What Lies Beneath: Romantic Suspense Read Online Free PDF Page A

answer?”
    “Never. Let’s go.”
    He grabbed my hand and started to lead me to his car.
    “Wait,” I protested. “The front door is still open, and I don’t have my purse, and I’m not dressed.”
    “Nonsense. You look beautiful.”
    I wasn’t sure about that. I was wearing leggings with an old black tunic top and sneakers. 
    “You don’t need your purse,” he said. “My treat. But you probably should close the front door.”
    He released my hand. I found myself running up to the house, eager to shut the door. I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted to get this over with, or because I was excited to go out with Theo.
    He opened the passenger side door for me. I got into his car and held my breath.

5
     
     
     
     
    “Where are you taking me?” I asked. “We just passed the café.”
    I watched the coffee shop fade into the distance in the side mirror.
    “We’re going for a drink, not coffee.”
    “Oh. It’s a bit early to start drinking, isn’t it?” It was only one o’clock.
    “I’m disappointed. I heard you were quite the party girl.”
    I scoffed. “From who?”
    “Around. I have my sources,” he said with a mischievous smile.
    “I was never a ‘party girl.’ Whatever that means.”
    “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, just that you like to go out, drink, have a good time.”
    It was true. I used to love to go into the city to see a concert or an art exhibit. I could spend all night drinking and laughing. But that was the old me.
    “Maybe when I was younger. I’m too old now.”
    “Too old? You’re younger than I am. Are you saying I’m too old to be going to bars?”
    “Yes,” I said drily.
    We both laughed.
    We drove a ways before coming to a bar a few miles outside of town. We stepped out of the car and walked up to the building. I furrowed my brow. The place looked like a shack. It was covered in rotted wood and old highway road signs.
    “Don’t be fooled by its appearance,” Theo said. “It’s actually quite nice inside. It’s trendy now to take these roadhouse joints and turn them into Hipster bars.”
    “Hipster bars? I think I am too old for this.”
    “I know, I know, but the only other bar in town is a redneck place. I’m not too comfortable in there, are you?”
    “Well, no.”
    “Some of the people who drink here are, well, obnoxious hipsters, but they have good food and good drinks.”
    “Alright,” I said.
    My skepticism gave way to curiosity as we entered. The inside was really nice. It was covered in polished wood and expensive looking tables and chairs. The entry way walls were covered in plants. Little signs stuck out of them indicating their names. I read: thyme, mint, parsley.
    We were greeted by a hostess who said: “Welcome. Have you been here before?” She didn’t give us a chance to answer. She continued on with her script. “We pride ourselves on a vast selection of homebrews and wines. All of our food is locally sourced, organic and made from the freshest ingredients.”
    She led us to a table and set two menus in front of us.
    “Your server will be with you shortly,” she said with a turn of her heels as she left.
    I opened the menu; it had more choices of beer than I’d ever seen before. I flipped a page and saw an equally long selection of wine. The second menu was full of food. It was the kind of food you’d eat at a bar except made fancier. There were cheese fries made with truffles and fried in duck fat; there were Banh Mi sliders and hummus.
    I didn’t know where to start. Then I saw the prices. My eyes went wide. The food was insanely expensive; the alcohol was just as bad.
    “Are you sure about this?” I asked.
    “Yeah. My treat. Get whatever you want.”
    He must have seen the doubt on my face because he said: “Don’t worry. Being a nanny pays better than you would think.”
    “Really?”
    “You’d be surprised. It’s become a social status issue with the rich,” he said distastefully. “It’s not enough