Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“I do, Banks. Please.”
“Spread your legs nice and wide,” I tell her.
She pushes back on her elbows, lets go of my waist, then parts those beautiful thighs. That done, she looks up at me with big blue eyes full of passion and vulnerability.
And, I’m pretty sure, my future.
Emotion spreads through my chest, a deep sense of rightness. A potent hope for many days to come. I sink inside her, trembling at the feel of her and of us.
We move together in the dark, bodies tangling, skin sweating, hearts thrumming. She hooks her heels around me tight and pulls me deeper, even though I’m already so far gone.
It doesn’t take long for either of us, then we’re tumbling over the edge.
The next morning, I take the dog out, then I’m in and out of the shower in a flash. Ripley is next, the water pattering as I step over Hudson, who’s eagerly waiting for his human. I button my shirt and hunt for my phone. Do Not Disturb is still on from last night, and when I turn it off, a slew of text messages land like coins raining down in a slot machine.
A few from Dean.
A few from my sister asking, What’s going on?
One from Tabitha.
Unease rolls down my chest, but I don’t have a second to open the messages. As Ripley turns off the shower, there’s a knock on the door. With some concern, I head over, peer through the peephole, and tense.
It’s my partner. In Darling Springs. A day before our meeting.
43
TRUST YOUR GUT
BANKS
Ripley utters an oh when she sees Dean. She’s just come out of the bathroom in a tank top and shorts, rubbing a towel in her wet hair. Hudson barks, but he’s wagging his tail too. For all intents and purposes, this is an innocent scene. It’s no secret we’re sharing the cottage. Naturally, we’d both shower here.
Still, my first instinct is to lie. I can feel the false words climbing up my throat. She was just showering. That’s all.
The sentence jostles around in my mouth, and it feels all too easy to say. Briefly, I part my lips to utter the cover-up. Because she was just showering isn’t even a lie.
It’s true.
But in those few dangerous seconds where lies seem easy and truth slinks far, far away, I grow ashamed.
This is what my father did.
He lied for years about his nights, his days, his whereabouts. He built a second house of lies, and he slept in the king-size bed in the center of it all.
I’ve vowed to never be like him.
The fact that I even considered a lie makes my cheeks heat with red-hot shame as I meet the confused eyes of my business partner.
Dean Ortiz is six three and brawny, with a shaved head and inked vines snaking around the light-brown skin on his arms. He’s one of my closest friends, and I’ve known him for more than a decade—yet I feel like we’re worlds apart.
Since I’ve been fucking around and potentially harming the business we’ve built.
“Hey,” I say on a strangled breath. “What are you doing here?”
My business partner cocks his head, saying nothing, clearly trying to make sense of the scene before his eyes—the very domestic scene of Ripley and me in the morning, casual and comfortable in front of each other.
Ripley clears her throat. “I should go do…um…farm stuff. Yeah. That.”
Dean blinks again, then takes another beat, brow knitting, gesturing to the bed.
“I take it you didn’t get my text?”
Shit. I wince. “Is the Webflix meeting canceled?”
But why the hell would he come here today to tell me a meeting set for tomorrow had been canceled? Why wouldn’t he call?
“No. I texted you to tell you I was coming in early, Banks,” he says with an unusual emphasis on my name. “Figured it’d be good to see the movie set, say hi to the Ruby Horizons client, and catch up. I texted so you’d know I’d switched to an earlier flight.” He pauses. “But seems you have company.”
He says it pointedly and then waits, giving me an opportunity to explain. There could be a reasonable explanation. But there isn’t.
I can’t avoid it any longer, especially since Ripley says, “I was just leaving.”
A minute later, she and her dog hustle out, and it’s just me and the friend I’ve been lying to. Lies always catch up to you.
I shut the door, a pit widening in my stomach at the ominous click of the latch. Dean scratches his jaw as he stares at me like he doesn’t even know me. The silence stretches for years.
Time to man up. I meet his eyes and own this problem. “It’s what you think it is.”
Dean shakes his head, letting out a long, frustrated, “Fuuuuuck.”
Trudging to the couch, he sinks down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seriously? That is so risky, man.”