Chapter Eight

“Fact. Things are always better by moonlight. Want to get serious? Then step outside and look to the skies.” Blue Moon

Laney clutched at the violets in her left hand. Simon’s flower. Calm and grounding, just like Simon himself. They hardly had any scent, but she pressed her nose to them anyway, then pushed open the old wooden gate of the St. Clair cemetery.

Tilly was crouched over one of the graves, wearing an old pair of denim overalls. They’d belonged to her late husband, just like all of Tilly’s wardrobe, though she didn’t wear it for sentimental reasons. She’d just discovered men’s clothing was a lot more comfortable than any dress.

The opposite of me.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I shut the store early.” She put down the bucket of flowers she’d been carrying and hugged the funeral director. The pair of them often met there to tidy up the graves that no longer had visitors.

“Good to see you. And you too, Miss Violet,” Tilly said as the dog held up a paw. Tilly shook it. “Yes, you’re lovely, aren’t you?”

Violet barked in agreement, and Laney smiled. Her dog got on with everyone.

Correction. Almost everyone.

Violet had taken an instant dislike to Adam.

Was her dog trying to tell her something?

Laney kneeled at Sarah Walcott’s grave. She’d died in 1878, a widow whose husband had been lost in a storm.

Warm soil crumbled between her fingers as she picked a dandelion by the headstone. She didn’t often bother with gardening gloves, preferring to feel the earth under her nails. She pulled out a little spade from her satchel and dug deeper, turning the soil over and letting the rich scent catch in her nose.

Tilly emptied out a vase of dead flowers on Trevor Nelson’s plot. It would take them an hour, and the last grave would be Simon’s.

Her way of saying hello and goodbye to him at the same time.

“I bumped into Adam again.” Tilly plucked out five of the coneflowers Laney had brought and put them into the vase. “He’s very good-looking, in a panty-dropping kind of way.”

“What?” Laney sputtered and looked up. Was no one in this town immune to his charms?

“I’m not saying my panties dropped,” Tilly chattered on. “But I like him. He helped set up chairs for the memorial service I did out by the water.”

“That was kind of him.” Laney rocked back on her heels, not really surprised. Adam seemed happy to oblige everyone in St. Clair. Even me.

She shut her eyes. It was one thing to fight the attraction that was still there, but it was harder to fight the reminders that he wasn’t actually the monster she’d made him out to be.

Her chance encounter with him at Beckett Hill the other day had only emphasized the problem. He’d seemed so genuinely interested in her business. And then he’d talked about Blue Moon. That he felt like a fraud. There had been genuine pain there, and she got the feeling he didn’t share that story with many people.

And somehow it happened. They’d become trapped in a time warp. One where she’d longed for him to push back the straps of her sundress. To kiss her burning skin. To give her something that had been missing in her life.

It had been so real. Like a solid, pulsing thing instead of just her fevered imagination. And it had almost made her forget their history.

“All set for Oliver Miles’s ceremony on Tuesday?” Tilly dragged her weed mat to the next grave.

“I haven’t forgotten.” She purposely didn’t take on too many weddings because she liked to be available for any funerals that needed her. Brides had months and sometimes years to plan what they wanted. But no matter how quickly or slowly death came, it was always a surprise, and there was never enough time.

By three o’clock, they’d finally finished.

She’d spent extra-long at Simon’s grave. There had been a small bunch of bluebells. Jessica had obviously been there during the week.

Her fingers trailed the top of the headstone. The marble was warm from the heat of the day, and, as always, she pretended it was his hand in hers.

Warm, strong, alive.

Not cold, stiff, and gone.

Violet rubbed her head against Laney’s leg, as if knowing what was happening. She gave the dog a grateful smile. “Thanks, darling,” she murmured as they walked back to the car.

…

“More coffee?”

“Always.” Adam pushed his cup forward, and Patsy poured out the rich, dark liquid from the jug.

“How’s the book going? It’s hard to tell if you’re writing or randomly typing the same word over and over again,” she said. She had short hair, deep chocolate eyes, and the ability to cut through nonsense.

“Done that more than once,” he admitted, thinking of the months when he’d been stuck in his apartment just moving his fingers over the keyboard, somehow hoping ideas would magically appear. Usually it resulted in a string of words that weren’t PG. “But this time, it’s actually a story. I’ve been wondering what the secret is. Must be your coffee.”

