by Tawna Fenske
I sink down into his desk chair. It bounces a little beneath me, and the arms are weirdly out of whack with one adjusted higher than the other. Leave it to Cooper to have the world’s most uneven desk chair in an office filled with brand new furniture. “So now you’re the expert on how Vanessa thinks?”
“No, asshole.” He twists the Rubik’s cube again, aligning a neat row of blue squares. “But I am an expert on being judged without all the facts. On what it feels like to be presumed guilty every fucking time.”
I stare at him, letting my brother’s words sink in.
My God.
Is that what I’ve done? Is that how I made Vanessa feel? There’s a sinking in my gut that tells me I’ve screwed this up way worse than I realized.
“I just wanted to fix things,” I offer feebly.
“Maybe she didn’t want you to fix anything,” he says. “Ever consider that?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “When she was yelling those exact words at me, it did cross my mind.”
He offers a good-natured half-smile. “She wants your respect, Dean. Not your forgiveness. Not your fix-it skills. Respect.”
The words zap me in the chest like lightning bolts. “I respect the hell out of her,” I insist. “She’s smart and creative and brilliant with numbers. I have mad respect for all of that.”
He cocks an eyebrow, still twisting the cube. He’s got all the greens aligned now, and I’m wondering how the fuck he’s doing this. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
I sigh, frustrated and stuck and angry all at once. All of that’s aimed at me, not my brother. Definitely not Vanessa. “How did I screw this up so badly? I only wanted to help.”
Cooper’s eyes fill with sympathy as he twists another row of colors. “I love you, man. You know I do.”
“But?”
He grins, kindly not making a butt joke. “Want to know what your problem is?”
“I’m supposed to say yes, right? That’s what Mari would tell me—I’m supposed to want to learn from my mistakes.”
“Mari’s not here. Sorry, but you’re stuck with the fuckup sibling instead of the shrink.”
I start to insist he’s not a fuckup, but Cooper waves me aside. “Look, man. You’re too damn good at everything. That’s your problem.”
I frown. “How is that a problem?” It sounds more like he’s trying to make me feel better, but that’s not Coop’s style.
“It’s a problem when you get too used to it,” he says. “You were the first to ride a bike. The first one to read or drive a car or get laid.”
“I’m not sure about that last one,” I muse, pretty sure that’s not his point.
“My point,” Cooper continues, ignoring me, “is that you got used to being the smartest and best and assuming that meant you needed to pave the way for everyone else. Trample the grass, chew down the branches, whatever the fuck lions do in the jungle so the other lions can pass through easier.”
“This is the weirdest metaphor ever.”
He shrugs and turns the cube to the side, glancing down to check his progress. He’s almost got the damn thing solved. “Look, I’m not here to tell you how to run a business. Or your relationship. Those are literally the last two areas where I’m qualified to give advice.”
“Isn’t it supposed to mean more if I figure it out for myself?”
He cocks his head. “Sure, go for it. What’s your best guess on where you went wrong and what you should have done differently?”
I think about that a moment. My instinct is to handle it the same way I always do. Send Vanessa on a spa day and call a lawyer to fix whatever mess she might be in. Hire cops and PIs to nail the son of a bitch who’s screwing with our program.
But I’m realizing it’s not the right answer.
“Listen,” I mutter.
“What?” He looks up from the Rubik’s cube. “There’s something you want to say?”
“No, I mean listen.” It’s not a command, it’s the answer, though the fact that Coop heard it the other way should tell me something. “That’s what I’m supposed to do is shut the fuck up and listen.”
Cooper drops the Rubik’s cube in his lap and points at me. “Bingo.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. You’re smart as hell, and everyone knows it. But so are plenty of other people. You’ve gotta give ‘em a chance to do their thing.”
I grit my teeth, hating that he’s right, but knowing he is. “Which means not rushing in to save the day all the time.”
“Sure, let other people wear the cape sometimes.” He grins. “They might surprise you and look better in it than you do.”
