by Rebecca Rode
Trev’s hand moves deliberately, slowly, and pushes wet hair off my face. His fingertips slide down my cheekbone and trace a circle around my ear. Goose bumps race across my skin, having nothing to do with being chilled.
Lightning flashes, and the rain falls a little faster. Moments later, the thunder catches up. The storm is getting closer.
Trev rolls me to lay across his chest. It’s warmer not lying directly on the dirt floor—for me.
“I have a sweatshirt in my backpack.” I pull it out, and Trev rolls us both to the side while I arrange it beneath him.
“Thanks.”
I settle back in, snuggling under his arm and across his chest with my hand resting over his heart. Its steady rhythm is calming.
With a solid and sure belief, I realize that Trev has climbed into my heart, pushing aside the heaviness that has become my life and anchoring me with hope—hope that the coming days will be happier than my recent past.
The storm moves ever closer. A cracking sound bursts, and an old tree outside our shelter falls. The lag between the lightning and thunder decreases with each flash. I can feel the static on my skin, the little hairs on my arms lift with it, then the sky flashes white with lightning, immediately followed by thunder. Trev’s arms tighten around me.
This!
Other people might think a romantic date is a movie, blah, a nice restaurant, huh-uh, or going dancing, nope. Well, if we’re dancing in the moonlight, yes. But this, lying together in one of nature’s most spectacular displays, is rock-my-world romantic.
Of course, the only thing to do is kiss him. As I consider it, my heart thumps in my chest. He can probably feel that. When my hand moves across his chest, I feel him take in a quick breath. I wish I could wrap my arms around him too.
Geez, Zara. I need to ambush him just because we’re lying in close proximity with nothing else to do. My heart flutters around in my chest. Seriously. Maybe if I could look into his face, I would see if—
My eyes meet his.
Suddenly, his arm drops from my shoulder to wrap around my waist, pulling me up the length of his body where his lips take mine in a fierce kiss. A sigh escapes as I give in to feeling everything he offers. Our closeness feels like sunshine on my hair, like cool morning grass and crisp dew. It feels like a lunar eclipse and the first blooms in spring.
His other hand slides up my neck. Tingles erupt and flash up my spine. I could feel the hunger in my kiss as well as in his. My heart turns over completely now. My lips moving with his, soft, but earnest.
Trev’s hand caresses my back as he whispers in my ear, “You’re so beautiful.”
Every wall I thought I had built to keep him firmly in the friend zone—his choice, not mine—turns to rubble, and I’m lost to his kiss.
For a time, his lips move across my ear, his teeth nip at the edges, then he mouth nibbles down my neck, sending chills down my spine. My fingers traipse through his hair. His kiss turns gentle, coaxing me to lead, and somehow, we trade places. I press my hands on the firm plane of his chest. Our lips meet again and again, matching the rhythm of the storm around us.
Too soon, the lightning rushes away as fast as it came upon us. The rain is barely falling, and it seems the storm has passed. Wind rustles the bushes sheltering us, but our little spot is protected and dry.
We lay together as our hearts slow. The only reminder of the fierce storm is the loamy smell of the wet dirt that mixes with the crisp scent of rain.
“You amaze me, Zara.” The back of his fingers caress my chin and cheek. “You take care of your mom. You run your own business. And you do it all being genuinely happy.” He gives a quick kiss to my forehead.
I lay my head back on his chest and feel him breathe. The wind calms. Water drips from leaves to the ground and all the world is quiet. Eventually, I can hear birds begin to call.
Words rumble in his chest. “Five miles—you ready?”
“Hmm?” I ask. I wasn’t really ready to hear words—still thinking about the storm.
“Ready to go?”
That’s my signal that he’s moved on and isn’t thinking about us anymore. He’s probably trying to get us to safety before another storm hits, but his words still sting, and I swallow back a prickle of hurt.
It’s probably best that we use the sunlight we have to get back as soon as possible. “Sure,” I answer.
I roll away and wait for him to crawl out so I can stow my hoodie and emergency blanket. Finally, I’m out too, and we head off.
We’ve only gone a few yards from the cave when Trev says, “I have something to tell you, but I can’t right now. I need to work out a few things first.” He’s silent a moment, then adds, “Saying something makes it worse, doesn’t it?”
“So, you’re telling me that you’ll tell me something, but you can’t tell me now?”
He just nods.
“Yup, it’s good to know that I don’t need to know.” I don’t try to hide my sarcasm. How can he say that and not expect me to be kill-the-cat-curious? “Yeah, it’s a little worse.”
We hike silently at a brisk pace. I’d prefer to talk, but he seems determined to get there fast. Whenever we reach the top of a hill, Trev pulls out his phone to check for cell service then stuffs it back in his pocket. We won’t be able to get a connection until we reach the last hill before the bridge we’re looking for. The hill is in a direct line with the farthest tower outside of town, but he doesn’t ask, so I don’t tell him.
I’m probably paranoid, but it feels like he’s trying to ignore me. It’s seemed strained between us since the storm ended. Why?
