Page 99 of Lawton

She gave me a pleading look. "I thought we were friends, at least."

I looked down at my watch. In a couple of hours, I'd be seeing Chloe. Until then, I had a ton of work to do. The list was long, and nothing on it involved being nice to someone who'd been giving my girl a hard time.

Amber tried again. "Come on. Please? I drove all the way out here."

"So?" I crossed my arms. "You should've called first."

She made a sound of frustration. "You know I couldn’t."

"Yeah? Why not?"

"Because you blocked my number. That's why."

Well, there was that.

"Thendon'tcall," I said. "Now, I've gotta go." I made a move to shut the door.

"Wait!"

I didn't bother to hide my impatience. "What?"

"It's because of her. Isn't it?"

"Her?"

"You know." Her voice grew sullen. "Dog-girl."

"For the last time," I said, "her name is Chloe."

"So what is she, now?" Amber's voice grew quiet. "Your girlfriend?"

A girlfriend? No. Chloe was a whole lot more than that.

For the last couple of weeks, I'd had her at my place almost every day. On the evenings that she didn't have to work, I convinced her to stay overnight. On those nights, I held her in the darkness and felt like my world was complete.

She was everything I ever wanted. If I had my way, she'd be moving in for good, and not as some live-in girlfriend.

But that wasn't Amber's question, was it? I knew what she was really asking. Was I – as Amber liked to say – off the market? There was only one true answer to that. And the sooner I gave it, the sooner girls like her would get the hint.

"Yeah," I said. "You could call her that."

Amber gave a shake of her head. "But you hardly know her."

In spite of everything, the words hit too close to home. Other than the basics, I still didn't know nearly enough about the girl I loved.

I never went inside her house, because she never invited me in. I never saw her at work, because she said it would be a distraction. I never met her friends. I never saw her family. Whatever the wall was, I never got past it.

I shoved those thoughts aside and said, "I know enough."

"But what if she's a reporter or something?"

I almost laughed. "A reporter?"

"You know. Like for the tabloids. Or maybe the internet."

I gave Amber a long, cold look. This wasn'thertalking. Obviously, she'd gotten some coaching – or hell, maybe a damn script to follow. It was like every time she opened her mouth, Brittney's words came pouring out.

"Tell me something," I said. "This little visit. Was it your idea? Or Brittney's?"