She reached for her water and took a long drink, trying to tamp down the infiltrating thoughts. She didn’t have time to sit here and worry. She needed to focus. Work. That was what had saved her in the first place. That was what she was good at.
Texting with Finn was a fun distraction—a really fun distraction—but her life wasn’t set up to be away every weekend.
She leaned back in her squeaky office chair and sighed. Lying to herself wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
Yes, she was busy. Her job was important to her. But she was also scared.
Really freaking scared.
She’d avoided anything to do with Long Acre for so long that this felt like charging into the fire without protection. She wouldn’t be in her hometown, but she’d be right by it. She’d be with high school friends. She’d pick up her camera for the first time in forever. She’d be with Finn.
Nerves rippled over her, making her hands tremble.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat and glanced down at her phone, reading through the conversation Finn had started with her over lunch today.
Finn: Got all the rats & pestilence out of the pool house. It *could* be haunted, but I doubt the spirits mean any harm.
Liv: So if I visit this weekend, I get 2 B a woman in a gothic horror novel? Do u have a sick recluse I’m supposed 2 take care of? Or maybe a child that stares at me & doesn’t talk?
Finn: A recluse. But I’m not sick.
Liv: Just ur sense of humor?
Finn: Yes, that’s definitely sick
Finn: So is my guest going 2 B checking in?
Liv: Preston’s back later today, have 2 make sure he doesn’t need me this weekend.
If only she could feel as breezy and confident as she appeared in her texts. She sighed and glanced toward her boss’s office. Preston still wasn’t back from his meetings, and she had a feeling she knew what he was going to say anyway. He wasn’t going to give her a pass on finishing this project. If it wasn’t done by the end of the day tomorrow, she’d be expected to work on it over the weekend.
So she had two choices: use that as an excuse for Finn, or bust her ass to get her work done and go to Wilder.
Her fingers moved over her phone screen.
Liv: U sure u still want me there? Seems like ur doing OK now.
The words glared back at her from the screen, calling her a coward as she waited for Finn’s response. A few minutes passed before her phone vibrated again.
Finn: There’s no obligation. I told u that. But u weren’t coming just for me.
She sighed.
Liv: Stop pointing out true things
Finn: I’ll try to lie more
Liv: OK. Sorry. Will let u know what my boss says.
Another minute passed before his response came.
Finn: U don’t have to do this, u know. I want u here, but if ur not ready, I get it. The last thing I want to do is force or guilt u into something. U can say no. I’m not going to hold it against u.
She stared at the words, at the easy permission. You can say no. You can walk away. You can go back to your life and forget this happened. You were doing just fine. Why mess it up?
She put her head in her hands and groaned.
“Hey, Ms. Moreno, you okay?”
After Finn calling her Arias for the last few days, the surname she’d used for years suddenly sounded odd to her ears. Ms. Moreno. Her mother’s maiden name, not hers. She lifted her head, finding one of the interns eyeing her with concern. She forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, Skye. It’s just been a long week.”
Skye winced. “Then maybe I shouldn’t tell you that Mrs. Gill is here and she wants to chat with you in person about more changes.” She glanced over her shoulder and then lowered her voice. “She brought color swatches for the redesign, and they are fugly.”
“Fantastic.” Liv pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bring her back.”
Skye nodded and hurried off.
Liv glanced at her phone, at the message glaring back at her. She should respond to Finn. She owed him that.
But she had no idea what to say.
chapter
ELEVEN
Finn jolted awake, the buzz of his vibrating cell phone loud against the coffee table, and his computer almost sliding off his lap to the floor. He got a grip on it, cursing, and moved it out of the way before sitting up.
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the fuzz in his head, and glanced at the clock above the television. Almost one in the morning. Messages at that time never brought good news. He reached for the phone and saw this one was from Liv.
Liv: Are u uninviting me, Finn Dorsey?
Finn let out a breath, the fogginess from sleep fading quickly with the sight of Liv’s name on the screen. She’d never responded after his message earlier today. He’d figured that’d been answer enough. But now…
Was he uninviting her? He had, sort of. He could feel her stress and had relieved her of the obligation. If she didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want her to feel guilty about it. She didn’t owe him anything.
Finn: U seem 2 B buried at work. Didn’t want this to interfere.
There was a long pause, and he wondered if he’d lost his signal, but finally the dots indicating an incoming response appeared on the screen.
Liv: Have a project I must wrap up. But if the invitation stands, I can be there by late afternoon Sat., stay Sunday & take vacation Monday. If it doesn’t stand, I’m calling ur mom & telling her how rude her son is & I’m calling ur boss to tell him u lied.
His lips twitched. She had no idea how to contact Billings, but he didn’t put it past it her to give it her best shot. Dear Someone Named Billings at the FBI, Finn Dorsey is a dickhead.
Finn: The welcome mat is still out. I’ll even order pizza to celebrate ur arrival.
Liv: Fancy.
Finn: If u want fancy, I’ll add hot wings to the order
Liv: If u don’t add hot wings AND beer, ur doing it wrong.
He chuckled, and the sound echoed through the silent living room.