“I’m just the one who pours it. Not up to me how you taste it,” she said with a wink and sashayed away. Adam rubbed his chin. Did he just get coffee and Yoda-like advice at the same time?

He took a deep sip, and the fatigue lifted. He’d stayed up half the night writing again. He only had five chapters to go. His editor had called, raving about the sample and updating him on the release date. The designers had started on the cover, and sales and marketing were going nuts.

Relief flooded him. After his last two books had tanked, he knew that most people had written him off. Me included. So to find himself back in this position again wasn’t something he took lightly.

“Here you go. The big day is in two weeks.” Jacob Carmichael loomed over him and thumped a flyer down on the table.

“Big day?”

“Yup. You’re looking at the new owner of Tom’s Gym.”

“That’s great,” Adam said, not sure who the old owner was. Tom, maybe?

“Sure is. I’m getting married next year, so I figured it’s time to start getting serious about things,” he said as a group of guys walked into the diner. Jacob slapped him on the back. “I’d better go, but don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” He pocketed the flyer and took a hit of coffee.

“Hey, Doctor Josh. Hope I’m not interrupting,” a guy with brown spiked hair and pale hazel eyes said. Carl? Without the tears and the manic sobbing, he looked different. Better. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure.” He shut the laptop and nodded to the seat across from him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Stupid. I just wanted to say thanks for the other night. I made an ass of myself.”

“Love makes us do weird things. Though it’s probably not me you need to apologize to.”

“Already done. I called Laney yesterday. She was really sweet.”

Agreed.

Was that why I told her the truth about the damn book?

He took another gulp of coffee and tried to school his face into not looking like he was losing his grip.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Proposing.” Carl took a small box out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table.

“You’re a nice guy, but we hardly know each other.” Adam slid it back. Carl blinked.

“Oh. Right. That was a joke.”

“Apparently, not a very good one.” He took another sip of coffee. It wasn’t always a good idea to talk to people when he’d been writing. Strange things came out of his mouth. “Have you spoken to Giselle yet?”

Carl’s face turned bright pink, and he nodded. “Yeah. She lives in Clamshell Bay, but her folks are here in St. Clair, and they heard about the blind date. Giselle wasn’t happy. But turns out that’s what made her realize she still loves me. The makeup sex was amazing. I mean, I’m talking really, really great.”

“Good for you.” Adam forced himself to give Carl a thumbs-up, if only to ensure he didn’t go into more detail. It wasn’t the first time someone had shared their love life with his unwanted alter ego, but it never got easier. Or less awkward.

Carl beamed. “So, now I want to propose again. But this time it has to be perfect. I figured you could give me some tips. I mean, the chapter in the book when you proposed—the Grand Canyon, the hot air balloon—hell, I would have said yes to you.”

“Yeah. Totally epic.” Adam studied the table. It was a common conclusion that the proposal chapter in Blue Moon had been ripped from his own life. While he and Eloise had been married in New York, just like in the book, the proposal had included a lot more vodka and fewer grand gestures.

But she’d said yes.

Of course, then she’d said no and married his brother, but that was for a Freudian book, not something he wrote.

Not to mention the irony of giving dating advice when his own love life resembled the Sahara Desert.

“What should I do?” Carl’s eyes were shining as he took out his phone and brought up a Venn diagram. “I’ve got some ideas, but—”

“We don’t need that.” Adam shook his head, and Carl put down the phone. “If you two are just getting back on track, why not give it some time?”

“Nope.” The mild-mannered schoolteacher sounded assertive. Assured. “I love her, doc. I want to spend every day with her. Build a life together. I’m tired of waiting for things to be perfect and right. When we’re apart, everything is just…empty.”

I’m such a fraud.

Who was he to give advice? Clearly, Carl knew more about love than he ever would. Even his brother knew more. And Ryan was the guy who’d once eaten a plastic fork to impress a girl.

“Take Giselle to your favorite place, somewhere special to you both, and tell her what you told me. It’s much more heartfelt than a hot air balloon.”

“Really?” Carl looked skeptical.

“Really,” Adam assured him. “But promise me one thing.”

“Sure, what’s that?”

“No diagrams. No props. Just tell her about the life you want to live with her.”

