by Roni Loren
The admission made his blood heat again. “Did I mention I was a stupid, stupid boy back then?”
Her lips curled into a playfully evil smile.
“I’m leaving now because otherwise you’re going to get no sleep at all.”
She leaned over and clicked off the lamp. “Good night, Finn.”
Damn she was good at the tease. “Good night, Livvy.”
He jogged back to the main house in the cold rain, fighting the urge to return to her room and launch into a campaign about how sleep was overrated. They would have time.
A summer of weekends.
With Liv.
That had seemed like forever when he’d first heard it. But now it didn’t seem like nearly long enough.
When he got to the main house, he took a hot shower and then went through his normal bedtime routine, checking all the locks, making sure nothing was tampered with, and slipping his gun in his boot. But for the first time in a long time, instead of lying there and going through the last two years or combing his memory for any evidence he might have missed, he went to sleep with a quiet mind and a grin on his face.
chapter
SEVENTEEN
Liv blinked awake, the level of the light in the room unfamiliar and her ringing cell phone unwelcome. It took her a second to remember where she was. Not her bedroom with the blackout shades back in Austin, but in Finn’s pool house. She squinted, letting her eyes adjust to the morning sunshine streaming through the windows, and flipped over in search of her phone. Her body protested the movement, sore in places she hadn’t been sore in a long time.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she groaned, slapping her hand around the nightstand for the phone.
The ringing thankfully stopped and she sighed, pressing her face into the pillow. But before she could consider going back to sleep, the phone started up again.
“Oh, son of a bitch.” She pushed herself up and leaned over the side of the bed. Her phone was on the floor, halfway under the nightstand, her work number staring back at her on the screen. She sighed and grabbed for it.
“Hello.” She fell back onto the bed. “I’m on vacation.”
“Unapproved vacation,” Preston said into her ear.
“Huh?” she said, still groggy. “No. You weren’t in. I gave my request to Greg. He said you’d let me know if it wasn’t okay.”
“I’m letting you know,” Preston said. “It’s not okay. I need you in today. We just got a big job from Butter and Brittle, a new chain of candy shops opening across the state. They’re willing to throw big money at it, so I promised to put my best designer on it and to personally oversee it. They want multiple concepts and a preliminary design to look at by next Wednesday, so we’re going to have to crash the schedule to get it done by then. Next ten days, you’re mine. Nail it, and there will be a nice bonus involved.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. A nice bonus would be…nice, but she’d taken today off for a reason. “I’ll get right on it when I get in tomorrow. I’m in Wilder for…a family thing.”
“Did someone die?”
“No.”
“Then you need to come back.” The sound of a clicking keyboard filled the line. “If you leave now, you can be here before lunch. I can brief you on the phone once you’re in your car. Their ideas are a little scattered, so we need to narrow the focus.”
Liv sighed and scooted up the pillows, the warmth of the bed calling for her to snuggle back under the quilt. She should be able to snuggle back under. Today was supposed to be a vacation day. Plus, she had pictures to take for Kincaid later and a hot FBI agent to keep her company this morning. “Pres—”
A sharp knock sounded on her door, followed by a booming voice. “Open up. I come bearing breakfast and sexual favors.”
“Who was that?” Preston said into her ear.
Shit. She pressed her hand over the mouthpiece and called, “One sec!” Then into the phone: “No one.”
She and Preston had had a casual thing once upon a time before he was the boss, but she knew that wasn’t jealousy in his voice. Preston only had one love—the business.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Preston said. “I’m telling you I desperately need you in the office, and you’re with some guy?”
Liv gritted her teeth and flung the quilt off so she could climb out of bed. All she’d thrown on after Finn had left were a T-shirt and underwear, but he’d seen her in much less so she didn’t bother finding something else to put on. “I have a right to a personal life.”
“Not during work time.”
“Hold on.” She stalked across the living room and opened the door.
Finn grinned, a takeout bag and coffee in his hand. “Oh, pants optional. I’m fully on board with this plan.”
She pointed at her phone.
He winced and mouthed, “Sorry.”
Preston sniffed in her ear, his opinion clear. “I need you in the office now. I didn’t approve this vacation day. Tell your personal life to keep his pants on. He doesn’t pay your bills. Your job does.”
Liv’s fist clenched at the threat, but she swallowed what she really wanted to say. Preston was being a dick, but he was also stating the truth. He was her boss. And this was her job. What else was she supposed to do? Get fired? “Fine, I’ll be there by eleven.”
“Thank you.” Preston ended the call without another word.
She tossed her phone onto the kitchen counter and cursed. Colorfully.
Finn’s brows lifted. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“You sure?” He glanced at her phone. “You’ll be where by eleven? Kincaid’s?”
Liv ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the bedhead and her annoyance. “No. Work. There’s a crisis, and apparently, my boss never approved this vacation day.”
“That sucks.” He frowned and handed her one of the coffees.
