by Piper Rayne
“Phoenix,” Dori says.
They share a look before Phoenix nods.
We step out of the office and I immediately dig in. “So what was that about?”
“Savannah has a date. She’s getting ready over at Brooklyn’s so that he wouldn’t have to pick her up at your house.”
I nod, a little happier that Wyatt thinks I’m his on-call handyman. Not that I mind—especially today, because nothing gives me more satisfaction than watching Savannah squirm.
Seven
Savannah
I barely escape my meeting with enough time to hightail it over to Brooklyn’s in time to get ready for my date. Juno is already antsy that I’m going to bail, and I don’t need her calling Brook and finding out I’m late.
I park in front of what I think of as the Whitmore Estate, because this giant-ass farmhouse in the middle of Alaska is an out-of-place monstrosity. But that’s what you get from a millionaire trust fund baby, I guess.
I walk up the gravel walkway—they haven’t gotten a chance to pave it yet—and two men unloading something large and white from a box truck draw my attention. At the door, I ring the doorbell.
“Sav?” Wyatt comes out from around back of the house. He’s all sweaty in his track pants and T-shirt.
“Do you still run the resort?” I ask.
He smiles and runs his hand through his dark hair. “You know the chickens your sister bought are a full-time job.”
I return his smile. “You should make Brooklyn do it.”
He agrees, but from his expression, I can see that will never happen.
“Where is she anyway?” I ask, eager to get inside and get ready to be picked up because I want this date done and over with. Yes, I know, not the best mindset to go into this with, but it’s the truth.
“She went into town to grab more plants. She’s trying to build a garden. She said she’d be back by now though.”
“Sick of heading over to Holly and Austin’s every time she needs to make essential oils?” I ask, unsure if I should open the door and go in or not.
Wyatt steps up onto the grand porch. “She caught them screwing the other day when she went by to pick some things from her old garden.”
I cringe, imagining myself in that scenario. “Seems like a regular occurrence for the newlyweds.”
“Yeah. I heard they’re trying.”
I ignore the pang pulling at my heart. I may never “be trying” because what am I going to do? Run a business with a baby hanging off my right breast? No other Bailey is interested in working at Bailey Timber, and Grandma Dori spends less and less time there as it is. I’m the one and only Bailey who can keep the family company, and thereby our legacy, going. Not to mention the problem of finding someone who will accept me for me, falling in love, and getting married first.
“I heard the same,” I say. I watch the men round the box truck again and realize it’s a tent they’re carrying. “That for the reception?”
He glances back as if he doesn’t remember. “Yeah. So much for a small ceremony.”
“No such thing when you marry a Bailey.”
“My only saving grace is that half of Manhattan won’t be here.”
“True.”
I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if they’d invited half of the upper east side to attend. Wyatt’s family owns hotel chains around the world and I’m sure his father would’ve loved nothing more than a swanky Manhattan wedding. As a businesswoman, I have a lot of respect for Wyatt for striking out on his own and purchasing the failing resort in Lake Starlight and turning it around. As a sister, I have even more respect for all the love and support he’s shown my sister since she was left at the altar right before they met.
“Anyway, I’m done talking wedding shit. It’s the reason we eloped. What are you doing here? Brooklyn mentioned you’d be coming by, but she didn’t say why.” He eyes the bag hanging off my shoulder.
“Well…”
As I’m about to tell him the embarrassing fact that I allowed my matchmaking sister to set me up, Brooklyn’s tires sound on the gravel drive before coming to a stop. She opens the trunk of her fancy SUV and grabs a bin of plants and flowers. Wyatt jogs down the steps and grabs them from her.
“Thanks, babe.” Brooklyn smiles at me. “Sorry I’m late. The nursery had some new plants in I couldn’t resist checking out.” She waves it off like it’s not a big deal that she wasn’t on time. “Can I do your makeup?”
She’s forgotten the plants and is on to the next task at hand, but that’s Brooklyn.
“I can do my own makeup.”
“Is this a trial for the reception or something?” Wyatt drops the big crate full of stuff for Brooklyn to plant on the side on the lawn.
“No. Savannah’s got a date.” Brooklyn’s proud tone makes my cheeks heat.