“Thanks, Doctor Josh.” Carl slipped the ring box back in his pocket and stood up. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“You do that.” Adam drained his coffee, unwanted energy racing through him. Time for another run.

…

“You just missed her. She’s gone into town for bananas,” Brett said on Saturday afternoon.

“Bananas?” Laney raised an eyebrow. “Are they the new olives?”

“More like a companion.” His face wrinkled in disgust, but his eyes were glowing. She’d always had a special bond with Jessica’s husband. Maybe because they’d both been married to twins who sometimes got lost in their own secret world.

“Soon we’ll be meeting this olive-and-banana-loving little human she’s making.” Laney gave his fingers a squeeze. “Don’t let me stop you from working. I’ll do some weeding.”

“You’re as bad as my wife, always on the go. You could sit down and put your feet up,” Brett said.

“I will when I get home,” she promised and walked out of the reception area to the myosotis bush she’d planted a few years ago, before Simon’s diagnosis. Tiny blue flowers peeked at her as a shout of voices rang out as she rounded the corner.

Violet raced ahead to investigate. It was probably just kids playing on the stretch of green lawn that ran along the back of the building.

“Come on, Violet, there’s nothing to see here—”

Her jaw dropped, and she came to a halt.

A dozen or so kids were running around, chasing a giant of a man holding onto a football. Ryan. He was stripped down to a pair of shorts, and his chest rippled with muscles. He gracefully dodged the kids and threw the ball in the other direction. The kids immediately swung around like a school of fish and charged after it.

Toward Adam.

Delicious waves of warmth flooded her belly.

When she’d seen him in the woods, he’d been wearing jogging shorts and a sweat-soaked T-shirt. And then his hand had touched hers and she’d been swept away. Trapped in a magnetic pull that had left her breathless. She’d spent the rest of the day reminding herself why it was a bad idea.

Today there was no shirt.

Oh, boy.

His shoulders were broader than she’d remembered, with a chiseled chest, and his flat stomach was—

Veto.

She turned away. Her itch would just have to make do with watching repeats of Thor. She focused on Ryan, who came rushing back toward the kids as Adam threw the ball. Small voices hollered as the horde tackled him to the ground.

“Whoops.” Adam jogged over to his brother, who was buried underneath a pile of arms and legs. “Sorry about that pass.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Ryan’s discombobulated voice rose up from somewhere under the swarming children. Then a hand appeared. “Get me out of this mess or I’ll show everyone photos of the time you tried to—”

“No need to play dirty,” Adam protested and grabbed the hand. “Okay, kids. Remember Ryan’s an old man now. We have to be gentle with him.”

The kids laughed and clung to Ryan’s giant arm as he emerged from the pile just long enough to drag Adam down with him. More childish screams of delight erupted, and the two men were buried.

“My life with the Fitzpatrick brothers.” A stunningly beautiful woman walked toward her.

Eloise.

At five ten with curves that went on for days, she could have been a Cold War spy sent to infiltrate men and find their deepest, darkest secrets. Ebony hair framed her porcelain skin and full red lips.

“They are great with kids.”

“Probably because they haven’t grown up. The biggest pair of man boys I’ve ever met.” Eloise gave a delicate flick of her hair.

“Oh.” Laney blinked.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the way I am,” the other woman assured her with an arch of her perfect eyebrows. “Eventually you might even find it charming.”

“I see,” Laney said. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’ve long wanted to meet the infamous Nina.”

The heat of the day faded, and a low buzz rang in her ears while the earth seemed to move under her feet.

Did she say Nina?

She shut her eyes to wait until the dizziness passed. All this time, and it had finally happened. Why was she even surprised he’d lied? After all, the whole book had been a lie. It’s what he did for a job. And I believed him.

She braced herself for the contempt to come. But when she prized her lashes open, Eloise was still standing there, studying her with a frank expression on her beautiful face.

“He said no one knew,” she whispered. Her stomach clenched. Who else had he told?

“Darling, I’m hardly no one.” Eloise patted Laney’s arm. “Let’s go inside. I’m hot, pregnant, and not in the mood for watching two goofballs throw things at each other.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. While she’d hoped to never see Adam again, she’d always known there was a slender chance it might happen. But until a few days ago, she never thought she’d be talking to the woman who inspired Nina’s literary counterpart, Elle. Beautiful, perfect, spontaneous Elle.