“Thanks.” She took a long sip, feeling weighed down all of a sudden. “It does suck. It’s not a total shock. I was taking a risk asking for a Monday off, but I thought it was squared away. I should’ve known to double-check.”
Finn leaned against the counter. “What about Kincaid? Isn’t she cooking all kinds of things for the photo shoot?”
Liv’s shoulders sagged, more stress piling on. “Yes, I need to call her, make sure she doesn’t start cooking. Damn. Now all her ingredients might go bad by the time I can get back.”
“They might last until next weekend.”
She groaned. “But I won’t be here. This project is going to go through the weekend.”
Finn’s frown deepened. “So I’m not going to see you for two weeks?”
Liv set down her coffee and rubbed the now-throbbing spot between her eyebrows. “Yes. Preston’s not so aware that weekends and weekdays are different things. I was going to work extra hours during the week to make this summer work, but when big projects come up, I’m going to have to be there.”
“So this could happen all summer then,” he said grimly.
“Maybe.” She forced brightness into her voice that she didn’t feel. “Missing me already?”
“I missed you when I walked out last night,” he said, no flirtatiousness in the tone.
The stark honesty jabbed her in her chest, made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling. “Oh.”
He leaned against the counter. “I get it. Work is work. But you made a commitment to Kincaid. And to yourself. And I already emailed my mom telling her I’d be visiting next weekend.”
She set down her coffee, guilt flooding her. “I’m sorry. Can you move it?”
He considered her, something closing off in his expression. “No, it’s fine. This isn’t about me. I’m a big boy and can go solo.”
She rolled her lips inward and nodded. “Righ
t.”
“Well,” he said grabbing one of the paper bags he’d brought in and handing it to her. “I got you a bacon-and-egg biscuit for the road. I’ll head out so you can get ready.”
He stepped past her, and she clutched the bag in her hand, feeling a chill in the room. “Finn?”
He gripped the doorjamb and looked back. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for the change in plans.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Not your fault.”
“You seem mad.”
He turned and folded his arms over his chest. “No, not mad. I’m just wondering if you didn’t push back on your boss because it’s easier to leave than stay.”
Her stomach flipped over. “What?”
“Sometimes the devil we know isn’t as scary. Here you have to deal with a friend’s expectations. Here you have to figure out if you’re still talented with your camera. Here you have to deal with a morning-after conversation when you’ve made it clear that you’re a cut-and-run kind of girl.”
Her spine stiffened. “You think I’m running out because I don’t want to have the after-sex talk?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I think your boss gave you an out from all of this, and you took it.”
Heat crept up her neck. “I have to go to work because it pays my bills. I have to listen to my boss because that’s how life is. I’m not a trust fund baby who has a cushion if it doesn’t work out.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Right.”
She made a sound of frustration. “I don’t want to fight with you. That’s not what this is supposed to be. We agreed…no complicated shit. We had sex. That doesn’t mean you get to lay a guilt trip on me for leaving to do my job.”
He stepped closer, his eyes not leaving hers, and cupped her shoulders. “I’m not fighting with you,” he said softly. “We’re supposed to be doing a job for each other this summer. This is me doing mine. I’m fighting for you. Remember why you wanted this. Remember why you came here. It wasn’t for a good lay.”
“Finn…”
He tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes serious. “I’ll still be here in two weeks, but don’t forget the point.”
He released her, and her breath whooshed out. Before she could say anything back, he walked out and shut the door behind him.
She gripped her elbows, feeling chilled and a little lost. He didn’t get it. He’d lived a life where he always had a financial safety net. She wasn’t running to work because she was scared. She was going because she had to.
Right?
She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Then why did she feel so damn shitty?
chapter
EIGHTEEN
“How is it possible that someone who can make such beautiful food can be so bad at photographing it?” Liv asked, chin in hand as she stared at her computer screen.
“I know!” Kincaid announced in her ear. “I told you I’m lighting impaired. Maybe it’s my kitchen.”
Liv frowned as she clicked through the photos Kincaid had emailed her. Her pancakes looked weirdly yellow and the sausages gray, so lighting was definitely an issue. But even if she could adjust the coloring in one of her photo-editing programs, the angles were all wrong, too. “Are you sure you didn’t purposely take bad ones to make me feel worse about standing you up?”
Kincaid snorted. “Sadly, no. This is my best effort. I have similar trouble when I photograph houses for work. So there’s no way to adjust them?”
Liv sighed. “I may be able to tinker with them a little when I get done with work tonight, but I think a reshoot would be better. When I get out there, I can train you to get better angles and show you where the best light is in your house or yard. Natural light is your friend.”
“Thanks, but when do you think you’re going to be able to get out here again? If you left Mr. Hot Cop’s bed behind, you clearly had an emergency, because why else would you leave that behind?”
Liv grimaced and glanced up to make sure none of her coworkers were close enough to hear her. Oh, how she loathed the open-concept office model. “I never said I slept with him.”
