Free The Other Marlowe Girl (Marlowe Girls) by Beth Fred

on the other side, “you slept with her boyfriend in her house.”
    “Why are we still on that? I loved him. She didn’t. And shouldn’t it bother you that your wife is still angry about a break up that happened years ago?”
    He shook his head. “Kammy, grow up.” He sounded like my sister just then. “I just came to tell you that I would like for your sister to have a relationship with you. I’ve never done anything to harm that. If I’m not so friendly sometimes, it’s because I don’t trust you. I’m sorry.”
    “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
    “I don’t care, but now you know.”
    “What have I ever done to you?”
    “I love Tiffany.” He paused for a minute. “Look, you’re her sister and Lucí’s aunt. I’ll try to be nicer, but don’t make me regret it. And what are you and Enrique fighting about?”
    “None of your business.”
    “You’re right, but he—don’t hurt him, okay?”
    “Can’t. We’re not talking. You only get to be my brother-in-law after five, so unless you need something, get out of my cube, please?” I picked up a stack of papers I was supposed to sort for Sylvia and laid them out in front of me.
    He nodded. “You did a good job yesterday.” That was the nicest thing Luke had ever said to me. He walked out of my cube, closing the screen behind him.
    I wasn’t about to try to get a ride with Tiffany at lunch, so with nothing else to do, I decided to watch “So You Think You Can Dance” on my computer. This girl was overambitious, mixing ballet steps into her salsa, and almost fell. Twenty comments talked about how elegant she was. It was so stupid. She couldn’t even dance in her heels, and I was about to tell them that when my phone buzzed against my desk. I never answered numbers I didn’t know, but I decided to on a whim. The manager of Burgers N’ More near Tiffany’s had called to set up an interview for that night. Before I got off the phone, someone tapped on my screen while opening it. “We could get lunch,” Enrique said.
    “If you’re opening the door while knocking, what’s the point of knocking?”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “What do you need?”
    “To talk to you.” He took a seat in the chair across from my desk.
    “Fine. Say what you have to say.”
    “I didn’t tell him what you think I did.”
    “But you told him I think he’s the reason Tiffany hates me.”
    “I asked him about it. He laughed at me. He said that Tiffany rarely listens to him, and he would never tell her what to think about someone even if she did.”
    I glared at him. “I asked you not to.”
    “I did it to help.” 
    I crossed my arms. “What else did you tell him?”
    “That you have a stalker, and I’m worried about you. I mentioned the text in front of his house.”
    “You didn’t mention that my stalker is a—”
    He brought his finger to his lip, shushing me then whispered, “Don’t say it here.”
    I nodded.
    “No, I didn’t give him any details.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    “For what?” he asked.
    “Making such a big deal out of it.”
    “Can I take you out tonight?”
    The screen of my cube whipped back and Luke came in, glaring at me then his brother. “What the hell are you doing in here? If you don’t have enough work to do, I can give you more.”
    “What’s wrong?” Enrique asked.
    “I cannot believe you!” he shouted at me. “If you didn’t want to do something, or couldn’t do it, you should have told me.”   
    “What are you talking about?”
    Tiffany appeared in the open space of my cube where the screen should have been. “Luke, your secretary said you needed to see me, and the receptionist said you would be here. What’s wrong?”
    “Did you send her here?” Luke asked.
    “Send who here?”
    “Tiffany, I know you want to help your sister, but this was not the way to do it,” he said.
    Tiffany put her hand on her hip. “I don’t know what we’re talking about.”
    “Did you send her