“Shane and Greta, sitting in a tree,” Bo sing-songed from the passenger seat.
“Keep singing that song, Beauregard, and I will eject you from a moving vehicle,” Greta threatened without looking over. Bo burst out laughing.
“Take it easy, Gret. I'm happy for you guys. You make sense together.”
That's what she kept hearing.
Greta didn't respond as she rested her left wrist on the steering wheel and let her mind revisit the past fifteen minutes.
Shane had asked if the kiss equaled driving the Viper. What he didn't know, what she was having a hard time believing, was that it surpassed everything she'd ever experienced in her whole life.
Heart palpitations? Check.
Forgot her own name? Check.
World muddled? Check.
And she could also throw in tingly skin, loss of breath, and rendering the laws of time and space meaningless.
Plus, he hadn't shaved in several days now, and her face was a little raw from his whisker burn. That gave her a different kind of tingle. She secretly hoped he wouldn't shave ever again. His hair was dark brown, but she had never realized that his beard would come in so dark and full. It was lush. Shane Brookings could definitely rock a beard.
She made a mental note to ask him about his future beard plans later that night when they “talked.” With a quick glance at the clock, she started the countdown in her head to when she could expect that to be. Then she immediately scolded herself internally for turning into a mushy, over-zealous girly-girl who couldn't function until her boyfriend got off of work.
She took her wrist off the steering wheel, transferred that elbow to her open window and rested her head in her hand. This had gotten weird. Fast.
Her jeans tugged at the tender part of her tattoo, reminding her of the promise she had foolishly and flirtatiously made before leaving his office. Yep, she was in trouble.
Shane had indeed thrown the rules out the window. Her rules. Did he even have the power to do that? No, he was a boy, and he couldn't tell her what to do.
Wait a minute, her inner vixen corrected her. Shane is no boy. He is all man. Have you seen the beard?
She rolled her eyes. She didn't even know she had an inner vixen until this moment. What the hell was Shane doing to her?
Kissing you like his mouth was made to fit against yours.
“Shut up,” Greta snapped under her breath.
“I didn't say anything,” Bo responded.
Greta ignored Bo and turned into their driveway, seeing the Volvo immediately. That meant that Clarke was back. Good, she needed to talk to someone reasonable. Someone who would tell her what to do to regain control of this situation.
Ooh! Don't forget to tell her about that delicious swirl thing that Shane can do with his tongue!
Greta closed her eyes after parking the Jeep and rested her head against the steering wheel as Bo jumped out.
“Freaking balls.”
***
As if her world wasn't all topsy turvy to begin with, it got a whole lot more wiggy that afternoon.
Clarke and Mike were back from whatever adventure they had been on for however many days they were gone. (Greta had lost track, there was a lot happening in her own world.) But they were, like, besties beyond measure.
While this might seem good at first blush, seeing as how Greta had high hopes for Clarke and Mike's offspring being named after her in the future, it didn't look like it was going that way. They were friendly, they were adorable. They were too freaking comfortable. They'd friend-zoned each other. And pretty damn effectively from the looks of it.
It was unprecedented. Greta was never wrong when it came to her illustrious matchmaking capabilities. She excelled at picking out the perfect counterpart for the people in her life. She'd introduced Tate and Eddie, for Pete's sake! And they were practically a friggin' fairytale come true. If she had been wrong about Mike and Clarke, there was no telling what other signals she was mixing up.
Needless to say, this only helped to put Greta even more on edge. She didn't like the edge. She preferred a lounge chair next to a pool with some sort of pink fruity drink within reach while her skin soaked in the sun and her Kindle got the workout of its life. Or the alternative, which was base-jumping from said edge, flying dangerously into a free-fall hoping her chute had been packed correctly, but loving every single thundering heartbeat leading up to her pulling the ripcord. It was the control over her choices that she liked, whether it was relaxing or flying blind. Standing on the edge, without any idea which way she was going to head, was terrifying.
Then Steve came home from wherever he went during the day with no job and too much money, announcing that Bo had outed Greta and Shane's official status as a couple via mass text message while Greta and Shane had been making out in his office.
That was when Clarke decided to drag Greta upstairs for an immediate powwow, which Greta was guessing was not going to go her way.
Greta was thinking base-jumping was the way to go.
“You promised me that you would tell me the second something changed with Shane!” Clarke hissed as she whirled on her friend in the same instant that they hit Greta's room.
Greta closed the door with a small kick. “I was going to! But it just happened seven and half seconds ago!” she whisper-shouted back.
“Whatever! You don't go from being cautious friends to being a declared couple in the span of seconds!” Clarke gesticulated wildly at the end as if to prove her point.