“We can sit in the main house. I’ll get you a cold drink.”

“Sounds delightful.” Eloise tucked her arm into Laney’s, and they walked there in unison. Violet, tired of watching the screaming kids, happily followed them and curled up in the basket Jessica kept for her at the end of the reception desk.

Eloise settled into a thick cane chair, and Laney stepped into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of locally made lemonade. She pinched some fresh mint leaves from a jar on the counter and picked up two glasses.

“This’ll cool you down.”

“I swear, if I wasn’t married to Ryan, I’d be snatching you up.” Eloise slowly poured the lemonade into the glass and took a delicate sip, somehow turning the simple task into the equivalent of a Dita Von Teese show. No wonder Adam and Ryan had both fallen for her. She ran a manicured nail along the glass and gave Laney a coy smile. “If you must know, Adam didn’t intend to tell me. I just happen to have certain…skills…at extracting information.”

After seeing her drink lemonade, Laney didn’t doubt it.

“You used sex.”

Eloise let out a throaty chuckle. “Sometimes. But Adam isn’t like most guys. He doesn’t always think with the lower part of his body. I used a more direct approach. Tequila, hysterics, and starting a kitchen fire. I doubt he remembered it.”

“A kitchen fire?” Laney quirked an eyebrow.

“Telling me who you were,” Eloise corrected with a satisfied smile. “He said your name was Laney Litchfield, and when your sister-in-law mentioned you the other day, I did some discreet digging. Don’t look so alarmed. Your secret’s safe.”

Laney shut her eyes. If she said thank you, Eloise might guess how important it was to her no one knew. But if she didn’t say something, Eloise might think she didn’t care. The wicked webs we weave…

“I appreciate it,” she finally answered.

“It’s as much for Adam’s benefit as anything. He’s been stubbornly silent on the matter, and since I wasn’t exactly the ideal wife for him, it’s the least I can do. I’m actually relieved to find you.”

“Why?” Laney asked before she could stop her herself.

“When he didn’t come back to L.A. after Ryan told him about the baby, we were worried he might have done something—” She broke off and took a deep breath. “We were concerned. But now that we’re here, it’s obvious what the appeal is.”

Yes! Laney’s itch did a fist pump. She ignored it.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. He’s only here for work.”

“You really are the sweetest thing. I can see why he wrote a book about you.” Eloise leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair back from Laney’s shoulder.

“Sweet is the last thing Adam thinks about me.”

“Try not to be too mad at him. Adam really was clueless about how the book would be received. Suddenly, everyone treated him like a love expert rather than a sportswriter.”

She stiffened. His admission that he felt like a fraud. The way he’d flinched when people called him Doctor Josh. It’s really true.

And he’d tried to keep her identity secret. Even from his own wife.

The thought teased her mind as the brothers walked through the reception doors. Ryan’s face was more striking, but Adam’s eyes were a deeper blue and had a serious gleam his older brother lacked.

He had a T-shirt in his hands, but at the sight of Laney, he quickly thrust it on.

Boo, her itch muttered.

“Should I be alarmed?” he said in a calm voice, at odds with his tight-lipped smile.

“Relax. Laney’s just been telling me about the history of St. Clair.” Eloise fluttered her lashes at him while Laney focused on creating a doorway to another realm. Or a hole in the ground. Either would be fine.

“See, I told you everyone was friendly here.” Ryan sat down next to Eloise, seemingly oblivious to any underlying tension. He slung a giant arm around her shoulder and dragged her close. She squirmed as if in protest about his sweaty naked skin, then sank back against his chest. They were nothing alike. He was a mountain of charm and good looks, and she was all curves and sophistication. Exotic and expensive. But when she pressed against him, something in her eyes changed. She really did love him.

Despite herself, Laney smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Adam’s shoulders were rigid as he took the armchair.

“Nothing,” she quickly said. Does he think I’m laughing at their relationship? She flushed and tried to think of something to cover her lapse. She turned back to Eloise, whose pale, slender arm brushed against Ryan’s face. “I just figured out what your flower is. Orchids.”

A delighted smile spread across Eloise’s mouth, and her eyes gleamed. “Aren’t you full of hidden skills. I’m impressed. They’re my favorites. Now if you could get my beautiful meathead to remember, I’d love you forever.”

