Two Truths & a Lime (The Love Game Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hayley

  “Just because I could get used to this.” I gestured to the outdoor area that was centered between the various buildings in the complex. It was the middle of the afternoon, and we hadn’t seen a soul at the pool. “Lying here with you in the sun.” I ran a hand over her knee and up a little higher, stopping just below what would be considered inappropriate for public viewing. “Getting you wet.”

  “Drew,” she said with a swat to my hand. “Not here.”

  “What? That’s not what I meant,” I said, acting as though the word choice was accidental.

  Sophia knew me better than that. She rolled her eyes playfully.

  “I was talking about the pool.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Sure you were.”

  Aamee and I didn’t know it when we’d looked at the place initially, but the apartments were frequently used as short-term housing for businesspeople who traveled to a technology company that was practically next door. It seemed most of the people in the complex were working during the day, which meant the pool and other outdoor spaces weren’t at all crowded.

  Sophia interned at the marketing firm, but she was typically done by early afternoon and had Fridays off. I usually used the mornings to make some progress at Rafferty’s, and then I’d come home for a few hours to relax and spend some time with Sophia before heading back over to bartend.

  The schedule seemed to work well so far, and even though I was working more hours than I was used to, having a place to relax that actually felt relaxing made it easier.

  “If you don’t believe me, I can show you.”

  It took her a moment to realize what I’d meant, but once she did, she gripped the chair tightly.

  “Don’t you dare! It’s probably cold in there!”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Scooping her up under her legs and back, I lifted her easily. But the chair rose with her.

  “You can’t throw the chair in too,” she squealed.

  “Sure, I can. There are already some in the water.”

  I was referring to the six chairs situated near the edge on a specially designed ledge that was only about a foot deep so people could relax without getting too hot outside of the pool. Of course, even though the chairs were the same style as the one Sophia currently had a death-grip on, her chair wasn’t supposed to be thrown in the pool.

  “You’re gonna get us kicked out, Drew!” she said frantically.

  “Then you better let go of the chair because you’re going in either way.”

  She was barely hanging on to it anyway because her grip had been awkward from the beginning and the chair was cumbersome. I heard it hit the pavement and felt one of the bars slam into my shin. Once Sophia’s arms were free, she wrapped them tightly around me.

  “If I’m going in, so are you,” she said.

  “Fine with me,” I said before heading to the edge of the pool and launching both of us into it.

  She was still clinging on to me when we entered the water, but her smile told me she was happier about it than she let on. Wrapping her legs around my waist, she leaned in to kiss me. At first, it was quick and playful, but when she pulled away, I leaned into her to capture her mouth again.

  We’d kissed for only a few seconds before I had her pressed against the side of the pool. When she ground against me, I was sure she could feel me through my thin swim trunks.

  “Told you I like you wet,” I teased.

  “I can tell,” she breathed. “Wanna go upstairs? Taylor won’t be home until later.”

  “I kind of like it here,” I told her, my hand brushing lightly over her stomach on its descent lower.

  “Drew,” she scolded breathlessly when my fingers inched below her bikini bottoms. “This is really gonna get us kicked out this time.”

  It was a good point, but one I chose not to worry about at the moment. “Only if we get caught.”

  S O P H I A

  People around me were moving with speed and purpose, as two muscular guys who looked to be in their late twenties carried boxes and small pieces of furniture.

  Since Vee had arrived about an hour ago—with two of her older brothers—she’d stayed mostly in the apartment, attempting to lay out her space in a way that gave her some privacy without completely dominating Brody’s living quarters.

  I leaned over to Aamee, who was on the barstool beside me. “Should we be doing something?”

  “We are doing something, remember?”

  “Right.” I gave her a nod, which she probably couldn’t have seen because her eyes hadn’t left Veronica since she’d arrived. “What is it again?”

  “I’m making my presence felt.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Nothing says I’m here quite like sitting in the same room as someone and trying to light them on fire with your eyes. “But you realize you’ll leave eventually, right? So I’m not sure being here does anything in the long run.”

  “You know, it’s a good thing you’re not planning to be a psychologist, because you’re shit at making people feel better.”

  I couldn’t disagree. And this moment only furthered to prove my ineptitude. It was good I didn’t consider Aamee an actual friend, or I would’ve felt bad. Instead, I just felt bad about watching a stranger for no apparent reason.

  “I more meant is it weird we insisted on being here but we aren’t helping her?” I clarified. I knew the answer, but I still felt compelled to ask. Even though I’d understood Aamee’s feelings peripherally, it suddenly felt different now that we were living it.

  Aamee’s head whipped toward me like I was some sort of demon and she was trying to decide if I was real or if her eyes were just playing tricks on her.

  “It’s weirder if we offer to help.” She sounded disgusted that I’d even ask, and to be fair, I should’ve known better.

  Brody’d done a good job of making himself busy without actually helping Veronica directly in any way. Of course, he did have years of practice at feigning his own importance, so it was probably relatively effortless.

  Veronica continued unpacking one of the boxes on the living room floor. She didn’t even bother looking up when she said, “I actually think the weirdest thing is that you’re only a few feet away and you’re talking about me like I’m not even here.”