“Apparently, we do!” Greta returned with similar fervor.
Clarke's back went straight and she frowned a bit. “Seriously?” she asked, her voice swinging to casual conversation.
Greta felt her eyes bug out slightly and she grabbed the top of her head with both hands. “Jeez, Clarke! You think I have any idea what's going on? One minute, I'm celebrating my verbal ass-kicking of Harmony Jeffords and the next, Shane has his tongue in my mouth!” She took a frantic breath and emphasized, pointing at her face with both hands, “His tongue in my mouth!”
Clarke's mouth twitched with humor. “What's that like?”
Greta sighed heavily before stalking across her room and starting an exasperated pace back and forth. “Amazing. No, it's fantastic. No, it's un-freaking-believable. But I have no idea what that even means! And you've been off gallivanting all over California with Mike Osborn while my life has been getting freakier and freakier all week. Brady made it clear that he was interested if this thing with Shane falls through. Whatever the hell that means! My co-workers seem to think it's hilarious to meddle in my personal life. Harrison told my mother that Shane was coming home for Christmas with me, and that was before Shane's 'Screw the Rules' speech and the Kiss That Launched a Thousand Fantasies! And on top of all that, I have Bo and Steve taking it upon themselves to keep the world updated on my relationship status. Hell, if I was interested in that, I'd just get a damn Facebook account!”
She ended her tirade breathing heavily and glaring at Clarke's highly amused face.
“I'm teaching Mike how to surf today. Why don't you suit up and come ride some waves with me, it might help put things in perspective,” Clarke offered soothingly.
“I can't,” Greta snapped and crossed her arms over her chest. Clarke threw her a confused frown. “I have to wait for the tattoo on my butt to heal first.”
This was the announcement that got Clarke to look shocked.
“A tattoo?! On your butt?!”
It was at this point that Greta realized they had shifted from whisper-shouting to full-on shouting and it was likely everyone in the house could hear them. And possibly the neighbors who lived two houses over. It really followed the pattern of Greta's life choices.
She could keep a tight hold on her shit for a while. At least up until it hit the fan. And it usually did so at a high velocity. It's not like the fan that it hit was some regular, boring oscillating desk fan that would sputter and die if one were to actually throw a pile of shit at it. No, Greta usually aimed for something akin to a plane propeller. Like that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the German mechanic thinks he's bested Indy but then gets chewed up by the propeller on the Egyptian airfield.
What a mess.
So Greta did what Greta did best, and she owned her mess.
“Yes, Clarke, I got a tattoo on my butt.” She turned her back while unzipping her jeans and yanked the gauze down with the waistband, showing the fresh and tender ink. “And out of all the things I shared with you, my best friend, that was what you chose to focus on first.” She righted herself, zipped her pants and turned around.
Clarke had one arm across her middle, the other arm up, her hand covering the smile she was desperately trying to fight.
“What about this is so funny?” Greta yelled. She swore that in the distance she heard deep, manly chuckles from downstairs.
Balls again.
“Oh, my sweet Greta girl, you are the funniest chick I know.” Clarke lost her fight with her smile and it spread across her face. At the same time, Clarke closed the distance between them and put both hands on Greta's upper arms, giving her a squeeze. “Let's get you sorted. Do we need to call Tate?”
Greta shrugged halfheartedly. “I'm thinking I don't have time, Shane is coming over after work. You're my only hope, Clarke.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Sort me out.”
So that's what they did. Well, that's what they tried to do, as best they could in the limited time-frame with Greta getting distracted and asking questions about Clarke and Mike's time spent in San Francisco.
Clarke's plans to go surfing with Mike had to be tabled, but Mike didn't seem to mind. Greta knew this because the boys came upstairs and convinced the girls to let them in and impart their own wisdom.
They sat around her room, the boys taking places along the wall while the girls sat on the edge of Greta's bed. Harrison, Mike and Steve were to Greta's left, while Bo sat more towards the right of the room, by the closet door. Brady wasn't home. Which Greta was thankful for, seeing as there was discussion about his “intentions” and it would have been awkward to have him there. None of the guys were surprised by Brady's interest. Clarke was, but she moved past it quickly.
It was decided that the co-workers meddling was a non-issue, everyone was put on Harmony-alert, the tattoo was discussed but not shown to anyone this time, though Harrison warned he would be holding that in his arsenal if he needed leverage over Greta with Ma.
They did not, however, discuss Shane. Harrison declared the subject off-limits.