I think about Vanessa in that champagne-colored dress. Or wearing nothing at all, naked and beautiful in her bedroom. It’s the last thing I should be thinking about right now. I should be reminding myself she’s smart and capable and kind and clever. Obviously, there was some sort of mix-up with the CPA exam, but—
“I need to ask her about it.”
Cooper picks up the Rubik’s cube again. “You mean Vanessa? The exam thing?”
“Yeah.” I rake a hand through my hair. “That was a dick move to just assume.” Even if my assumption is that she wouldn’t do it, assuming anything at all wasn’t the right call.
“If it helps, I can tell you that admitting you’re a dick helps cancel out the dick move,” he says. “It’s in the manual or something.”
I laugh for the first time all morning. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He watches me stand up. “You gonna go talk to her?”
“If she’ll see me.” After the way I acted, I wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to. “Maybe I’ll bring a peace offering. Flowers or something.”
He shakes his head sadly. “Flowers won’t cut it. Try muffins. Caffeine, maybe.”
“Since when are you the expert on women?”
He laughs and plucks the cube from his lap, twisting the last row to line the colors up in perfect formation. “It’s possibly my only area of expertise.”
“That’s not true.”
Still grinning, he chucks the cube at me. It bounces off my chest and lands with a clatter on Coop’s desk. “Go get your girl, dumbass.”
“And now you’re the bossy brother. Great.”
I turn and stalk out of his office, the echo of Coop’s laughter ringing in my ears.
He’s got a point, so I make a beeline for the coffee shop. My instincts are screaming at me to go to Amy Lovelin or call the bodyguard or email the AICPA so I can vindicate Vanessa once and for all.
But none of those are the right move.
Nothing matters but telling Vanessa how sorry I am. Not just a generic apology, either. Coop did a fine job pulling my head out of my ass. Now I need to show her, to make it clear I understand where I went wrong.
As I approach the coffee shop, I spot Colleen and Patti through the window. They’re hunched over a laptop, pointing at something on the screen. As I push through the door, they both look up.
“Hey, Dean.” Colleen frowns. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” That’s a lie. “Actually, no. I was a dumbass with Vanessa. Got anything I can take her as a peace offering?”
Patti perks up. “We’ve got Nutella banana oat muffins.”
“That’s a start.” That and a side of groveling might get me somewhere, though maybe I’ve done irreparable damage. I keep picturing that flash of hurt in her eyes when I told her about the email. “Can I have half a dozen? And a vanilla latte for Vanessa.”
Colleen picks up a cardboard mug. “We’ve got this new house made lavender syrup. Made it myself from the lavender patch over on the north edge of the property. She might like that better, since it fits with her goal of breaking out of old ruts.”
Old ruts like dating control-freak assholes?
“Make it a huge one,” I tell her. “Thanks.”
I sink down into the nearest chair, remembering Cooper’s words. Have I been so stuck i
nside my own ruts that I’ve ignored everyone else’s needs? If that’s true, odds are good Vanessa isn’t the only one I’ve hurt.
But she’s the one who matters most, especially right now. I don’t mean our professional relationship, either. It’s Vanessa the person I care about, not Vanessa the CFO. Not what she does for my business, but how she makes me feel. Not just me, but everyone she meets. Lana and Lauren, Tia and Mari, they all glow in the light she puts out. I can’t believe I didn’t consider that I might be snuffing it out.
I’m still digesting that when Patti yelps. “There! I just saw it again.”
I look up to see her watching the laptop screen, both her muffin-filled hands frozen over a pink cardboard box. As she gestures at the screen with one of them, Colleen abandons her post at the espresso machine.
“You’re sure?” She joins her wife behind the computer. “It’s not just a deer or something?”
“You know any deer who wear blue jeans?” Patti sets the muffins in the box and fiddles with the keyboard. “There must be some way to scroll back through the live video feed.”
“Want me to try?” Colleen asks.
“Yeah, you’ve used this system more than I have.”
I ease out of my chair, conscious of the nervous energy pulsing off both of them. “Everything okay?”