  “No one cares what you think,” Aamee snapped.

  This time Veronica’s eyes found us, but she continued organizing her things. After a few moments, her lips turned up into an amused smile. She covered her mouth with her hand just enough to temper the laugh that escaped.

  “Something funny?” Aamee asked.

  Veronica stood, dusting off her hands on one another as she stared directly at Aamee.

  I hoped these two didn’t decide to pick this moment to fight, because her brothers had gone back down to the truck and Brody was… God only knew where Brody was. I guessed he felt less of a need to supervise the unfamiliar men with the two of us here.

  I wanted no part of cleaning blood and hair off the carpet when I couldn’t break them up. Something told me these two would fight like stray cats who’d found a discarded meal in the dumpster of a seafood restaurant. Their nails would be used as primary weapons—or at least Aamee’s would—and one of them was bound to come out of the battle missing part of her ear.

  Neither said anything, instead opting to participate in some sort of staring game as they each seemed to dare the other to look away. I didn’t notice Veronica drop her gaze, but her arms fell to her sides from where they’d been crossed over her chest.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked Aamee.

  “I’m not gonna stop you,” Aamee answered.

  “I meant in private.”

  “I like things out in the open. I’ve never been one for secrets.”

  I should go…

  But since Aamee didn’t seem to want to give Veronica the opportunity to say anything she could later deny, I stayed as a witness.

  “Everything okay here?”

  All
of us directed our attention toward the deep voice.

  It was the shorter of the two brothers, Manny, who’d spoken, but her other brother Franco was by his side. Both of them stood waiting, broad-shouldered and intimidating. Even though I hadn’t ever seen the “protective older brother” stance from Brody, it was easy to identify in Veronica’s brothers. They also probably weren’t strangers to the role.

  “Yeah, we’re all good,” Veronica told them.

  Manny and Franco nodded and went back to work.

  “We’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Franco said to her, though his eyes were on Aamee. I didn’t think either of her brothers would hurt a female, but I figured they weren’t about to stand by while another chick fucked with their sister either. I could respect that.

  Once the guys were out of the apartment, Veronica turned back to Aamee.

  “Listen,” she said before dropping her gaze to the floor like she was trying to think of where to go from here. She probably didn’t expect that her move would be supervised by a psychotic girlfriend, but she shouldn’t have been surprised either. “I know you think that because Brody and I had something before that I’m gonna be all over him or something, and I get that. I do. I wouldn’t want a random girl living with my boyfriend either.”

  “You have a boyfriend?”

  “Not anymore. He’s moving out west for a job, and I’m here for the next few months, but I’d definitely feel some sort of way about him living with another female, even now that we’re broken up.”

  “What’s his name?” Aamee asked, probably more to point out a hypothetical than because she actually cared about Veronica’s personal life.

  “Martin.”

  Aamee flipped her hair to the other side of her shoulder, but she seemed to have softened slightly. Her eyes didn’t look so malicious, and her posture had softened a bit.

  “Sounds like a nerd.”

  Veronica laughed. “He is. He’s getting a doctorate in neuroscience. I’m kind of a nerd too, though, I guess.”

  Aamee stared for a moment before saying, “Hm.”

  “Look, I know you don’t care about my life, and I don’t expect you to. I just wanted to tell you I don’t have any interest in Brody. That was months ago, and it wasn’t much to speak of even when it happened.”

  “Were you with Martin when you and Brody…”

  “No,” Veronica said, shaking her head. “I met Martin at the beginning of the school year, but we weren’t together yet.”

  Aamee crossed her arms and sat up a little straighter. “And…why should I believe you about any of this? Maybe you were with Martin when you met Brody and you cheated on him.”

  Veronica shrugged, seemingly unaffected by Aamee’s accusation. “Maybe. You have no reason to believe me. But you also have no reason not to either. I’m here because it gives me a place to stay while I do my internship. That’s it. It’s really that simple. If there wasn’t something in it for me, I wouldn’t be here.”

  Pausing for a moment, she seemed to be trying to gauge Aamee’s reaction. Veronica’s guess was as good as mine.

  “I’m selfish,” she continued, “but I’m not a liar. So when I say you don’t have anything to worry about with me living here, I mean it.”

  I could tell Aamee was trying to maintain her hardened exterior, but I had a feeling Veronica had begun to breach it. Aamee was used to delivering bitchy, snarky remarks and getting the same in return. What she wasn’t used to was someone reacting to her with logic and rational thinking—someone who didn’t cower to Aamee but didn’t become defensive or, worse, aggressive.

  She didn’t quite know what to make of Veronica, and truthfully, neither did I.

  Neither of them said anything else, and a few moments later, all three guys came upstairs.

  “Where the hell were you?” Aamee asked Brody. “We haven’t seen you since we got here.”

  “I’ve been around. Relax. You girls hungry?” he asked the three of us. “I just told Manny and Franco I’m gonna get a pizza and beer from Marcos now that they’re almost finished.”

  Franco looked confused. “We need one each.”

