Deconstructed(61)

Hadn’t gone over well with the big guy, but according to Ruby, he didn’t have to like it. He just had to do it. And Griffin had agreed to accompany me as my cover.

My “date” set the keys on the counter and looked at me before glancing away. Then he looked at me again.

He hadn’t recognized me.

Good sign.

“Thanks for going with me, Mr. Moon. At least you get a free meal out of it,” I said, moving to brush the shaggy bangs of my wig back and finding nothing to brush. Ruby had put the false eyelashes on me, and I kept thinking the thick butterflies batting at my eyes were my bangs.

“I can buy my own meals.”

Well, whatcha gonna say to that?

“Don’t be a grump. You owe me,” Ruby said, picking up the lipstick and dabbing at my lips with it. “There.”

“Owe you for what? I bought you a new alternator. And I towed y’all that night. I think I’ve paid whatever I owed you back tenfold—”

“I paid you for the tow,” I interrupted.

“Griff,” Ruby huffed, studying my eyes. She grabbed her makeup palette and swiped a bit more shimmery something beneath the arch of my brow. “Zip it. If you want to be an asshole your whole life, fine. But do it tomorrow. Or in three hours. For now, you’re going to be a good guy and look out for Cricket.”

“All for a harebrained scheme. You two are—”

Ruby shot him a look that should have sent him staggering backward and sinking to the floor in a death spiral. Instead Griffin just closed his mouth.

From what I could see from beneath the curtains glued to my eyelids, Griffin wore clean jeans, a pressed button-down shirt, and buffed boots; his hair looked damp, and his scruffy beard was neatly trimmed. Probably his date-night or church clothes, which made me feel sort of special, though I probably shouldn’t have. Wasn’t like I was the least bit interested in Griffin Moon. For all intents and purposes, I was still married and thus faithful to my cheating husband.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said, waving Ruby away from her last-minute fussing. The clock on the wall said it was half past noon, which meant in order to make Scott’s meeting at the bar and grill outside Bossier City, we needed to get going. “Just taking a few discreet pictures. That’s it.”

Griffin grunted, which I took as acceptance.

“We need to leave.” I stood and tugged the shirt down because it had a tendency to ride up. The thing clung to me like a kid in the deep end of a pool, and my girls were prominently on display, which wasn’t wholly desirable considering I was trying to be incognito.

Griffin noted my rack in the clingy shirt. I shot him a warning glare, and he jerked his gaze up to my face. His cheeks may have even pinked a little, bless him. And look, I won’t say that I didn’t get a little trill of pleasure at this good-looking grump of a man noticing that I looked decent in a tight shirt and jeans. I did. But I didn’t need to be ogled. I was on a mission.

“Maybe I better grab a jacket,” I said, looking down at my chest.

Ruby looked me over. “Yeah, in that getup you might get too many looks.”

Griffin opened the door as I grabbed my sweater. “You’re not putting on that mawmaw sweater with that, are you?”

“Good point,” Ruby said, jogging out of the kitchen and coming right back with her olive-green bomber jacket. “Try this.”

The jacket fit snugly but covered all my bits. I ignored the comment about the mawmaw sweater—I liked that sweater—and pulled my wallet out of my purse, slid my credit card into my back pocket, and picked up my just-charged phone. I hadn’t even checked my reflection, but I was certain that I looked enough like someone else that a distracted Scott wouldn’t notice me. I shoved my biggest framed sunglasses on and turned to Griffin. “Well, do I look like Maddie Holt?”

He stared at me for a good two minutes. “Who’s Maddie Holt?”

“She’s your date, big boy.” I turned to Ruby and said, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, crazy lady,” Ruby said, holding out her fist while trying to suppress a smile.

I bumped it and then slid past Griffin into the sunlight. A blip of doubt gave me a mental stumble. Maybe this was stupid. I had no business disguising myself and trying to get proof of Scott’s adultery. But what recourse did I have? I had hired two professionals who had failed to get what I needed. An appointment with Jacqueline in two days meant I needed to have the proof—she had the papers ready for me to sign, and the filing would declare adultery. So I needed Juke to present my photos to my attorney. He owed me that much. This would work. It had to.

Griffin gestured to Ruby’s car. “We better take Ruby’s car. Unless you want to take the tow truck?”

“Ruby said to take hers. I’ll fill her tank as a thank-you.”

He nodded and then did something that would have normally knocked my socks off if I were wearing any—he opened the car door for me like a gentleman. Like a date. Like he thought I was worthy of such a gesture.

I slid inside Ruby’s sun-warmed car and buckled up. The interior smelled like Bath & Body Works had made a baby with french fries, and that was something I could get behind. A hula girl danced on the dash of the older car. Griffin climbed in, and I literally had to shift to the right to give him room. His shoulder brushed mine, which was somewhat reassuring rather than invasive. Nerves had grabbed hold of my stomach, making me jittery. “Thank you for coming with me.”