At about the halfway point, when the trail widens, I move up beside him, syncing my stride to his and touching his hand. He plunges that hand into his pocket and takes out his phone. Again. Then activates the screen.
“I still don’t have service.” He drops his hand, but doesn’t put his phone back in his pocket. When I look at it, his knuckles are white, like he’s strangling it.
Holy whiplash! I can take a hint. No touch—no us. Okay, then. It feels like a rock slide settling in my chest.
I step ahead of him because I don’t want to watch him. Right now, that hurts.
10
Trev Cooley
I TRY TO TALK MYSELF through the next few minutes. Just think about the next hill or the next step. Keep my mind off her eyes, or lips, or the soft sound she made when I kissed her. I debate with myself and a conversation evolves as I try to think of ways to keep her in my life.
I wish I could walk in, grab the books, find the problem, and be done with this already. But nothing is that easy. My company won’t be a nightmare forever. It will either be fixed, or it will fail. If we can get the revenue repaired, the income will be there, and I could offer her a future.
Then I’d live in California, and she’d live here.
She could move to California.
But her mother lives here. And her business is here. And she loves it here too.
My business could just as easily fail. Then I wouldn’t have to live in California. I could live here.
And keep up the charade, earn a barely living wage. Yeah, that’d make me a real prize.
Or you could tell her the truth. You’re the CEO.
And the next thing I’d have to say is that I never meant to stay here, or to get involved with her.
Either way, I lose.
Her.
My heart wants her. I don’t know what to do with that. I finally had my career going well, and it imploded right before I reconnected with an incredible woman. I never thought falling in love could be so painful.
Love?
It must be.
Everything about my life is upside down. And what have I done to Zara? She’s got enough crazy in her life too. I’m only here a few weeks, then I head back to California. I don’t need to complicate her life—add more confusion, and risk hurting her more.
At the top of the next hill, I check my phone. One bar. A steady stream
of buzzes vibrate my hand as the notifications that pop on the screen list emails, texts, and phone messages I’ve missed today. Three names show up on every list: Nolan, Paula—the accountant who’s investigating our losses—and Rob, with each of his messages sounding more worried than the last.
His final message simply asks, “Are you dead?”
I dial Rob’s number. Without saying hello, he asks, “Where are you?”
“We got caught in the storm, and we’re taking a different route back to town. Can you pick us up at Twelve Mile Junction?”
“Yeah. What happened?”
“Long story. I’ll tell you later.”
“You’d better. I want details.”
When I click off, I read two recent texts from Nolan.
When are you coming back? and We need to talk.
Anxiety spurts through my veins. It must be bad news if we have to get together. I text back.
Set up a meeting for us in Sacramento. We need to keep the European vacation cover for a while longer. What if it’s someone there? I don’t want them to see you making the appointments.
The final message I read is from Paula.
Check the secure email we set up for you.
I open it and read.
We found the amount of the money leaks and one scam. But it’s too small to account for your total losses. You must have two embezzlement scams going on. They don’t seem to be related.
A warning voice tells me to prepare for the worst. My return email says,
I’ll set up a meeting and let you know. What day can you go to Sacramento?
She answers immediately.
I can meet with you tomorrow. Or you’ll have to wait until I get back in a week.
I look up flights on my phone. Six a.m.? I’ll have to leave here at four in the morning to get on that flight—otherwise, I’ll miss our chance to get this done. After checking with our lawyer, I reply to Paula and copy in Nolan.
Tomorrow in Sacramento at ten a.m. I’ll send you info on the location as soon as I find something.
I stumble in a hole on the trail and notice I’m way behind Zara, who’s walking at a clip across the hillside. The rest of the way is a gentle, down-sloping hike, but I still have to work at it to catch up with her. I find myself studying her to see if she’s trying to outpace me.
She would understand. My business is at stake—my life, really.
My conscious is a little quick with a retort. Liar.
I know.
***
No one should be driving at four in the morning—especially me. I roll down the window and breathe the cold mountain air. It’s not quite enough, so I lean into the wind and let it blow through my hair. Better.
Zara. Why wouldn’t she take my call? Because I was a jerk. I got so caught up in the emails and texts that I completely ignored her on the hike out. I’ve blown it.
The flight is uneventful, and the taxi downtown gives me plenty of time to regret being such an idiot. I shoot off a quick text.
I’m out of town. I’ll be back in a few days. Call me.
By the time I walk into the lobby of the hotel where we rented a conference room upstairs, I’ve been up for almost seven hours, and it’s not even ten yet.
Nolan must not have heard me approach as he waited by the elevator because when I say hi, he jumps. The doors slide shut, and he asks, “How’s Colorado?”
“Better than I ever imagined.” If he had asked me a couple of months ago what I thought would happen, I would have answered that I had no expectations. But this is Nolan, my best friend. I want to update him about Zara, but this isn’t the time. It’ll have to wait until the meeting is over.
We all sit at the oval table. Paula pushes an open file folder between us, then begins to explain her investigation into our accounts and finances. “We’re looking for two sources of theft. One is smaller than the other, and only occurred for a short time. The larger is still ongoing.”
Then she pins Nolan with a sharp gaze. “Please add in what you know here, Nolan.”
