Yve’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Damn. I’m sorry, girl. That sucks. You better believe if he shows up here, I’ll run his ass out.”

“Thanks. You mind if I leave a little early today? I have a feeling he’s going to be coming by.” I hated to ask, especially because I needed the money now more than ever, and I’d been leaving early way too often already.

“Do what you need to do. You need some help tomorrow getting your pup home?”

I shook my head, a new plan already forming. I would skip Harriet’s Mercedes and get Con to help me. He had a beat up Tahoe that he drove when he wasn’t on his Harley. And he wouldn’t let Simon get near me if I didn’t want him to. Con wasn’t the type to say ‘I told you so,’ but I still wasn’t looking forward to telling him I’d learned my lesson the hard way despite his warnings. I felt so … stupid. Which was just one more strike against Simon.

I ducked out of the Dirty Dog before closing and went straight to Voodoo. I didn’t want to run the risk that Simon would stop by the parlor before I had a chance to tell Con that I was unavailable if Simon Duchesne was doing the asking.

Con wasn’t in yet, so I took the opportunity to call Jack Richelieu’s cell number from the shop phone.

When Jack answered, I explained that since I was so excited to come get Huck—which was no exaggeration—I was hoping we could do it earlier on Sunday morning than we’d planned. He agreed without question, clearly assuming that ‘we’ meant Simon and me. I hoped his assumption would stop him from calling Simon to confirm. I would owe Con an even bigger favor for getting his ass out of bed at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning, but hopefully it would be worth it.

When Con finally showed his face, he looked like he’d partied until noon and still hadn’t slept at all. Our conversation went much the way I expected: he was happy to help me out and told me I owed him one. Then he sent me home, telling me to lay low tonight. Between disconnecting my intercom and keeping my phone off, I had no idea if Simon tried to contact me or not. I told myself I didn’t care.

I was all nerves when Sunday morning dawned, and Con rolled up in his Tahoe.

“Thanks for this,” I said as I climbed in the passenger side.

He nodded. “No problem. You know I’m always here if you need something, Lee. No matter what.”

His loyalty was more than I deserved.

We rode in silence to the clinic, The Steve Miller Band jamming on the stereo.

My stomach dropped to the floor mat at the sight of Simon’s blue BMW in the parking lot. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Con backed into a spot next to the door, the same way Simon had parked. At my panicked expression, Con reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe. He won’t cause a scene. Wouldn’t be proper Duchesne behavior.”

Simon shoved open the clinic door as soon as I stepped down from the Tahoe, and proved Con’s theory wrong.

“What the hell is going on, Charlie? I tried to get in touch with you all day yesterday, and you were a goddamn ghost. I get stonewalled by Yve, Delilah, and this jackass.” He jerked his chin toward Con. “Is there something you want to tell me? Because I thought we were past this hot and cold bullshit.”

Con stepped in front of me. “Back off, Duchesne. And don’t you fucking talk to her like that.”

Simon halted in his stride toward me. “You back off, Leahy. This has nothing to do with you.”

“I disagree.” They squared off, and for a minute I thought they were going to start brawling in the parking lot.

I inched around Con and looked at Simon. He broke Con’s stare to look at me. Anger, confusion, and hurt were reflected in equal measure on his face.

Seriously? Did he really have no idea why I might not want to see him? Did he think I was stupid? That I wouldn’t find out? Or worse, that I wouldn’t care? I had to know.

I pulled the folded newsprint from my bag. I’d continued to carry it with me just in case I was tempted to forget. “How’s this for hot and cold bullshit?” I held it out, and our hands brushed as he took it. I jerked mine back like I’d been burned. Simon unfolded the paper, and his eyes darted back up to my face. Understanding dawned.

“Charlie, it’s not what it looks like.” He stepped toward me, but Con blocked him with an outstretched arm and a fierce glare.

I held up a hand and choked out a bitter laugh. “You, the politician, telling your dirty little secret, ‘it’s not what it looks like,’ might be the most clichéd thing I’ve ever heard. Is that what you were going to tell the blonde when she caught you with me?” I swallowed, trying to compose myself. “Just go, Simon. I don’t screw around with guys who are taken.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Don’t you dare call yourself a dirty little secret. I’m not fucking taken by anyone but you. She’s a friend. That’s it. That’s all.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Did you or did you not attend a charity gala with her after you dropped me off at work?”

His lips compressed. “Yes. I did.”

“Then this conversation is over.” I turned away.

“I never lied to you.” Simon’s tone was resolute. I snapped back around to stare at him.

“No, you just gave me selected pieces of the truth. An omission is still a lie, Simon.” I should know, I thought; omissions are my specialty. But if, and when, the truth came out about me, I wasn’t going to split hairs over it. I’d own up to that shit.

“Just hear me out. Please.”

“What could you possibly say that would change anything?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, but her dad backs off when she goes to events with me. As long as he thinks she has a chance at being Mrs. Duchesne, he doesn’t hound her about finding a suitable husband. I let people believe it because she’s an old friend, and it’s my way of helping her out.”

I raised one eyebrow, skepticism branded on my features. “Look,” he continued, “there’s nothing between us like that. I can’t say for certain, but I’m pretty damn sure she’s hung up on a guy she thinks her dad won’t approve of. He’s old school and a control freak, and being seen with me just buys her time while she figures out her own shit and keeps her dad off her back.”