Patti looks up. “It’s one of the wildlife cams. The one on the north edge by Tia Nelson’s property.”
“One of your foxes?” Not that foxes wear blue jeans, either.
“Definitely not a fox.” Colleen taps a few keys on the laptop, and the reflection of the screen flashes in her eyes. “We thought maybe you had maintenance crews out there or something, but Lauren said no. Said there’s not supposed to be anyone out there right now.”
A ripple of unease moves through me. These two know way more than I do about computers and weird sightings in the area, so I hesitate to ask. “Mind if I look, too?”
“Be my guest.” Colleen taps a few more keys. “Hang on, I’ve almost got it queued up.”
All three of us watch as the camera scrolls back, then pauses on a flash of denim. “There.” Patti points at the screen. “See? Lower left-hand corner.”
Colleen frowns. “It’s like they know where the camera is, and they’re trying to stay out of the frame.”
“Didn’t quite make it,” Patti murmurs as Colleen hits a key to zoom in on the edge of the image. “Is that a hand?”
I peer closer, barely making out the grainy image. “Looks like a hand. Not a male one, either.”
Colleen grunts. “Men can wear pink nail polish, too.”
I let that pass, intent on studying the screen. I don’t recognize this particular patch of earth, which isn’t surprising. The compound is more than 50,000 acres, and I haven’t memorized them all. But there’s something else niggling at me.
“This borders Tia Nelson’s property?” I ask. “How far from there to the residences?”
“A quarter mile, maybe less.” Colleen zooms in closer. “It’s right up against that gravel road that runs the far edge of her property. It’s a real easy spot to slip through if you don’t want to be seen.”
I lean closer as the hair on my arms starts to prickle. I don’t know why, but something’s sitting weird with me. Something besides the idea of a stranger sneaking onto our property. Why not use the normal driveway?
“Can you get closer to that hand?” I ask. “Yes, there. Perfect.”
I squint at the blurry image and the edge of someone’s pantleg. The heel of a hiking boot that looks new, pink piping around the bottom. And that hand, it’s familiar. Not the painted nails, but something else.
“Oh, shit.” I blink a few times to make sure I’m not seeing things, but no. That bracelet. I’d recognize it anywhere.
I stand up straight, feeling dizzy.
“Dean?” Patti frowns. “You okay, honey?”
I nod, backing away from the screen. “Call Lieutenant Lovelin,” I say then stop myself. “Please.”
“On it,” Patti says, picking up the phone.
I’m already sprinting toward the door. “I know who’s been messing with us.”
And I know exactly why she’s after Vanessa.
Chapter 18
CONFESSIONAL 418
Vincent, Vanessa: (CFO, Juniper Ridge)
Biggest fears, huh? We’re really gonna go there? [chews thumbnail] It’s not the balloons or the snakes. Not even the snake with balloons, though that was pretty nasty. You really want to hear this?
All right. I guess it’s the fear that I really am as helpless as my mother says. As helpless as I think she’s always wanted me to be. Like—she’s my mom, right? If anyone knows enough to judge if I’m capable of running my life, wouldn’t it be her? Sometimes I almost reach a point where I think, no. She’s wrong about me. I’m strong and capable and I have my shit together.
Then something will happen that makes me second-guess everything.
I’m halfway to my cabin when I hear Lana’s voice.
“Vanessa! Hold up; I wanted to talk with you.”
Fuck.
I love Lana, don’t get me wrong. But the last thing I want right now is a heart-to-heart with one of Dean’s sisters. Especially not one he’s asked to help shore up my sullied reputation.
But Lana’s cheerful smile stops me in my tracks, and I stop walking to wait for her. She’s wearing cute pinstriped capris and a white T-shirt knotted at the waist. She’s as fresh and bright as a spring flower, and I feel bad for wanting to dodge her.
“Great dress,” she says, twisting Roughneck’s spare leash around one of her slender wrists.
“Thanks. It’s my favorite.”
“You have excellent taste.” She tucks a lock of honey-colored hair behind her ear. “I was heading over to your place to grab Sir Pups-a-Lot, if that’s okay.”