“They need to sort that on their own. I have seen people who are made for each other waste a helluva lot of time not being together because they were too busy talking to everyone around them, and not talking to the one person they needed to talk to. And furthermore, I've seen too many well-intentioned friends give straight-up bad advice about a situation they know nothing about. Greta, you're a smart girl. I may not agree with your employment choices, or your lack of interest in finishing school, but I think you know your way around your heart better than any of us clowns.”
It was very sweet and made a little space in Greta's chest swell with warmth. Things like this were what made brothers like Harrison the greatest guys in the whole world. She suddenly forgave him for telling Ma about Shane.
“Just be open and honest with the guy. You can't go wrong.”
Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room as they took in Harrison's words. Even if they disagreed and wanted to impart some sort of hapless wisdom, there wasn't any time left. Because her bedroom door pushed open and Shane leaned against the doorjamb.
Greta tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone cotton dry.
“What's goin' on, guys?” Shane asked, his voice vibrating with what sounded like amusement.
“House meeting. You weren't invited,” Steve responded flatly.
Shane's mouth twitched, his eyes didn't leave Greta's. “You think I could steal Greta for a bit?”
Greta's stomach did a little flip. She cleared her throat, trying to work some moisture back into it.
“As long as you promise to have her home by curfew,” Steve replied, one eyebrow cocked warningly.
Greta rolled her eyes and stood, letting her eyes sweep through her friends and settle on her brother. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she hoped she communicated her thanks to him with her eyes. Then she joined Shane in the hallway.
“Where we going?” she asked, following him down the stairs to the front door.
“Someplace we can talk,” he replied easily, holding the door open for her. “And maybe make out a little bit.”
Greta grinned at her feet as she walked to the waiting Mercedes.
***
Harmony Jeffords narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses as she watched Shane Brookings open the door to his Mercedes and Greta O'Neil folded into the passenger seat.
Greta effing O'Neil.
Harmony had followed Shane from work to see if it was true and he really was dating that cheap trollop. She had the gate access code since her friend CeCe was banging a CEO in the neighborhood and she'd moved in over the weekend and had her girls over for drinks.
Harmony parked in a driveway a few houses down and waited. She didn't have to wait long before Shane left with his latest piece.
Normally, Harmony didn't care where he was sticking it, but her life had recently taken an unexpected turn and she was starting to get worried. About herself.
While things had been going along swimmingly with the good doctor, he just would not leave his stupid wife. In fact, they'd reconciled that week and he'd ended it with Harmony entirely. This was the third doctor she'd failed to hook and she was running out of time. She was going to be twenty-eight in a little under a year.
Harmony Jeffords and her sisters had been raised with one goal in life. To get a rich husband and pop out a couple kids, thereby solidifying their place and future financial stability. It's what their mom had done, it's what their aunts had done, it's what their grandmother had done. It's what the Jeffords women excelled at. Getting their hooks into wealthy men who wanted offspring.
But she had to get her ass in gear if she was going to make it happen. Her little sister had landed her very own pharmaceutical CFO just two months ago, her older sister had married a film producer three years ago and was getting ready to push out the first kid. And Harmony's mother, Ivy, had started to make it very clear what was expected of her middle daughter.
“You have your father's connections and my bone structure, we've done all we can for you.”
Harmony knew that if she didn't get engaged soon, she would be SOL. Because at twenty-eight, her credit cards would get cut off and they would stop paying for her condo.
She needed a husband to take over by then.
Shane's Mercedes backed out of the driveway and Harmony waited a few minutes before she left as well.
Shane Brookings was her safety pick. He had money, but he didn't come from money. And his circle of friends left something to be desired. He was always supposed to be the backup plan, she'd never imagined she would have to use it. She further had never imagined that Greta effing O'Neil would get there first.
She hated Greta. Even more after today. That bitch was a pain in Harmony's perfectly Pilates-toned ass.
She'd had her first run-in with her when Harmony was banging that doctor at the sports rehab clinic. What a waste of time that was. But Greta had actually walked in on them, and then had the audacity to act like it was the worst thing in the world. Please, like she was Little Miss Perfect.
Greta O'Neil was of the Boston O'Neils. While Harmony didn't know Greta personally, the Jeffords had had a long-standing hatred going against the O'Neils that involved land, love and money. Mostly they avoided them and the circles they traveled it. But, like all decent feuds, it was important to keep up on the information available to you about your enemy.
Harmony had clocked Greta's arrival to California the second she crossed the border. A cousin in Boston had called to inform her that Greta had tried, and failed, to get in with Cole Parker. He was wealthy, hot and ambitious. He had also married Jackie LaMonte a couple years ago. She was from a power family as well. They were a match made in rich-people heaven.
