Say You Still Love Me(90)

“No. Well, that’s not true. I went to visit Rhett in Thailand the summer after I graduated high school and he almost had me convinced to defer college for a year and teach English. He had a house right on the beach. I woke up every morning to the sound of the ocean.” I groan at the memory. “It was incredible.”

“Why didn’t you do it, then?”

“Oh, my dad would have murdered me. Like legit flown out to Thailand and tied a noose around my neck. Then he would have killed Rhett.” I sigh. “But sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I done it.”

Kyle doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You still need your father’s approval, don’t you?”

I frown, his words coming off sounding like a slight. “I don’t need it. But I want it because . . . he’s my dad.”

Kyle nods, his gaze on the sidewalk ahead. “I guess I don’t know what that feels like.”

Silence hangs between us as we approach my street. “We turn right up here.”

“Wow,” Kyle takes in the one-way cobblestoned street ahead, bordered by wide paved sidewalks and a canopy of oak trees—all part of the old-world design of Posey Park. The newly built four-story row houses with decorative detailing and steep stone stairways mirror one another on either side—a nod to the famous brownstones of Manhattan. Even with the busy street to the south of us, the tall buildings and narrow corridor provide quiet cover.

“I remember the first time I saw the design for this project. I was in love.”

Kyle’s eyebrows arch. “You guys built this, too?”

“Calloway Group, yeah. These houses and those two buildings.” I point to the luxury condo buildings that tower over us up ahead, designed to complement one another and the row houses but to also stand out on their own. “We were going for eighteen-hundreds European charm within an urban center.”

“I don’t know eighteen-hundreds anything, but I’d say you nailed it,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch one of the replica gaslight-lantern lampposts that run the entire length of the street, adorned by planters bursting with vibrant red geraniums and petunias. Ornate park benches are interspersed evenly. In the wintertime, it’s all dressed up in white lights and red bows. “Is there anything your father hasn’t had a hand in around here?” he asks, and I could be mistaken, but I sense a touch of resentment in his voice.

“Honestly? Not much. Not in this city, anyway. And once the Waterway project is realized, he’s going to own the downtown skyline.” The massive project, with two condominium towers overlooking the water, flanked by a river boardwalk and surrounded by several square blocks of retail shops and restaurants, is expected to become the new downtown “it” spot for shopping and nightlife.

Kyle opens his mouth to say something, but he seems to decide against it. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about that Tripp guy yet?”

I groan. “I don’t know. I can’t just come out and accuse him and, no offense, but my father’s not going to take your word for it. But I have my assistant, Mark, digging up information. So far I know they went to college together, and they’ve played golf together. A lot.”

“Does he use a company phone?”

“His cell? Yeah.”

“You should be able to pull the records for it, then. See how often he’s been talking to this guy. I can tell you exactly when I overheard them, so you can pinpoint the number. Also, see if they can pull the records for any deleted texts. He’s arrogant enough to use his company phone for shit like that.”

“Can they do that?”

“They should be able to. Upwards of a year, possibly. And it’s your company phone that he’s using. I’m sure you can talk your way into getting hold of the records.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will. Thanks for the suggestion.” I throw a casual hand at the stately building entrance ahead. “This is me.”

Kyle’s head tips back as his eyes draw upward, showing off the sharp jutting curve of his neck and that long, slender nose that I used to drag my finger along. “You at the top?”

I can’t peel my eyes from his profile. “Yeah.”

Those lips that I’ve kissed a thousand times—what feels like a thousand years ago now—curl in a soft smile. “Figured as much.”

“When did you take it out? Your lip ring?”

“When I started working for Rikell.” His eyes remain on my building for another long moment before lowering to settle on me. “They don’t allow piercings or ink on your face. So far they haven’t said anything about my sleeve.”

“Too bad. I always liked it.” My fingers itch to touch the small scar in the corner of his mouth.

His chest rises with a deep inhale, and I’m hyperaware of just how close we’re standing. “Please don’t look at me like that, Piper.”

“How am I looking at you?”

He chuckles. “You never were any good at playing dumb. That’s one of the things I always loved about you.”

My stomach tightens with anticipation. “Come up to my place?” I hold my breath, slipping my fingers through his.

He squeezes my hand once before releasing it. “I think that’s a bad idea.” His voice is hoarse.