Finn: Noted. So it’s OK to take off Monday?
There was another long pause.
Liv: Should be. Unless that’s not cool w/ u. I don’t want to interrupt grumpy recluse time.
A ripple of warmth spread through him, catching him off guard with its potency. Two and a half days with Liv.
Finn: Works for me. I have the rest of the week 2 B a grumpy recluse.
Liv: U should start growing ur beard out now. No self-respecting recluse would walk around w/ just scruff.
Finn: I’ll work on it
Liv: Sorry if I woke u. I thought u’d have ur phone off & would get the message in the morning.
Finn: I was working late too.
Liv: Ur not supposed 2 B doing that. Clearly, u need me there to keep u in check.
Finn glanced at his laptop. Imagined it was Liv sitting there instead. Didn’t hate the idea.
Finn: Ur right. I can’t be trusted.
Liv: No more work. Go get some sleep. I’ll see u Saturday & I’ll bring the beer.
Finn: Deal.
They ended the chat, and something restless settled inside Finn, like a sleepy dog that had been turning in circles and had finally lain down. It was done. She would be here this weekend. Now he just had to figure out how not to fuck it up.
* * *
On Saturday morning, Liv flexed her fingers against the steering wheel and tried to will away the impulse to turn the car around and head back the other way. She’d never gotten a chance to talk to her boss, but late Thursday night after listening to Mrs. Gill wax on about all the changes she wanted, Liv had hit a wall. She needed a break. She deserved one. And she decided she wasn’t going to let the fear keep her chained to her desk for another weeken
d when Finn, the lake, and her camera were waiting for her.
So she’d worked a long day on Friday and had let Preston’s assistant know she wouldn’t be in this weekend and was taking a vacation day on Monday. Then, she’d bailed without waiting for official approval. She had a glut of vacation days. She should be able to use them. But breaking the rules had dumped an edgy dose of adrenaline into her blood. It was something old Liv would have done. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Either way, she was really doing this. Taking a risk. Not just staying with Finn, but all of it—taking her camera out, exposing herself to memories she’d locked away in her past, putting her job stuff aside when she really should be working all weekend.
Go, me.
Liv rolled her shoulders and took in the passing scenery, watching the land swell and ebb in the rolling terrain of the Hill Country. Long Acre had gotten its name because it occupied a flat piece of land tucked into an otherwise hilly part of Texas. That kept the tourists out for the most part: Yawn, flat land. But it gave the residents the option of affordable housing still within commuting distance of Austin, albeit an inconvenient hour commute. And it gave the more well-off folk access to lake houses in nearby Wilder for the weekends and summer. It had been a best-kept secret. Until it was national news. Then no one wanted to move there at all. Like the town had caught the tragedy disease and was now bound to have another, so must be avoided.
Stupid.
Signs for Wilder Lake appeared, and Liv took the exit. The businesses switched from national chains to the more eclectic—an odd mix of rustic home-style restaurants, gas stations advertising Fresh Kolaches, and hipster joints (Vegan! Farm-to-Table! Tapas!) that proved the Austin weekend getaway crowd still rolled through here on their way to the sexier tourist stops. Mixed in were the essentials—a small grocery store, a bait-and-tackle shop, and a liquor store.
This was the area the wealthier kids used to head off to on weekends. Parties at parents’ lake houses. Bonfires on the shores. Skinny-dipping. Getting drunk and camping under the stars. Far enough out that you felt like you’d escaped town, but really only a short car ride away. Liv had visited Wilder a lot growing up but had only been to one lake party in high school. Her sophomore year, she’d tagged along with a girl from her art class and had promptly regretted the decision when the girl had disappeared with her boyfriend and left Liv on her own with nothing to do and easy access to Jell-O shots.
Liv had gone on a drunken walk to get away from the heat of the bonfire and had stumbled upon one of the Let’s go find someplace more quiet spots. That’d been the first time she’d seen Finn outside of school. He’d been laid out on a couple of beach towels, a senior girl draped on top of him. The girl’s hands were up Finn’s shirt, and Finn’s fingers were in her hair. Making out like the other person owed them their air.
Liv’s head had been swimming already, but seeing that, she’d just stopped and stared. She hadn’t gotten past the awkward-kiss stage with any guy by that point, so the whole scene had seemed scandalous—but oddly fascinating. She’d had the urge to photograph it, all those angles and curves and hands. Until the girl caught Liv watching and called her a freak. Liv had apologized and had fallen down while trying to hurry away. Even in her drunken state, she’d known she’d broken some major social rule.
She’d hoped to escape unscathed. Everyone was drinking. No one would remember. But it wasn’t meant to be. Finn had come after her, asking if she was all right. He’d found her bent over, vomiting in the bushes. Fun times.
But he’d held her hair. Like they were friends. Like he cared.
She hadn’t been able to say a damn thing to him beyond a mumbled thanks, but she’d never forgotten the kindness.
Liv shook off the memory, ignoring the pang it caused in her gut, and turned on her blinker to take the exit that would lead to the lake. The main drag of shops and restaurants disappeared in the rearview. Next stop: Finn’s. A knot of tension gathered between her shoulders as the road narrowed and trees tangled above.
