Rainy Day Friends Page 25

“Okay,” Lanie said. “What’s up with people staring at my hair?”

  “You’re wearing frosting in it,” Mark said.

  She turned and found him in uniform looking his usual badass self, a fact that the smile on his face only amplified.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, slapping his hand away when he tried to touch her hair.

  He simply used his other hand and swiped his finger over her head, which came away smeared in chocolate frosting.

  “Dammit,” she said.

  “That’s a bad word,” Sam said. “Our friend Alesia gets a spanking if she says a bad word or fibs.”

  Mark arched a brow at Lanie, and in a reaction that she did not approve of, her body disconnected from her brain and quivered. “No, but seriously, what are you doing here?”

  “Dispatch got ahold of me,” he said. “I stopped at the bakery in Paso Robles.”

  She eyeballed his perfect, bakery-made cupcakes. “Those aren’t homemade. They’re supposed to be homemade. You cheated.”

  “So . . . you made yours, then?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “Sort of.”

  He leaned in and with his mouth against her ear said softly, “You remember what happens to fibbers, right?”

  She got a hot flash.

  From the front of the room, the teacher clapped her hands twice, which was apparently the sign for class to start because people started to scatter.

  “You guys gotta go now,” Samantha said in a rush and both girls flung themselves at Lanie and Mark, giving hugs and wet kisses. “Thanks, Lanie,” Sam said. “Thanks, Daddy. Don’t go too hard on her, okay? Her heart’s in the right place.”

  The words were Cora’s. Lanie could hear her boss saying those exact words and knew that was where Samantha had gotten them. If she hadn’t been so frazzled—and covered in chocolate—she’d have taken a beat to admire the wonderful qualities the woman was imparting to her family, and maybe even ache a little bit since she’d not gotten much of that from her own.

  Mark was still chuckling as he and Lanie headed out of the school.

  Lanie bit her tongue, refusing to ask him what the hell was so funny because—

  She gasped when Mark pulled her around the corner and pressed her up against the wall of the building.

  “What the—”

  Before she could finish the sentence, his mouth came down on hers. He kissed her long and quite thoroughly before lifting his head and licking his lips. “Definitely store-bought frosting,” he chided.

  She gave him a shove and he took a step back, laughing outright now. “You are so spoiled rotten,” she exclaimed. “You have no idea!”

  His smile faded a little, as if maybe he suddenly remembered what had happened and all he’d learned about her, and just like that her humiliation renewed itself. She whirled around to leave, but he caught her hand and reeled her back in.

  “Don’t,” she said, not sure what she was saying “don’t” to exactly. To looking at her in that way he had that both made her bones melt and her heart go squishy? To kissing her again? Because if he did, they’d end up in bed—where, granted, they did their best work—and that thought scared the hell out of her. It was getting hard to keep her heart out of the mix.

  Actually, scratch that. Not just hard, but outright impossible.

  Mark used his free hand to stroke her hair back from her face. Then he looked at his finger—streaked with chocolate—and licked it.

  She made a sound that was half laugh, half sob and his hands tightened on her.

  “You’re still avoiding talking to me,” he said quietly, no longer amused.

  “No.”

  “Lanie.”

  She sighed. “Okay, yeah. A little. I’ve been avoiding talking to you a little.”

  “Why?”

  She stared up at him. “Have you not been paying attention?”

  “I have. I’m paying all my attention.” He leaned in close. “What are you so afraid of, I wonder?”

  “Honestly?” she asked. “I’m putting all of my energy into not seeking the answer on that.” She paused. “I’m going on a road trip tomorrow.”

  “With River. You’re going to go through Kyle’s things to see if you can’t get her ring back.”

  She shook her head with a sound of annoyance. “Do you know everything?”

  “I try to. For instance, I know that you’re the most incredible, caring, warm, most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You need to meet more women then.”

  His lips curved into a very small smile. “You coming back, Lanie?”

  His eyes were like lasers, burning into hers, and she supposed it was somewhat of a relief that he could read her so well. Saved a lot of time. “I’m not quite done with my contract,” she said. “And I don’t leave in the middle of my obligations.”

  His gaze held hers prisoner. “Is that all this is? An obligation?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Good. And you know damn well you don’t have to go at all; everyone here, including me, would love for you to stay.”

  She dropped her head to his chest again. Let herself soak up the innate and delicious guy scent of him, his strength, his goodness. Then she pushed off. “I’ve got to go.”

  He let her, and a minute later she was in her car. She drove to the winery on autopilot and parked. And then sat there, head down on the steering wheel.

  What the hell was she doing?

  She was still straddling that line of telling herself she couldn’t possibly stay. Still telling herself there was nothing to keep her here, a vow that had become even more serious once River had revealed herself.

  But now her commitment to her self-pity was wavering, along with her resolve to stay unattached to anyone here. Her roadblocks were falling away one by one and it was . . .

  Well, terrifying.

  All the more reason to go, she told herself firmly. Stick by that. Own it. Finish your work and get out, walk away while you still can.

  A few minutes later her phone vibrated in her pocket, nearly giving her heart failure. It was Mark. “Hey,” she said, annoyed at how breathless she sounded.

