to rest, but they’d come back with a vengeance since he left St. Louis. Since he’d left Sophia.
She stared up at him as if trying to see right through him and straight into all the uncertainty inside. But he’d gotten good over the years at hiding; it was part of his job, sure, but more than that, it was part of who he was. And