Chapter 564 Smokescreens and Misfires

Yunice was stunned speechless. As the woman happily tipped her pear juice and raided her bag, Yunice stood stiff as a board.

Wyatt’s voice brushed her ear. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

She turned, flustered–and her soft lips accidentally grazed Wyatt’s cheek.

He smiled faintly, then slowly straightened. Only after she stepped away did he lower his eyes to glance at the wet patch on his shirt.

Pear juice wasn’t like water–it was thick and sticky with sweetness.

Soaking through his shirt, it clung unpleasantly. Worse, the night air quickly turned that warmth into a freezing, clammy chill.

Yunice felt her cheeks heat with guilt. She had spilled it. She had wronged him. She couldn’t just let Wyatt freeze like this.

“Do you have a change of clothes in the car?” she asked, face flushed.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Who keeps spare clothes in their car?”

He was looking at her the way he always did–predatory and intent, as though constantly plotting how to devour her.

Yunice met his gaze. That line–who keeps spare clothes in their car–lingered in her mind, and her throat tightened involuntarily.

When she didn’t come up with a solution, Wyatt said in a low voice, “Let’s buy something. There’s a store nearby. It won’t take long.”

Yunice hesitated. What if news broke while they were gone?

But Wyatt stood there, pitifully damp, his soaked shirt shivering in the breeze.

Yunice sighed in defeat. “Fine, but let’s be quick.”

The nearby shop wasn’t a luxury brand–just a basic clothing store.

Yunice darted in, scanning racks of clothes. Wyatt followed, casting one disdainful glance at the store’s tragically tasteless layout.

But trying another shop would waste time.

To make up for her mistake, Yunice threw herself into the task of sifting through piles of shirts like she was panning for gold.

At checkout, the total came to 150 yuan.

She shot a sheepish look at Wyatt. The man normally wore socks that cost several grand…

Whatever, she thought. He’s only wearing this once.

After paying, she handed him the new outfit and suggested he change in the car.

Wyatt refused.

“You think water stays where it’s supposed to?” he murmured.

Yunice’s gaze followed the water stain down his shirt. It wasn’t hard to guess how far the stain had spread.

It must’ve been miserable the whole way here.

“Let’s go back to the car,” she muttered.

She pulled the car into a shadowed spot. Wyatt climbed into the back to change.

“Wet wipes.”

Yunice passed them back without turning around.

Rustling sounds followed–Wyatt wiping off, changing–and then his voice came again. “What, you can’t even look at me?”

Yunice gripped the steering wheel, eyes forward. “Nothing worth looking at.”

Staring would be way weirder, she thought.

A moment passed. Then, “Pass me my coat.”

She reached back to hand him the coat on the passenger seat.

Her hand brushed something unexpectedly firm and warm.

Startled, she turned–and saw Wyatt half–dressed in the wine–red shirt she’d picked. The buttons weren’t done. He’d leaned forward, and her hand had ended up right against his chest.

Wyatt tugged at the shirt. “Didn’t you notice when you picked this? It’s missing two buttons.”

She frowned and reached for the collar, inspecting it herself. Sure enough–two buttons were gone.

“I checked before I bought it,” she muttered. “You probably popped them off.”

Wyatt arched a brow. “There you go again–always assuming the worst of me.”

Okay, maybe she had jumped to conclusions about the pear juice, Yunice admitted silently. But the buttons? No way.

She looked up and said dryly, “If you’re trying to seduce me, don’t play these roundabout games.”

Wyatt didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he caught her wrist before she could pull away. “So you prefer things direct? However you like it—I can do that too.”

“I like the kind of man who can clear my brother’s name,” she replied without missing a beat.

Wyatt raised his brows, then smiled faintly. She really knew how to seize an opening.

When he finally let go, Yunice started the engine and drove them back toward the police station.

Wyatt, usually dressed in black, now stood out in the wine–red shirt she’d picked for him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he cut a striking figure in the dark.

Yunice stood by his side, scanning the area for any sign of insider movement. Maybe someone would slip up and reveal something important.

Then her eyes froze.

Across the crowd, someone met her gaze.

A man with a cigarette between his fingers. He was squinting slightly as he took a drag. When he locked eyes with her, he calmly looked away, as though nothing had happened.

Yunice didn’t react either. She pretended not to know him and nudged Wyatt toward the other side of the crowd.

Wyatt tapped her shoulder and jerked his chin toward the fire escape at the side of the station.

A janitor, work badge swinging from his chest, was walking out of the building.