  “Hey, yourself. I’m back at work, but according to Holden, you’ve been sitting in the parking lot talking to yourself for ten minutes. Am I worried?”

  “No.” She paused and closed her eyes. “Mark?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for caring.”

  There was a beat of silence. She’d surprised him, she realized. “I care a lot,” he said very quietly, as if he didn’t want to scare her off.

  And when had she become that person? she wondered. The one of the two of them who was afraid of her feelings and emotions? Okay, so she’d always been that person.

  The truth was, she’d hidden behind his no-relationship stance because she was afraid, afraid that her feelings for him left her feeling as if she were naked in school and vulnerable. And she didn’t do vulnerable. “I know you do,” she said and then let herself say it. “I, um . . . care a lot about you too.” And then, because she was in uncharted waters without a navigation system, she ended the call.

  By this time tomorrow she’d be on Lanie’s and River’s Most Terrifying Adventure.

  Chapter 26

  My anxieties have anxieties.

  The next morning, River stood in front of her closet trying to figure out what to wear for this road trip when Holden knocked and came in looking like the cowboy he was in boots, jeans, and a cowboy hat, shoulders broad enough to carry any burden that came his way.

  He smiled at her and moved to her side. “You about ready to go?”

  “I would be—if any of my clothes fit.”

  “So you’re really going to do this thing with Lanie?”

  “Yes.” And if she was being honest, she was excited about it too. It was a chance to get Lanie back in her life. She missed her, like she imagined she’d miss a sister if she had one.

>   Holden nodded. “Nice.”

  “That I’m going?”

  “Your smile,” he said and gave her one of his own rare ones. “But yeah, also that you’re going.”

  She gave him another smile in return. “You know what I like about you?”

  “My charm and sexy eyes?”

  She laughed and God, that felt good. “That you don’t try to tell me what to do.”

  “Why would I ever do that?” he asked. “And also, full disclosure, my eyes aren’t even my best feature.”

  She rolled her eyes and went back to studying her closet, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t wonder what his best feature might be. “None of my sweaters fit me anymore.”

  “Here, take this.” He shrugged out of his sweatshirt, which was indeed big enough to fit her. He wrapped it around her shoulders and didn’t step back after, ensuring that his airspace intersected with hers.

  She stilled, trying to decide what that odd sensation going through her was. Excitement or anxiety?

  Both, she decided.

  Holden caught a stray curl and tucked it behind her ear, his fingers lingering at her temple. And then he leaned in an inch. And then another. Going slow . . .

  For her, she knew.

  She kept her eyes open as he gave her the chance to pull away. But she didn’t pull away, and he brushed his lips across hers.

  A test kiss.

  One that deepened in the best way when she relaxed into him. He checked himself before it went too far, nuzzling her cheek, smiling against her when she made a sound of protest that he’d stopped. “Don’t want to rush you,” he whispered.

  “A little rushing wouldn’t bother me.”

  He pulled back slightly and studied her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You want me.”

  “Well, I’m not dead, am I?” she asked. “But I refuse to tie anyone down.” She held her arms out and looked down at herself. “I’m a complete disaster, Holden.”

  “Hey, if you want to tie me down, I’m game. But turnabout is fair play.”

  She rolled her eyes, but there was no denying that quiver deep inside was all excitement now, no anxiety.

  “And you’re not a disaster,” he said. “Not even close. You haven’t let the right people in, that’s all. But the right people are here, just waiting on you to decide.”

  She stared up at him. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met, a little rough-and-tumble around the edges. Smart. Stoic. Real.

  “Your hair’s smoking,” he said. “What are you thinking about?”

  “I’m thinking you might be too good to be true.”

  He did the oddest thing. He tipped his head back and laughed, and it was a beautiful sight. “I’m a lot of things,” he finally said, still smiling. “But too good to be true isn’t one of them.”

  She shook her head. “So what happens now?”

  He pulled a key from his pocket and slid it into hers. “That’s to my cottage. It’s an open-ended invitation.” He lifted her chin and kissed her again, soft and deep and hot enough to melt her bones. “Think about it,” he said.

  She wanted to. Oh God, she wanted to. But deep down in her gut she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t do it to him, saddle him down with the likes of her and a baby that wasn’t his. Heart in her throat, she shook her head. “I can’t, Holden.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, nodded, and then walked away. Without taking his key back.

  “Your key,” she called after him.

  But he rounded the corner and was gone.

  FROM THE SHOTGUN position of Lanie’s car, River shifted for the hundredth time. “Ungh.”

  Lanie glanced over with a look of complete exasperation. “Are you serious? Again? It’s only been ten miles since the last pit stop.”

  “Hey,” River said, feeling defensive, and uncomfortable as hell. They’d been on the road for two hours and it was two hours too long. Granted, the drive was beautiful. They were going south on 101 toward Santa Barbara. Green rolling hills after green rolling hills, dotted with oak trees that reached north to the stunning clear blue sky. Having never traveled anywhere except to Wildstone, she wanted to soak it in and enjoy it, but she couldn’t. “You try surviving with two feet kicking your bladder like it’s a drum set. You know what we need? A TV. I’m going to miss Ellen today.”