I glance at my watch, surprised to see it’s almost ten. “Of course. Sorry, I forgot.”
“If you’re headed that way, I’ll walk with you.”
“Oh, um, actually…” I fumble for an excuse to be alone. “I was going over there.”
I jerk my thumb in some random direction, and her bright gaze follows. She frowns but doesn’t ask why I’m visiting the waterpark in a Rebecca Taylor eyelet sheath dress.
“Right, yes, of course.” Her eyes fill with sympathy. “Dean filled me in about the situation. I’m so sorry. You’ll be in our meeting this afternoon?”
I feel my jaw tighten. “I wasn’t invited, actually.”
“Hell.” Her brow furrows. “I’m sorry. He means well, but sometimes my brother gets a little too focused on running things. He doesn’t stop to ask questions.” She hesitates, then puts her hand on my arm. “Look, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but it would help if I knew the circumstances of the investigation.”
It’s the kindness in her eyes that undoes me. That, and the way she asks instead of assuming.
“Was that PR-speak for ‘did you cheat on the CPA exam, Vanessa?’”
Lana doesn’t flinch. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, and there’s absolutely no judgement from me if—”
“No.” I look down at her hand on my arm as tears spring to my eyes. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t cheat.”
“Hey, Vanessa? Look at me, okay?”
I take a couple deep breaths before lifting my gaze. The fierce friendship I see in her eyes is the closest thing to sisterly affection I’ve felt since Val left.
“We’ll get through this together, okay? We’ll take our cues from you, and everything’s going to be fine. The important thing is that you feel all right about the process. We’ll talk more at the meeting, okay?”
I nod, but I can’t say anything. My throat is clogged with tears, while my brain floods with the one thing I’m not saying: I don’t plan to be at that meeting. I don’t plan to be at Juniper Ridge at all by the end of the day.
I can’t stay, not with Dean beli
eving I’m not competent enough to have a say in things. In my career, my security, my safety. My presence here can’t be the thing that derails this show before it even gets off the ground. If I leave now, they can find someone new. Someone without all this baggage.
Lana must see in my eyes that I’m not able to answer, because she squeezes my arm once and lets go. “I’ll leave you alone. Is it still okay if I take Roughneck for a walk?”
I nod and take a step back. “Of course.”
“Take care, Vanessa.” Her eyes shimmer with sympathy. “If you need anything at all, call me. Even if you just need someone to punch my big brother in the junk.”
I can’t help choking out a laugh. “Thank you.”
I’m full-on ugly crying by the time I turn away. Crying and fuming and feeling all kinds of emotions I never expected to feel. This is why I was so hell-bent on dodging relationships. Not this precisely, but the sick, awful, balled-up feeling in my gut. The knowledge that a man I care about doesn’t trust me one bit. Not with information, not with decisions, and not to do the right thing.
Maybe that means he’s a jerk.
Or maybe it means there’s something inherently untrustworthy about me.
It’s this possibility that sets me crying again, great, heaving sobs that leave me emptied out and aching. I stumble down the cinder path, not daring to stop. It’d be just my luck one of Dean’s other brothers or sisters would come along, and then I’d be stuck explaining myself all over again.
Swiping at my tears, I head for the waterpark. I don’t know what my plan is, but it involves being alone to think. There’s that table where we sat at the base of the big slide. Was that only a month ago? It feels like years. Like a lifetime ago.
As I approach the door, a maintenance guy I don’t recognize pushes through. “Ma’am.”
The smell of chlorine and nostalgia hits me so hard I stumble. Averting my face, I mumble a greeting and change course to head the other way. The bumper cars are up ahead, so I head for the refuge of the round, rubber-ringed cars.
They’re up on a platform that puts them about waist height, so I climb the four short steps and aim for a car near the back. It’s quiet here, except for a smattering of birdsong and some distant hammering from the waterpark. There’s no one around to remind me I’m not capable of running my own life. That I’m as big a screwup as my mother always said.
