Talking After Midnight. Dakota Cassidy

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      “Desperate times, huh?”

      And so many desperate measures. “That about sizes it up.”

      “Landon Wells, right? He’s the man who owned Call Girls before Dixie and Caine?”

      Her heart twisted in her chest at the mention of Landon’s name. She’d loved him so much. He was the only person on earth who knew who she really was. The only person on earth who’d cared little about her past—who’d been willing to help her when the entire world wanted to spit in her face—and some had—literally.

      “Yes.” She damned her throat for closing up. Clearing it, she sat up straighter, acutely aware of Tag’s thumb caressing her finger. “He was an amazing human being, and if not for him, I’d be livin’ on the streets.” She didn’t care that she was revealing something so personal, so painful. Landon would always have her undying gratitude, and she’d never hesitate to say it out loud.

      “No family to turn to?”

      “Nope.” Not a single soul.

      “I’m sorry to hear that.”

      “Don’t feel sorry for me.” Please. “There are plenty of others who have it so much worse. For instance, just today I read one of the Kardashians broke a nail and Taylor Swift is never, ever getting back together with her boyfriend.”

      Tag chuckled. “I didn’t mean it in a pity kind of way. I meant it in the ‘Wow, it sucks that you don’t have people nosing into your business twenty-four-seven’ kind of way. So, where’s your family?”

      Marybell stared at him. This was getting too close for comfort. Yet she found herself repeating the words she repeated to everyone when they asked. “I was in the foster care system all my life. No family.”

      His grip on her hand tightened, and she knew she should yank hers back to safety, but it was so warm and...safe. Something about the calloused surface was safe. “Damn. This time I am sorry.”

      “Damn. I’d hoped you’d be more original.”

      “Original?”

      “Everyone says they’re sorry. I guess you’re not the exception I’d hoped for,” she teased, and smiled. She was used to the eyes full of sympathy, sad smiles, but it was all she’d ever known. She’d never truly realized what she’d missed until Landon came along.

      Tag’s eyes searched hers. “Not laughing. My family drives me crazy, but I couldn’t live without them.”

      Marybell shrugged to hide all her childhood hopes dashed—all her Christmas wishes ignored. “You could if you didn’t know what it was like to have one.”

      “So I gather the Call Girls are your family now? You all seem pretty tight.”

      There were times when she was almost afraid to acknowledge how she felt about them out loud. To say it was to throw it out into the universe and take the chance the universe would strike back.

      If you didn’t tell anyone you cared about something almost more than you cared about breathing, it wouldn’t tempt the Fates to snatch it away. She kept her feelings about Em and the girls on the inside. “They’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever had.”

      For all the years spent wondering what it was like to belong—really belong somewhere—she’d found that in the least likely place of all, and whether they knew it or not, she clung to their friendships. In silence, while she treasured them in ways she hoped they felt rather than heard.

      She didn’t want these friendships taken away when it had taken thirty years to find them. Tag had the ability to obliterate the only real thing she had, and he didn’t even know it.

      She faked looking at a watch that didn’t exist on her wrist, pulling her other hand from his. Without looking at him, she rose to her feet, brushing the dead leaves from her torn jeans. “My break’s almost over. I have to go.”

      Tag was up and on his feet, his large frame looming above her. “So I bet you don’t want to do this again, huh?”

      Yes, she did. No. She wouldn’t. “I’m not dating.”

      Tag tipped her chin up and smiled, his white teeth gleaming against his sun-weathered skin. “But you are eating. You need your energy for all that oohing and aahing.”

      Walk away now, Marybell. “Does what I do for a living bother you?”

      “Nope. I won’t tell you it’s not a little weird to know you—”

      “Get guys off over the phone?” Maybe if she was crude, he’d go away. He had to go away.

      Tag didn’t miss a beat. “Okay, if you want to put it that way. Then, yeah. But that’s not something that’d scare me off.”

      What would scare him off? If her outlandish makeup and hair didn’t do it, surely her job was cause to rethink pursuing her.

      Tag gripped her shoulders. “Is that what you want? To scare me off?”

      That’s what she should want, but she wanted that far less than she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him again the way he’d kissed her last night. Taking a step back and out of his reach, she kept her tone indifferent. “I want to go back to work.”

      Tag latched his fingers together and held them out, hitching his sharp jaw at her office window. “You want a lift?”

      She laughed, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Marybell pointed to the path that led back around to the front of the guesthouse. “I’ll take the long way. Thanks for dinner. G’night, Tag.” She made her way along the cobbled path, passing the neatly manicured topiaries with twinkling lights on them, her chest heavy and tight.

      It was time to find a new escape route to avoid Tag.

      “G’night, Marybell,” he called after her, his deep voice swirling in her ears.

      Goodbye, Tag.

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