  “We’re almost there. Can you make it?”

  “Define almost.”

  Lanie sighed and found a gas station.

  When they were on the road again, River needed something to take her mind off her inability to get comfortable. “So . . . you and Mark?”

  Lanie didn’t react except to grip the wheel tighter.

  “Closed subject?” River asked.

  “Unclear subject,” Lanie corrected.

  “What does that mean?”

  Lanie sighed. “That other than enjoying each other and the fact that he makes me laugh, I don’t know what we’re doing. But I do know it’s a dead end.”

  “My mom used to say that if you find someone who makes you laugh and your life flow easier, you should keep them because that’s all you’ll ever need.”

  Lanie glanced over. “Maybe you should take that advice.”

  “Are you kidding? Look at me.” River gestured to her belly. “Until I got this job, I was homeless. I’m about to pop. What would a guy want with the likes of me?”

  “Holden doesn’t seem bothered by any of that.”

  River turned to look out the window. “Maybe I’m just not brave enough.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.”

  Twenty minutes later, Lanie pulled into a town house complex and parked in a driveway. They entered one of the town houses.

  “This is your place?” River asked, looking around. It was small, neat, and utterly devoid of personal clutter.

  “I leased it after Kyle . . .” Lanie showed her the bathroom with a straight face and no sarcastic comment, saying only “I’ll be in the garage when you’re ready.”

  River met her out there five minutes later and stared in surprise at the boxes stacked against one wall. “What’s all this?”

  “Stuff I didn’t want to unpack when I moved.”

  “Why?”

  Lanie shrugged. “Didn’t feel like seeing any of it.”

  River nodded even though Lanie hadn’t looked at her. Then she asked a question she hadn’t thought to ask before now. “So how long were you with Kyle?”

  Lanie was squatted low before one of the boxes, and oh how River admired that easy, nimble athleticism. She couldn’t remember how long it’d been since she’d seen her own feet, much less been able to crouch low and tie her shoes.

  “Dated six months, married for five years,” Lanie finally said.

  River sucked in a shocked breath. “Five years?”

  “I know. Clearly, I was an idiot.”

  “Well, you weren’t alone there,” River said.

  Lanie gave a rough laugh. “Not exactly a consolation. And I was a bigger idiot than you.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way,” Lanie said and hesitated. “I believed him when he said he didn’t want to have kids, when clearly what he meant was that he didn’t want to have kids with me.” She didn’t look up, just kept her head down, and River felt sucker-punched by Lanie’s pain and humiliation. She opened her mouth to express her sorrow for Lanie, but at the tight, closed look on Lanie’s face she didn’t speak after all. And really, what could she say?

  Lanie gestured to a box. “This is it—this is the only box I have of Kyle’s; it came from his boss. I got rid of his clothes, and until I did that, I didn’t even realize how few of his personal effects I had. In hindsight, that should’ve been a glaring sign.” She shook her head. “I’ve not looked in here yet.”

  River still had to try. She needed the money. But damn, she had to pee again and plus she was hungry. And on top of that, her lower back was killing her, her feet were swollen—or so she assumed by how tight
her sandals felt—and the stretchy waistband on her capris was cutting into her. She wanted to lie down and close her eyes and not open them again until she won the lottery or labor was over, preferably both. “I’d like to look through it anyway.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  LANIE MANHANDLED THE box open, very aware of the fact that River stood above her holding her breath. From inside Lanie’s pocket her cell phone vibrated an incoming text. Probably Mark. He’d texted her during the drive, checking in on them. Ignoring him for the moment, she peered into the box.

  “What’s in there?” River asked tightly.

  “His cell phone.” Lanie pushed it to the side. “His wallet . . . empty of cash, of course.” She rifled through a file. “Work stuff.” She pulled out his work badge and a watch. And then a stack of five journals, each with a different name on the front. Stacy, Kendra, Brigit . . . Lanie flipped through them and stilled.

  “What?” River asked.

  “Nothing.” Heart pounding, she hurriedly tried to shove the journals back in the box, not wanting River to see.

  “No, stop.” Somehow River managed to drop to her knees and she had a death grip on Lanie’s wrist. “What is it? Come on, Lanie, you’re scaring me— Ohmygod,” she gasped when she caught sight of the last two journals, one labeled Lanie, the other River. “He was keeping journals on each of us?” She gasped again. “Are there . . . pictures? Like nude photos?”

  Lanie blinked. “You posed nude for him?”

  River bit her lower lip, looking panicked. “Once,” she whispered. “It was his birthday—”

  “Stop.” Lanie pressed her heels into her eyes. “I don’t want to know things that are going to implode my brain.”

  River grimaced and closed her eyes. “I’m never falling for a man again. Do you think I could become a lesbian?”

  “You can be anything you want, but to change teams, you’d have to give up Holden.”

  “He’s not mine to give up.”

  “Because his leave is about over and he has to go back? Or because you’re as screwed up as I am?”

  River suddenly doubled over and Lanie reached for her. “What? What is it, the baby?”

  “No. It’s just a cramp in my back.” She paused. “And maybe my heart. Dammit. His leave is up?”