I’m curious why she said that, but when I look at Nolan, he’s bent forward over the table, his hands clasped and pressing against his brows, like he’s rubbing away a headache.
Our lawyer leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of him.
“Yeah.” Nolan clears his throat. “Give me a minute.”
I haven’t heard Nolan’s voice this strained, and I’ve never seen red flush up his neck and jaw. What’s the deal?
“Yeah. It was...I…” He shakes his head, and in a small, defeated voice, he says, “I don’t know why she did it.”
No one says anything for a long moment. I look between the three of them several times before I ask, “What am I missing?” Anxiety is building in my chest.
Without answering my question, Nolan asks Paula. “How much does he already know about the situation?”
My emotions swirl between anticipation and dread.
“Nothing yet. I saved that for you,” she answers.
“Just tell me already. Curiosity is pissing me off.” I pull my chair closer to the table and lean forward.
“Could you give us some time?” Nolan asks, looking between our attorney and the accountant.
“No. The deal is, we stay here while you’re telling Mr. Cooley.” She folds her arms and sits back in her chair. The lawyer didn’t move at all.
What aren’t they telling me? Clearly, everyone else knows something I don’t.
Nolan starts off slowly at first. “I started dating Kat a few months ago. I told you about it last time we talked. Neither of us wanted it to get out, so we’ve kept it quiet” Then he quickly and forcefully adds, “But I swear I didn’t know about this.” His eyes flick quickly toward Paula then back to me. Then he looks right at our lawyer. “I wasn’t involved.”
Nolan looks intently into my eyes. “I didn’t know about it or do it. I swear, Trev.”
“About what? Is she the one stealing from us?” I fight to control my growing anger. “My own sister?” I wish I could convince myself that it’s a mistake. My chest feels hollow. Someone say, “No, not her,” but I know they won’t. In the sickening feeling in my gut, that feels right.
Paula nods, and Nolan continues. “She set up a fake company that charges us referral fees on all our bookings that don’t originally have a referral fee attached to them.”
Paula sits forward again. “Here’s how we found it.” She projects a spreadsheet showing comparisons of all accounts on the whiteboard. “We started running monthly comparisons on accounts over the last few years.” She places another page on top of the folder. “You can see here that your percentage of bookings from business referrals was steady around seventeen percent for the first three years of business. During the last seven months, it has been one hundred percent.”
A long, brittle silence settled in the conference room.
I smooth down my tie and take a deep breath. “What’s been done about this?” I ask. “Is there a plan?”
“Nothing yet,” Nolan answers.
Paula adds, “We wonder if Kat’s the other source of missing funds too.”
The lawyer says, “We don’t want her to realize we know and adjust accounts to hide the problem.”
She’s probably behind both schemes—unfortunately, it makes sense. I wonder if she thinks it’s worth going to jail. Could she really think she’d never get caught? What’s Mom going to say? Kat’s an idiot.
Nolan pushes his hand through his hair. I can tell by his voice that he’s having a hard time talking about her. “I’ve been avoiding her for a couple of days.” He’s still looking down as he mumbles, sounding crushed, “I don’t want to tip her off and have her skip town with any evidence we might need.”
The surging emotions I’m feeling during this meeting have to be that much stronger for Nolan. I was betrayed by a family member and an employee, but one I didn’t like very well. He was betrayed by someone he cared for deeply.
We spend the rest of the time looking at the profit and loss statements for each of the locations projected on the screen. I look closer at the Colorado office. Something’s off.
Duh. That’s why we decided on the undercover bit.
My name comes up as an employee, reminding me of what I could have in Colorado. The business is great, but the girl could be everything.
I glance down the list. I’ve only been at the Colorado location a little over month, but a couple of the names stand out to me. “Who are Peter Hall and Jan Mayers?”
Paula drills down into the accounting ledger. “Custodial staff.”
“That’s it.” I come out of my seat and slam my hands on the table, making everyone jump. “There is no custodial staff. I’ve been cleaning toilets for a month.”
Paula checks their W-4s. “They’ve both listed ten exemptions. That’s the most that can be claimed without triggering an IRS review.” She clicks over to the payroll account for the other offices. “Every office has two employees in custodial with the same profile.”
“Well, we know how it’s going out. Now we have to find who,” I say.
“I have one guess,” Nolan replies through clenched teeth.
11
Zara Hollis
“I HAVEN’T HEARD A WORD from Trev since our flood-hike-kiss, and it’s starting to make me self-conscious.” I call to Elena, who’s sitting on the stairs outside my embalming room.
She’s only come inside this room once, years ago, right after I started working with my dad. She turned pale and hyperventilated. Apparently, seeing a dead body really freaks her out.
Now when she wants to talk with me, she sits on the stairs and looks at the beach picture I hung on the wall in front of her.
“Did I tell you that he tried to call me the night we got back from our hike? I was so hurt, I wouldn’t answer the phone.” I pause, holding the needle up. “Was I wrong?”
“No, and I haven’t even seen him around town. Not that I’m super looking, but still. I always thought he liked you, and from what you told me about your last adventure together, I was right,” she says.