When she rounded a curve, the lake came into view, glittering like cut glass from the late-afternoon sun. A few birds were diving into it to find their dinner. But the bucolic scene did nothing to calm Liv’s nerves.
When she saw the address on the mailbox, she turned into the driveway of an impressive house of cedar and hand-cut stone and parked next to Finn’s black Expedition. Blue and yellow wildflowers lined the path to the door, and the address numbers were carved directly into a fat rock at the end of the path, along with the name of the house—Stillwater. Because apparently rich people liked to name their homes. This was to be her humble abode for her summer weekends.
“Okay, maybe I am crazy,” she muttered.
She had a moment where she considered turning around and canceling it all, but then the door opened. Finn stepped onto the porch in jeans and an army-green T-shirt, damp-haired and a little dirty, as if he’d be working on something. He leaned against the post, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. Liv’s belly did a flip, and she tried to tamp down her body’s automatic response to the man.
“Shit.” Did he always have to look so good? Maybe he should grow the scraggly recluse beard. For her own protection. As a damn public service.
He raised a hand in silent greeting. Liv climbed out of the car and lifted the six-pack of Shiner Bock in response.
He smiled and swept his arm toward the house. “You have brought the proper sacrifice to gain entry.”
She gave an exaggerated curtsy. “I wouldn’t dare enter without it.”
He laughed and sidled down the walk, his gait casual. He was comfortable here. He swiped his hands on the back of his jeans and took the beer from her, saving her the awkward decision of to hug or not to hug.
“Damn, it’s good to see you,” he said, his voice genuine. “I’d greet you in a more appropriate way than stealing your beer, but I’m filthy.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve been texting me.”
He grinned, dimple appearing. “Different kind of filthy. I’m helping my friend get this place back in shape so he can sell it. I decided to rebuild the fire pit down by the shore, but it took longer than I thought. Or my skills are rusty. Probably both. I haven’t worked with my hands in a while.”
She bit the inside of her lip, remembering what other things he hadn’t done in a while. Although based on their kiss at the restaurant, those skills weren’t rusty at all. “No worries.”
“I’ll need to grab a shower before dinner, but I’ve got your room all ready.” He cocked his head toward the property beyond. “Where’s your stuff? We can get you settled in before dinner.”
“Suitcase in the back seat. Camera gear in the trunk. I can get the equipment if you can grab my bag.”
“Got it.” Finn set the beer on the roof of her car, then pulled Liv’s suitcase and backpack from the back seat. “I ordered the pizza. And wings, of course.”
“Excellent.”
Finn hoisted her backpack over his shoulder. “I’m glad you were able to get away. You sounded slammed.”
Liv busied herself with her stuff and avoided his gaze, trying to ignore the pang of guilt she felt for bailing on work. “Yep. But I’m always crazy busy. The work will still be there on Tuesday.”
“True. I’ve learned that’s a well that never runs dry. Work always fills whatever space you give it.”
“So it seems.”
He jabbed a thumb behind him. “This way to the pool house.”
Finn took most of the heavy stuff, leaving Liv with a shoulder bag, her precious camera, and the beer. She followed him up the drive, past a wrought-iron gate, and when she turned the corner, all her breath whooshed out of her. A small, dark-blue swimming pool sparkled in the middle of the backyard, but beyond that was the wide expanse of the lake reflecting back the orange-pink sky.
And the sound. She wanted to wrap herself up in the sounds. Gently lapping water, a breeze whispering through the trees, a few birds twittering happy songs. It was all so different from her normal soundtrack of passing cars and city noise. She’d forgotten how quiet the lake could be.
“Wow, this is gorgeous.”
Finn looked back over his shoulder at her. “This is my favorite time of the day. The water looks like it’s on fire.” He squinted at the lake. “I remember sitting out here in summers, fishing off the pier, and watching the sun dip below the tree line as everything went dark. I always felt like I was in another time when I came out here. Someplace that real life couldn’t touch.”
Protected from real life. She could use a big heaping dose of that right now. “Is that why you wanted to be out here now?”
She followed him up a set of wooden steps that led to the room above the windowed pool house and set her bags on the small landing. He shrugged, keeping his back to her as he dug out a key. “Maybe. It’s definitely better than a random apartment in Virginia.”
He swung open the door and flipped on a light, illuminating a one-room studio with whitewashed plank walls. She stepped inside behind him and looked around. There was a small living area with a navy-blue couch, an efficiency kitchen to the right, and the bed against the far back wall, made up with white sheets, a soft-looking quilt, and a big pile of pink Starbursts on top. A lamp glowed on the table beside the bed, painting the room in warm light.
“I know it’s small but—”
“It’s adorable,” she finished. And it was. Cozy and welcoming. Like him—the man who’d picked out all the pink candies for her. She set her things down and walked over to the window across from the couch. It looked out on the south side of the lake, giving her a fantastic view of the hills on the other side. “And you can’t beat the view.”
“No, you can’t,” he said quietly.