Apparently, Greta had thought she was going to score herself the top dog. Foolish girl, she aimed too high. Cole Parker was way out of her league and he wasn't stupid enough to divorce his wife. Rumor had it, they had signed an airtight pre-nup, and he'd lose most of his assets if she left him. Guess Greta hadn't really done her homework. She ended up leaving Boston, humiliated, and ended up in Harmony's territory.
Now she was dating Shane Brookings. That was just effing peachy.
Harmony pulled into the drive of her condo complex and reached for her cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts, found the right number and hit Send.
“Yeah.”
“It's Harmony.”
Silence.
“Jerry?” she snapped impatiently.
“Miz Jeffords,” he replied, not hiding his sigh, “what can I do for you?”
“I need you to dig up all you can on Shane Brookings and his business. I want to know everything. Who works for him, who he trusts, everything.”
“Miz Jeffords, your father has already said—” Jerry Stone started to speak, but she cut him off.
“I'm paying for this myself, I don't want my father to know about it.”
Another heavy sigh. “Okay, I'll call you in a few days once I have something.”
Harmony didn't bother saying goodbye before she disconnected.
***
Shane watched Greta's face as she laughed. Hard. It was probably one of his favorite things about her. One of her arms was pressing on her stomach as her other hand pushed her hair out of her face.
And then she snorted.
Seriously, too cute for her own good.
He'd taken her out to dinner at a little restaurant where the food was good but he knew they'd have a decent amount of privacy.
They agreed upon arrival that they would be honest and open about what they were thinking and feeling. A couple of beers later and she was laughing hysterically as he told her about his trip to New Zealand with Serge last year.
Whatever the rush had been to “talk” about important stuff, it seemed to disintegrate as they simply enjoyed being with each other.
She finally calmed her laughter, but her smile stayed put as she reached across the table and snagged one of his fries. He liked that about her. She wasn't afraid to steal his food. She'd done it nearly every time they were together. It told him that she was comfortable being herself around him. And he liked that a whole lot.
“Will you tell me why you fix guys?” Shane asked softly. Her smile faded slightly but it didn't leave her eyes.
“I told you, I'm good at it,” she answered gently, sitting back in her seat slowly.
Shane studied her face, wanting to get to the part where he knew her well enough to read her thoughts by her facial expressions.
“Tell me the rest,” he prodded quietly, nudging her foot under the table.
She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and then leaned forward on the table with her elbows. Taking a deep breath, her eyes got serious. “When I met Cole, I was working at a sports bar. He was a regular. After I had served him a couple of times, he started asking to be seated in my section. We became friendly, then we became friendly-er and he asked if he could make dinner for me sometime.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head down slightly. “I really should have been smarter, but he was good looking and he was nice to me, so like any hopeful girl, I ignored the obvious. We only saw each other at his apartment. He never took me out and he never came to my place. Then, one night, a woman came into the bar and asked for me.”
Shane's stomach tightened. He knew where this was going, but the extra details and her soft explanation were making him feel anger on her behalf.
“She wanted to thank me for helping her husband get through their separation.”
Shane's face must've registered the shock he felt ripple through him because Greta gave him a humorless smirk and nodded.
“Yeah, can you believe that shit?” She shook her head and looked at a point past his shoulder. “I guess, while I was busy falling for him and thinking he was falling for me, he was just taking what he needed from me to heal whatever emotional crisis he'd talked himself into. She credited me with saving their marriage.”
“So you packed your humiliated broken heart and headed for Cali.” Shane picked up her story where she left off. “You have radar for guys who are sad, 'cause he left that imprint on you. And for some reason, you think that's all you have to offer.”
Her blue eyes started to gloss over as she stared at him. Clearly his conclusion caught her by surprise. But it made so much sense to him now. He pushed out of his side of the booth and slid in beside her, twisting so they were face to face. He cupped her cheek with one hand and ran his thumb across her cheekbone.
“Thank you for telling me that,” he said quietly, watching his thumb's movement for a second before going back to her eyes, which were staring at him in shocked wonder. “I'm not hung up on Lucy and you need to know that.”
She drew in a sharp breath of air but didn't say anything.
“I let her go that night I talked to you about her. I don't want you to think that I'm thinking about anyone else when I'm with you.” His smiled at her gently. “I get why you want to go slow with this. Be as cautious as you need to be, babe. But I gotta tell you, you're safe with me.”
Then he lowered his head at a slant and kissed her long, slow and sweet.
By the time he pulled away, their waitress had returned with their ticket, and neither of them had even noticed.
Shane paid and then her grabbed Greta's hand. They went back to the car, then drove back to her house where they spent a few minutes kissing in the driveway before he left, promising to call her the next day.
He smiled all the way home.