“Uh-huh. You were staying at his place—after that kiss I caught you in on the porch—and you’re not sleeping with him?”
Liv rubbed her temple, a mild headache brewing. “I never said that either.”
Kincaid laughed. “Ha. I knew it. You’re my patron saint right now. Have I told you that?”
“Don’t canonize me yet. Things have been so crazy here at work that I haven’t talked to him since Monday morning when I left. I kind of accidentally one-night-standed him.”
“Accidentally?” Kincaid asked, the don’t bullshit me tone clear.
Liv closed her eyes, regret pressing down on her. “Okay, maybe work has conveniently gotten in the way. I just don’t know what to say. He made it sound like he thinks I’m choosing work over following my letter stuff, but I can’t help that I have a job to do, bills to pay. But I feel shitty because we’d made an agreement to be there for each other—not in the bedroom kind of way but in the friend way—and I’ve had to bail on him.”
Kincaid was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to spend more weekends with him?”
“Yes. But…”
“But?”
Liv looked up at the ceiling, hating the relief that had rushed through her when she’d gotten back into the routine at work. When she’d left Finn, she’d had every intention of getting back to Wilder as soon as possible. She’d made a promise to him and to the other women. To herself. But when she’d stepped into the office on Monday afternoon, and everyone had been happy to see her because she could make things happen, all she’d felt was relief.
The chaos had felt familiar, comforting. Things made sense here. She knew her role. She didn’t have to think about the past or ponder her letter or replay what had happened with Finn. She didn’t have to worry about flashbacks or panic attacks. She could do what she always did—throw herself into work and get shit done. Be the go-to girl.
But every time she thought of that night with Finn, she got a pang deep in her gut, one that reminded her what she’d left behind. Long Acre, Finn, and her friends seemed like another universe when she was away from it. One that she used to be able pack into a vault in her mind and ignore. But now it wouldn’t stay locked away. It tugged at her in a way that made her chest hurt. Even talking to Kincaid like this stirred an ache inside her. They’d grown so close those months after the shooting, and then Liv had just closed the door on her like everything else. She didn’t want to do that again.
“I guess I’m scared,” she finally admitted.
“Of him?”
“Of the fairy-tale trap.” The words hadn’t been what she’d meant to say, but once they were out, the truth of them resonated through her.
“You mean, falling for him?”
“No.” She frowned. “I know better than to let that happen. But I’ve always been really good at creating a fantasy world when I want to escape. In high school, I was struggling with my mom being sick so I created this secret little world with Finn—one where I got to sneak away and forget who I was and pretend I was some other girl. And then after the shooting, I went to college and used alcohol and guys to pretend I was this carefree badass who lived on her own terms, even though I was a wreck inside. Now I’ve finally gotten my life together, and I’m sneaking away to a lake house to take pretty pictures and be with a guy while we pretend our real lives don’t exist. It’s dangerous and feels too familiar.”
“Right,” Kincaid said. “But you’re not running away from anything right now, are you? I mean, what are you escaping? You have a good life, it sounds like.”
Liv rolled a pencil along her desk, back and forth, back and forth. “My life is fine.”
“So maybe this isn’t a fantasy so much as an augmentation. A b
onus. With a penis.”
Liv laugh-snorted and one of her coworkers looked up from his desk. She faked a cough. “You have a way with words, Kincaid.”
“All I’m saying is that we’re all screwed up in some way, right? We’re human. We’re survivors. That all has its own baggage. God knows I have mine. But we all seem to be doing okay now. You’re allowed to have fun. You’re allowed to have a fling with an old boyfriend and not feel like it’s some big life decision or an unhealthy coping mechanism. Be smart about it, but don’t deny yourself some simple life pleasures. Taking your photos. Hanging out with your awesome, amazing, super-wise friends. And hot cop penis.”
A real laugh burst out of Liv this time, and she quickly pressed her hand over her mouth to staunch it. “He’s FBI, for the record.”
“Federal cop penis,” Kincaid corrected. “That’s top shelf. It has authority across state lines.”
Liv shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And awesome, amazing, and super wise?”
“Obviously.”
She could almost hear Kincaid’s grin over the phone. “So when are you going to get back out here and take these pictures for me, woman? Because this whole pep talk has been a thinly veiled ploy to get your talented butt out here to help me not embarrass myself on my blog.”
Liv glanced at the clock and then calculated the amount of work she had left. Too much. But her resolve had been renewed. “I’m going to do everything I can to knock the first part of this project out by Friday. If I can pull a few late nights, I can tell my boss I’m taking Saturday and Sunday off and will finish the rest next week.”
“Yay, perfect. Let me know.”
Liv told her she would, and they said their goodbyes. It was already close to seven, but Liv got up and made herself another cup of coffee. If she could pull this off, she’d not only be able to help Kincaid, but she’d get back in time to go with Finn to his parents’ house.
With a smile and more resolve than she’d felt since leaving Wilder, she got back to work.
