by Holley Trent
She could adapt.
But she didn’t want to.
She’d used up all of her adaptability for the year, and the field she usually harvested her cares from was frozen and barren.
Athena had done that to her, ahead of their usual schedule, actually, with a stream of back-to-back projects in the past nine months.
Finch didn’t complain, at least not out loud. They let her work remotely two or three days each week and they paid for her health insurance. She was grateful to be gainfully employed.
She simply wasn’t especially grateful to be The One at the publishing house who was tasked with editing books written by people who were great at telling stories but found grammar to be a disposable nuisance.
She could probably translate some of those books into Gaelic quicker than she could edit their English.
Actually, she’d done some of that, too.
Athena was good at exploiting people like her.
Their people found out that staff members had peculiar skills and suddenly, those workers had enhanced job descriptions.
The funny thing was the Gaelic translation of that one historical fiction novel sold heaps better than the original English version did. An influential reviewer based out of Ireland had called the prose “Graceful and learned.”
If only they knew.
“To be clear,” Finch said, tugging her leather gloves off by the fingertips, “my name is Finch Alice and I work for Athena. I believe I’m on the wrong list.”
The woman, whose name badge read “Keely,” furrowed her brow. “Athena?”
“I am aware I’m behind the group. I was held up.”
She was held up trying to get a second round of edits sent to a boat-dwelling author before he sailed to Parts Un-Internetted.
She would be so thrilled when that book was out of the production process once and for all.
There were nightmare authors, and then there was Phillipe. He was charming and sweet, sure, but he had little respect for clocks and calendars. They’d already pushed deadlines back twice.
“Keely?” called out a perturbed voice from the office just beyond the reception counter.
The tree-pinned woman turned toward it. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Everything all right?”
Keely expelled a nervous giggle and turned back to Finch wearing a warm, but strained, smile. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it all seems. Lisa and I will get you fixed right up.”
There came a deep grunt of frustration from the office, then the squeaking of chair legs against the wooden floor followed by plodding footsteps.
“Call Joey,” she said, or something like that. Finch couldn’t be entirely certain, because the instant the woman crossed the threshold, something in her brain short-circuited.
She knew her—or knew of her, anyway. Finch had seen her at various Athena parties back before Lisa’s best friend Everley Shannon flew the coop, but she’d never seen her that close-up.
Tall and athletically built, she looked like she could probably power through a WNBA coordinated defense without breaking a sweat, but at the same time, she looked like she never, ever sweat. Her makeup was perfect. Matte skin. Artfully applied eye…stuff. Finch wasn’t sure what all it was, but the assertive black rims around her dark eyes—that was the best part. They made her seem that much more intimidating.
Finch couldn’t help what she liked.
There was probably something Freudian about it. She’d spent her life not being noticed, and she was attracted to women who couldn’t be ignored.
Christ, and all that hair…
There were probably yards of those dense, dark coils, piled high atop her head and cleverly twined into a big bun.
Finch wondered if they were heavy and what they might feel like cascading down onto her face.
Keely dialed, eying her boss with something like apprehension.
Lisa wasn’t even looking. Standing with her arms crossed over her chest and drumming her red nails against her biceps, she stared toward the ceiling, perhaps seeking heavenly interference from beyond it.
Finch didn’t think that was going to work, and she was Catholic-ish. She was more superstitious than anyone, probably. If there was a saint statue to plead a case to, she probably owned it.
“He’s not answering.” Keely set the phone in the cradle so gently that Finch thought she might be afraid to offend it.
Or probably just Lisa.
Lisa raised her brow and nodded a few times in the way the eternally frustrated did.
Finch’s mother did that a lot, mostly because of that seven children thing.
“Of course he isn’t,” Lisa said. “I think the group was supposed to convene for some kind of company rah-rah thing. All right.” She let out a weary exhalation and settled that sultry gaze on Finch.
She didn’t say anything. She stared at Finch with her mouth shaping a word yet to be spoken. Then one eyebrow jerked upward, and she made one of those assessing “Hmm” sounds. It was the sort of appreciative sound Finch’s father made whenever her mother wore her polka-dot dress.
But certainly, coming from Lisa, the sound had some other meaning. The chances of a woman as gorgeous as her being attracted to Finch were about as high as the probability of her mother getting her name right on the first try.
Pretty to think otherwise, though.
Lisa cleared her throat. “You can leave your bags here. I’ll store them in the office. Go grab a welcome cocktail with your peers. Check back afterward. We should know by then if everyone from LaForge has arrived or will be arriving. Maybe you’ll get lucky and get a cabin all to yourself.”
“I’ve never been lucky,” Finch murmured.
“Well, maybe this Christmas, you’ll turn over a new leaf. And me, too. Perhaps we can go turn over a bunch of leaves together. Might even find a couple of four-leaf clovers while we’re out there.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
Lisa laughed. It was a light sound, in stark contrast to the businesslike tone she’d just spoken with, but her expression had shifted to match it.
Apparently, she thought Finch was amusing.