“If you have any complaints, then you need to—” Ryan broke off and whispered something in her ear. Eloise tilted her head and gave him a deep kiss in answer to whatever he’d said. She languidly turned back to Laney with a wolfish smile.

“What kind of flower is Adam?”

Laney clamped her lips together before she could speak. She had no idea if Ryan also knew about her past with Adam, but she certainly didn’t want to bring it up.

“It must be an X-rated flower,” Ryan said in delight, then scratched his chin. “Is that even a thing?”

“No, I just…I haven’t got one for him yet. It took me a year to figure out my college roommate’s flower. Though sometimes it’s easy. You’re a tulip.”

“Hear that, baby?” He purred in Eloise’s ear. “I’m a tulip.”

“Yes, you are.” She swiveled around to face him, her perfect manicure grazing his cheek. Ryan let out a whimper, and this time, when they kissed, it didn’t stop. Laney looked away.

“They do that a lot. We could just go. They’d never notice,” Adam said.

“Finally, you’re showing some sense,” Eloise murmured as Ryan scooped her up in his arms like she was a fragile porcelain doll.

“Excuse me, folks. There are a few things I need to discuss with the mother of my child.” He paused to wink at them before striding away.

“And that is Ryan and Eloise,” he said as they disappeared into their cottage. “The spokespeople for Inappropriate Behavior When You Least Expect It.” He pinched the top of his nose, as if trying to get rid of something painful. “You might as well hit me with it.”

“Hit you with it?”

“Eloise doesn’t specialize in chitchat, which means she told you something about me. That I talk to the television when I play Dark Souls? That I eat Cheetos while I’m writing? That I—”

“She called me Nina.”

Adam swore under his breath, his jaw tightening.

So, he really hadn’t known. It shouldn’t comfort her, but it did.

Which could be a problem.

“I don’t know what to say. I swear I’ve never told anyone. Eloise included.” He leaned forward. There were smudges of purple under his eyes, making him look tired. Too much writing? Her fingers twitched, and she fought back the urge to touch his skin. Then he looked up, his piercing blue eyes trapping hers. They were fringed with dark lashes and clouded with worry.

Like it mattered what she thought.

She sucked in a shaky breath.

“I believe you. Apparently, she got it out of you when you were drunk. There was a kitchen fire.”

“I should have guessed.” He massaged his temples as something rippled across his face. “Welcome to my marriage. If it’s any consolation, I know she might seem like a loose cannon with a complicated moral code, but she’d never go public with it.”

“I think you’re right. She said she owed it to you. Because of Ryan.”

“But not because she set the kitchen on fire…hence the tightrope that is my ex-wife,” he said, then let out a bark of laughter. “You’re probably the last person who wants to hear that. I take it you do have a flower for me. Let me guess. Wolfsbane. Pokeweed. Poison ivy. Cactus.”

“I’m taking the fifth.” She dipped her head, not sure whether to be amused or alarmed that he knew her well enough to guess. “Was it difficult? The divorce?”

“More awkward than difficult. Admitting what you thought was love turned out to be something less epic—” He looked away, voice resigned. “Eloise insists she only slept with Ryan so I would finally accept that the relationship was over. I wasn’t joking about being a slow learner.”

“I’m sorry. I thought that nothing happened between them until…” She trailed off, daring to meet his gaze. His clenched jaw and haunted expression suggested it hadn’t been as easy as he made it out to be.

“That version made for better PR. Truth is, we hadn’t been happy for quite some time.”

Despite herself, Laney leaned forward.

In the book, he’d accused Nina of not taking a risk on the relationship until it was too late. That had always stung, since he was the one who left. She’d been right not to trust him to stay with her. Not to hurt her.

But he’d stayed with Eloise, even when it hadn’t been good.

He’d been the one to get hurt. And they were still friends. More than friends. Family. He even seemed happy about the fact they were having a baby.

I misjudged him.

“It must have been difficult.”

“Ironic, isn’t it? I wasn’t spontaneous enough for her. I guess this is your karma moment,” he said, though there was no malice in his voice.

Her heart rammed in her chest.

Did he think she was gloating that he’d been hurt?