  “Oookay,” Brody said before turning back to us. “So at least two pizzas, then. If I get four, will you eat some?”

  “Yeah, I’ll eat,” I told him. “Can’t turn down Marcos.”

  “Sounds good,” Veronica said. “Thanks.”

  When I turned to Aamee, she seemed to be deliberating heavily, and I realized her decision was based more on whether she wanted to eat a meal with Veronica and her brothers.

  Brody had his phone in his hand, waiting to call, when Aamee finally said, “I guess I could eat.”

  Chapter Eleven

  D R E W

  When Sean had tasked me with getting the deck ready for Memorial Day, I’d been thrilled. It was a brand-new space that could give the old bar new life. Brody and I were allowed to order what we wanted and decorate how we wanted, which was awesome. But it was also really fucking overwhelming.

  It was great to have the freedom to choose what we wanted to do and what we wanted to buy, but neither of us had ever had this much riding on seemingly small decisions before.

  What if the lighting was too bright at night? Or not bright enough? What if the bar was too small? Or so big that it didn’t leave enough room for people to move around the tables that we planned to put around the perimeter against the railing? Should we put a canopy over the whole deck or just the bar itself?

  I stood against the railing, taking in the space from a different angle.

  “Maybe we should have a theme, like sports or an island vacation. What do you think?” I asked Brody.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know either because what if people aren’t into whatever theme we pick? Do we lose some of our potential customers before they even have a chance to try the place?”

  Sean was hoping that having the new area would bring in additional revenue, but I wasn’t sure of the best way to make that happen.

  Brody stared blankly at the spot we’d just taped off for the bar so we had a visual of the dimensions we’d given the contractors who’d come in to give us estimates.

  “That’s true.” He rubbed his hands over his face as he paced the length of the deck and looked into the parking lot. “God, why is this so difficult?”

  Because the possibilities are endless, and we’re completely ill-prepared to make these kinds of decisions.

  “We’ll figure it out. It’s just that it’s not our money, so I feel like I’m more scared to make the wrong decision.”

  Brody turned back to me. “That makes no sense. I’d rather gamble with someone else’s money than my own.”

  I wasn’t surprised that he felt that way, because he didn’t have a history with Sean or a relationship to maintain.

  “Think you’d still feel that way if it was your dad’s money we were spending?”

  Brody groaned. He hadn’t exactly been known for using his parents’ money wisely, but having someone put this kind of responsibility in your hands with money attached gave that money greater value somehow.

  Mr. Mason had called Brody a little while ago, asking if he could come by the apartment to see Veronica and him. When Brody told him he was working on the deck at the bar, it was clear he thought that information would excuse him from a visit with his father.

  Unfortunately, he’d been wrong.

  Mr. Mason was headed over to say hi anyway because he was “in the area.” Brody and I both knew that was bullshit when his dad had said it, but in Brody’s mind, having his dad come to Rafferty’s certainly beat having him come by his apartment where his pretend wife might be.

  Getting the deck up and running was our chance to show that we might have what it took to create something great, and though we both desperately wanted to prove that to Brody’s dad so he’d consider investing in us, I wanted more than anything to prove it to myself. And I was pretty sure Brod
y wanted to prove it to himself too.

  When we saw Mr. Mason’s car pull into the lot, Brody and I seemed to communicate telepathically. Our eyes locked, and we began an unchoreographed dance of grabbing miscellaneous tools and going to different spots on the deck. Brody picked up the drawing I’d done of our vision for the deck’s setup and began studying it with sharp intensity.

  I heard Mr. Mason coming up the steps before I saw him. I also heard his voice boom across the area and echo against the wood.

  “Gentlemen.”

  “Good to see you again,” I said, standing taller and reaching out to give him a firm handshake.

  “Likewise,” he said, though I wasn’t sure he meant it.

  “So this is it, huh?” he asked. “Brody told me your boss put you two in charge of this place?”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Sean’s owned Rafferty’s since his dad passed away, and I’ve kind of taken on more of a managerial role the past year or two, so when Sean put the deck on, he asked me if I had any buddies who might wanna help me get it ready.”

  Mr. Mason’s eyes darted to Brody and then back to me. I wondered if he was questioning my pool of friends since I’d evidently thought Brody was the right man for the job.

  “Uh-huh,” he said. He didn’t say anything else for a minute or so as he inspected the deck, looking under the railing and grabbing hold of it to test its sturdiness.

  “We didn’t build it,” Brody said. “We just stained it.”

  He nodded. “Ahh, okay.” He pointed to the painter’s tape we had laid out on the floor. “This is for the bar, I’m assuming. You guys planning to build that yourselves?”

  Brody answered, “Yeah, probably” right as I said, “No, we’ll get a contractor to do it.”

  Well, this is off to a great start.

  “We’re discussing it,” I said. “Brody thinks we can save some money by doing it ourselves.”

  It wasn’t true, but it sounded good.

  “And what do you think?” Mr. Mason asked me.

  “I think since neither of us has built a commercial bar before, it’d be best to have a professional do it, especially when it’ll be the focal point of the entire place.”