Finch hadn’t been joking, because she was exactly the sort of woman who’d disappear into the woods “turning over leaves,” and if she had any luck at all—which she didn’t—she’d return with filthy clothes, crushed foliage in her hair, and a smile on her face.
But Finch got moving, because she had nothing else to add to the discourse and standing there staring at the woman would be flat-out odd.
She left her laptop case and soft-sided bag next to the desk, turned on her heel, and started toward the door in a hurry.
But realizing that she actually didn’t know where she was going, she stopped abruptly, sighed softly, and slowly pivoted back toward the desk.
Lisa and Keely were watching.
Lisa was doing that thing with her eyebrow again.
Finch swallowed. “Um. Is…there a map of the property, or…”
“Yeah, Joey had all the packets,” Lisa said. “He was supposed to distribute them, but I guess that’s not helping you much right now.” She disappeared beneath the counter and emerged seconds later with a piece of paper.
“Ooh, full-color,” Keely crooned. “I didn’t know we had those.”
“Technically, we don’t. They’re mockups the designer sent me. Got a bunch of drafts. I don’t see any reason to hoard them.” Lisa extended one long arm. The map dangled at the end of it. “Head to the building marked Hall. If anyone asks you where that came from, tell them you got it at the gift shop for five bucks.”
Gingerly taking the offering into her hands, Finch peered at the illustrated map. “There’s a gift shop?”
“Nope,” Lisa said brightly. “I just want you to mess with them. Report back with all the details of how they react. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How so?”
“Athena wanted all the staff to be offline while they’re here. The c
ellular service is only slightly better than nothing. I’ll give you the wi-fi code. Just don’t share it or try to connect to any popular porn sites.”
“What about less popular ones?” Finch found herself asking.
Lisa let out a husky laugh and pointed at Finch. “You’re cute. You know that?”
Finch couldn’t remember the last time she’d made anyone laugh like that.
And she did not think she was cute, but if Lisa would insist, Finch wasn’t going to argue.
“Give it a shot and tell me what they are,” Lisa said. “The guy who installed the routers put on content blockers I didn’t ask for. Yet another thing I have to pay someone else to fix.” She turned sharply and retreated to her office. “I mean it about that list,” she called back.
It was early in their acquaintance, so Finch couldn’t be entirely sure, but she was reasonably certain her soul mate was in that office.
Her mother would be so displeased. She’d really been looking forward to Finch accepting Tommy Callahan’s “generous” offer of marriage. “See, Tommy’s got his own place. A duplex. Rents out the other side. That’s good money, Finch. Who else is gonna take care of you like that?”
Finch scoffed and let herself out through the north door.
Tommy Callahan was an introvert’s nightmare. He never shut up and personal space was a challenging concept for him. If she grew old with only a vibrator and pension to keep her company, she’d be much better off.
There was nothing nightmarish about Lisa’s company, though. In fact, it was the closest thing to a dream Finch had had since starting her job at Athena.
CHAPTER THREE
“Hey, can you tell me where Lisa is?” Joey asked the frazzled woman behind the reception counter.
She paused in her task of dusting the lodge library’s paperback collection and blinked in his general direction.
Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned.
He didn’t know what it was about him. He asked people simple questions, and they acted like he was inviting them into a criminal conspiracy.
“It’s fine,” he said drolly. “Lisa and I are on a first-name basis. I don’t think she’ll be too put out if you send me her way.”
“Put out” may have been putting things mildly. Knowing Lisa, she’d walk him out to the street and tell him to wait there because the garbage truck would be around to collect him momentarily. Lisa didn’t do things by halves, so when she felt things, they were huge feelings.
That was all well and good when she was telling him that she loved him.
But when she decided she couldn’t do that anymore? It hurt like hell.
He didn’t think that was fair. Nothing had changed between them since they’d gotten together except the date.
“But if you’re on a first-name basis, Mr. Novak, wouldn’t you just call her cell phone?” Lisa’s new employee resumed her dusting. “That’s what I’d do.”
Joey wasn’t too impressed by what anyone wearing seizure-triggering Christmas jewelry would do. “Cell service is weak out here and my phone battery is low.”
“Oh,” she said.
Just oh, with her back to him as she swished that feather duster around.
“You know what? I’ll just look around. Thanks for your help.”
“Of course! Can you make you say that in your post-stay survey? That I was helpful? It’d really mean a lot.”
Joey set his molars together and tried hard not to grind them.
Both the Burnout Bungalows’ excursion van and Lisa’s SUV were in the parking lot, so she couldn’t have gone too far.
He needed to catch her before she got pulled in all directions for the evening, entertaining the two corporate groups. There was supposed to be a movie projected for Athena’s staff at dinnertime, and people would definitely notice if she wasn’t there to host.
“If I were a vengeful woman avoiding the only person on the planet worth her effort, where would I be hiding?” he murmured as he let himself out of the rec room.
It was too late for her afternoon coffee ritual in the dining hall, and she’d likely already completed most of the chores for the day. If he were her, he’d be in his bunk trying to decompress before the next thing.