“That’s not what I meant. I was mad at you, but I never wanted you to be unhappy. The fact you’re still so close to them is…impressive.”

“We’ve had our ups and downs, but they’re my family. I’d rather have them in my life than out of it.”

“I get what you mean,” Laney said, thinking of Jessica. She couldn’t imagine a world without Simon’s sister. “I liked them. Though it was surreal to talk about Nina with Eloise. It’s not something that’s ever happened.”

“Not even with your husband?” he said, his eyes once again trapping hers. Shame crept along her skin, combined with annoyance that she’d slipped up. She didn’t want to talk about Simon with him. Or admit that she’d kept secrets. Besides, it wasn’t a secret, exactly; she just hadn’t wanted to ruin the happiest time in her life by dragging up the past.

And… There had been a little part of her that was worried he might have believed she really was like the fictional Nina. That it might have somehow tainted what they had. She’d lied by omission.

“It didn’t come up,” she said in a light voice. She was saved from further probing when Violet, who’d been asleep in her basket, woke up and started to bark.

“It’s okay, girl. I’m playing nice,” he said and turned to Laney. “Your dog really, really doesn’t like me.”

“She’s just protective,” she said as Violet walked over, still keeping an uncertain eye on him. Then he flinched and let out a groan.

“Hell, I’d forgotten about that thing. No wonder Violet’s still so pissed at me.”

“What?” Laney wrinkled her nose before turning to see what had captured his interest. Oh.

The blue sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry about that. I had no idea you were related when Jessica asked me to sign it.” Lines radiated out around his jaw. Either he was the world’s best actor or he really meant it.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Jessica’s thrilled. I don’t mind,” she said, and the truth of the statement hit her. For so long she’d carried the burden of the book alone, and even though it was Adam’s fault, it was still a relief to be able to talk about it out in the open. A relief to stop pretending I’m something I’m not.

“I’m not sure I deserve you to be as understanding as you are. About everything. About me being here.” The smile disappeared, replaced by a serious line. Like what she thought mattered. Her palms prickled as an overwhelming sense of loneliness swelled up. How long had it been since she’d talked like this to someone?

Stop it. I’m not lonely. I have everything I need.

She sucked in a shaky breath.

“Paige and her book club would never forgive me if I was the reason the great Adam Fitzpatrick never finished his long-awaited novel,” she said as Violet gave another sharp bark.

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” He stood up, treating her to the full expanse of his body. Her eyes raked over him, taking in the faint layer of sweat and the raised color in his cheeks. His square jaw was softened with a hint of a smile.

It was so familiar.

He was so familiar.

She was twenty when they’d first met. They’d been at a party, and he’d literally crashed into her as a fight had broken out. His arms had caged around her as they both fell to the floor. When she looked up, she’d found herself staring up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

The spark had been instant, and all Laney had wanted to do was press her mouth to his. To wrap her arms around his neck and breathe him in.

Nothing’s changed.

She shakily stood up. He was only a few feet away.

Does he feel it, too?

He tilted his head as if studying her, a curious expression in his eyes. Invisible threads that connected her to him seemed to tug her forward. Violet gave a little yip and went racing out the front door just as Jessica’s car pulled in.

Laney stepped back, heart ramming into her chest.

“I’d better let you get on with your day,” he said. “Big plans for tonight?”

“Sort of.” Truth was that she and Violet would do their nails and watch television. “It’s the Spring Fling fundraiser tomorrow.”

“I’ve seen the posters but couldn’t decide if it was a carnival or a parade.”

“A little bit of both.”

“I’m intrigued. I might swing by after I take the lovebirds to the airport. Just to make sure they get on the plane.”

“You should. It’s the quickest way to earn brownie points in St. Clair,” she said, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them. She groaned. Had she learned nothing from their most recent encounter?

“Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” He gave her a small nod and jogged out the door, taking his near-naked man body with him. The scent of cedarwood washed over her, and the sweep of loneliness tried to rush back in. She pushed it away. It was just a memory of the past. It had nothing to do with her now.

Violet hurried after him, barking as Adam crossed the parking lot. He stopped and nodded at Jessica, then climbed into his car and drove away.

She leaned back against the counter as Violet reappeared, her huge chocolate eyes filled with outrage. At least one of them didn’t have a problem remembering why they were mad at him.