The One Who Loves You (Tickled Pink #1)(24)

Next she’ll be basing her self-worth on unachievable goals and unrealistic expectations set by people who are more adept at looking fabulous and put together than they’re good at doing what actually matters.

Not to mention the stress that’ll come if the paparazzi start poking their heads around here to watch the Lightly Train Wreck Show.

But sparring with Phoebe the past two days has been fun. Unexpectedly fun.

Not saying I’ll miss her when I chase her and her family the hell out of my town, but I won’t argue with taking the joy where I can while my life is temporarily disrupted.

Finding there’s more to Phoebe Lightly than I thought there was?

It’s a weird kind of joy. Like discovering that rock you’ve had in your shoe all day is actually your kid’s lost favorite bead.

Sucks, but it’s not as bad as it could be.

Phoebe could be completely intolerable instead of just mostly intolerable.

“You ever sleep under the stars?” I ask her.

“I fell asleep on the beach in the Hamptons once.”

Of course.

She sighs again. “But security woke me up and made me go inside, so no, I have never slept under the stars a full night. And why would it even matter? You can’t see the stars when you’re sleeping. Your eyes are closed.”

I peer through the trees again at the dark night sky dotted with billions of diamonds, then glance at my companion, who’s either not looking or completely unimpressed.

Her loss.

She sighs once more, and I swear I can see her sinking deeper into the padded deck chair. One leg flops to the side. Her breath gets deeper.

It’s like she’s not sighing but slipping into a reluctant slumber.

And then she talks. Again. Is she physically incapable of turning herself off? “What sort of deal would I have to make with you to get the community Wi-Fi password so that I can make sure nothing’s burning down back at work?”

“Depends. You asking for you, because you want to feel important, or are you asking because you left an actual problem without anyone trained to handle it while you’re gone, and real people are in danger if you don’t do something?”

She flops her head to the side so that her face is aimed in my direction. “Do you know what I like about you, Teague? I like that you think to ask that question. It’s not about what my grandmother has ordered everyone else in the town to do. It’s about the best outcome for all involved.”

“Everyone else turned you down and I’m your last option, hm?”

“But no one else asked if there was an actual emergency. You’re a very good person, Teague Miller. And I appreciate that.”

I stifle a grin. She’s good at this game, I’ll give her that. “Know what happened to the last person who showered me with false flattery?”

“It is not false flattery. If I were lying, I’d tell you that you could be our next model for Remington Lightly’s beard oil. Our Kangapoo-brand body-care line is expanding. Shh. Top secret. Also? If I’d been in charge when they launched Kangapoo, it would’ve been called something entirely different. I will never understand the people who buy a name like that, but enough of them do that management refuses to consider changing it, despite my best efforts. First thing I’m changing when I’m running the company.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be having family game night somewhere? Murdering one of your siblings over their refusal to give change in ones when you owe them rent in Monopoly?”

“Gigi’s having a private meeting with my father, so the rest of us were dismissed. The Monopoly massacre has been postponed for another night. What do you mean, ‘refusing to give change in ones’? Is that a thing? Does it help you win? If I had access to Wi-Fi, I could learn the rules and help my brother or sister utilize the loopholes to their best advantage so they could win instead of me.”

“You realize it does no good to work hard to earn good-person points all day if you’re going to lie about why you want internet access the minute your grandmother turns her back.”

“My ex-boyfriend was attempting to blackmail me the last time we talked. If I don’t reply to his threats, there’s a very high chance he’ll come hunt me down in person, and if you think I’m brutal, wait until you meet him.”

I take my last bite of fish and shift my gaze to peer at her in the dark.

I don’t know what’s true and what’s not with her. Her ex-boyfriend isn’t my problem.

But there’s a primitive beast stirring to life inside me.

Overprotective instincts for wanting to keep my family safe from the kind of ex-boyfriend Phoebe Lightly comes with.

Yep.

That’s all it is.

No way I want to protect Phoebe herself. She can clearly handle anything life throws at her. She doesn’t need a warrior leaping to her defense, no matter how human and breakable she seems tonight, both physically and emotionally.

It’s a trap, I tell myself.

She’s playing weak to appeal to my chivalrous side, which she assumes exists because I wear flannel, talk back to her, and have a beard.

There’s no way Phoebe Lightly is weak in anything beyond possibly morals.

But I still ask. “Blackmailing you with what?”

She flops her head against the back of the chair so she’s staring up at my overhang again. “Upper East Side life is eat or be eaten. Survival of the fittest. I like to survive. That doesn’t make me a bad person. It makes me an achiever, playing within the rules of my own universe.”