So he set out down the wooded path toward the well-hidden owner’s cottage.
He could probably find it with his eyes closed and may as well have in the past. More nights than he could count, he’d stalked through the dark in search of her, knowing full well that if she had her druthers, she wouldn’t be found.
Unfortunately for her, he was also entitled to an opinion, and his just happened to be in direct opposition to hers. They had differing ideas of what “husband material” meant. In her estimation, he’d missed the mark.
He tried not to be offended by that. He’d make the best husband. Already, he could say, “Whatever you say, sweetie,” with a straight face, and mostly mean it. In his opinion, that slated him into the top two percent of possibilities.
The exterior lights were on at the cabin and lamplight shone through the front windows. He rapped gently on the door so as to not frighten her. “Lisa?”
Footsteps creaked against the ancient wooden planks of the floor and then stopped.
“Come on, Lisa. You know I can hear you.”
He couldn’t quite make out her muttered retort to that, but knowing her as he did, he could fill in the blanks.
The heavy door swung inward with a groan.
She blocked his entry, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. “Mr. Novak.”
“Oh, so, Mr. Novak, is it?”
She shrugged and stared at him that way she had a year ago—the you’re gum on a subway floor way.
She was so good at flipping that fuck-you switch when she was done with people.
They didn’t have to be done, though. He’d told her that.
He groaned. “For God’s sake, can you let me in?”
“For what?”
“Let’s not play games. You and I both know we weren’t going to let the debate drop. You had to know that if I came here, if I saw you, I was going to bring it up again.”
And he was going to keep bringing it up until she saw reason. They worked, the two of them. But working wasn’t enough for her.
He didn’t know what else he could do except burn some major offerings on her altar and hope she was moved by the gesture.
“The outcome’s not going to change,” she said. “I let you off the hook. Go find yourself a Mrs. Novak in the city.”
He shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets and counted his heartbeats. That was easy because he could hear every one of them in his ears.
Nine. Ten…
She knew what she was doing. She knew that if he got frustrated enough, he’d back off and try later with a different strategy or different words. All the momentum building between them would collapse. He’d be nowhere, and that was exactly what she wanted.
Not this time.
He took a deep breath, let it out, and decided to rely on the chemistry that had him crawling into a hotel bed with her a year prior. They’d been a bit drunk and fresh off of a vigorous and heady argument about…fuck if he knew.
She’d been a little mean, and that had turned him on for some reason.
Well, after that night, she’d certainly stopped being mean. She was his secret and he was hers because neither had wanted to rock any boats at Athena or with the people they were connected to. They were doing the long-distance thing with him in Manhattan and her in western New York, and that was fine—that was great—until she decided that it wasn’t.
“Give me ten minutes, Lis.”
“I know how you can exploit the time you have, so no.”
“Five, then.”
“And then what?”
“And then…”
Well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, and he would never tell her the lie that he’d just walk away and leave her alone forever. People cou
ldn’t easily do that to the ones they loved.
“I just don’t see the good of it,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll surprise you and say something you haven’t heard yet. Five minutes, Lis.”
Staring into those deep brown eyes made him want to wake up each day with her next to him. He wanted her to be the first person he saw.
He wanted to be a part of her days and her nights, but distance complicated things.
Shockingly, she got out of the way and headed toward the back of the small house. “I’m a fucking masochist. That’s the only explanation I can think of for letting you in here.”
He let the storm door swing shut behind him and followed her to her room.
She was pulling a crisp white fitted sheet across the mattress and he hurried to the opposite corner to help.
He immediately regretted helping.
The domesticity of the chore reminded him of more things they wouldn’t be doing together.
He’d made his choice and so did she, she’d say.
“Four minutes,” she said in an uninflected voice.
She unfurled a flat sheet and shook it onto the full-size bed.
“I told you I’d say something new, but the truth is, sweetheart, I don’t have anything. I was hoping that the two of us just being in the same room would be enough. I hoped it would do something.”
“It’s definitely doing something.” She fitted a white comforter he hadn’t seen before onto the bed and tossed on a pair of pillows.
“A good something?”
“I happen to know you’re smarter than that.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he confessed.
“Give up.”
“On you?”
“On… On us, Joey. We don’t have all the right ingredients, and you decided that was fine.”
“I did not decide that,” he snapped. He’d let a lot of things slide with her, but she had to know that dishonesty wasn’t one of them.
If she was moved at all by his outburst, she didn’t show it.
She carried the dirty linens to the basket and fetched clean washcloths and towels from another.
“So, is that the game we’re playing now?” she called out from the bathroom. “You’re going to pretend you weren’t offered the chance to swap some of that stock of yours for better pay on top of a remote work percentage? You could have gotten four days in a row with me every week. That would have been enough for me, especially since I told you I’d follow you into the city during the off-season. But you couldn’t do it. So don’t fucking come in here now and expect there to be fireworks. You doused them all in cold water and made your priorities very clear.”