“Oh…” Wyatt’s eyes drill into Brooklyn as though he’s trying to convey something to her, but she’s too busy opening the door for me. “Brook?”
We both turn our attention back to him on the porch, but before he has a chance to say anything, a familiar muscle car comes roaring down the driveway.
“Why is Liam here?” I ask through clenched teeth.
Wyatt runs his hand through his hair and shifts his weight. “I asked him to help with the tent set-up.”
“Why?” Brooklyn screeches.
My eyes are trained on Liam, who has yet to get out of his car. He didn’t mention any of this earlier at the office.
“I just told you. I love that you think I can do everything, but you forget people were paid to do this crap for me my entire life. I just showed up to the events.” Wyatt’s frustrated tone says they’ve had conversations behind my back about Liam and me.
“It’s fine,” I say to stop the newlywed couple from arguing.
“Are you sure?” Brooklyn’s hand lands on my arm. I look at it then up at her concerned gaze.
Liam steps out of his car, looking just as gorgeous as he did at my office. His casual look of jeans and a T-shirt works for him. No other man in Lake Starlight makes a shirt stretch across his shoulders like Liam does. Then again, no one has the sex appeal of Liam, but I’d never tell him that.
“It’s fine. Whatever you guys heard, you’re wrong.”
“Buz—”
Wyatt shoots a look at Brooklyn to shut up. No one wants to be reminded they’re in that stupid Lake Starlight gossip blog.
“Let’s go get ready. Hey, Liam!” Brooklyn waves.
I’m sure he noticed my SUV in the driveway and it’s no surprise that I’m here, but he hasn’t looked our way. After Brooklyn’s boisterous hello, his attention falls to us on the front porch. My body ignites with heat as his smile shifts to his smirk, resembling that day in the bar when I stood up to play pool as Denver’s teammate. Like he’s cornered me.
“Brooklyn. Wyatt.” He raises his hand in greeting and sets his gaze on me, dropping his hand. “Sav.”
The use of my nickname reminds me of the times when we’re alone together. How my shortened name drips off his tongue like ice cream from a cone on a hot day, and I react like that drip, free-falling to the ground.
“Hey. Nice of you to help Wyatt.”
Brooklyn’s foot is tapping on the porch, her hand still on the doorknob. When she opens the door, Gizmo jets out of the house and leaps off the first step, thinking he’s a German Shepherd. He’s a husky and Corgi mix, so his short legs don’t go far, and he falls down each step like a ball, but before he drops to the gravel driveway, Liam swoops him up in his arms.
“I think my ovaries just exploded,” Brooklyn whispers.
Wyatt cocks an eyebrow at her. “Ease up.”
“What? Come on, he caught our little guy.” Brooklyn pushes past Wyatt and me and scoops up her little furball when Liam steps onto the porch, towering over her.
My eyes veer to his tattooed arms for a moment.
“Gizmo, you can’t go running like that no matter how much you love Lia
m.” Brooklyn pets under the dog’s chin and carries him into the house. She shoots me a look.
“See you guys later.” I step toward the front door.
“A word?” Liam’s brooding voice booms at my back.
Brooklyn whips around, probably giving Gizmo whiplash. His eyes bulge out of his head, but he sees Liam and his tongue falls out of his mouth. I get it, little guy. I totally get it.
“With who? We can go over your speech later,” Brooklyn says, looking panicked.
Liam’s confused gaze shifts from all of us and lands on me. “Savannah. We’re planning the charity event for the library together and I need to talk to her for a sec.”
“You are?” Brooklyn’s surprised tone is to be expected.
“Grandma Dori,” I answer.
“Always the meddler. I’ll go get a head start, Liam. Come down when you’re ready.” Wyatt thumbs behind him toward the back yard.
“First, can I have a word with you?” Brooklyn asks Wyatt.
I shake my head as poor Wyatt’s eyes are already filling with questions as to why he’s being pulled into the house. I set my bag by the door and walk down a few steps in case Brooklyn puts a glass to the front door.
“What’s up?” I force casual into my voice though I feel anything but right now. Liam can be the strong silent type at times, and I don’t feel like staring at each other for an eternity while I wait for him to spit out whatever it is he has to say.
“So… a date?” His arms cross, and he leans back on the railing.
I totally ignore the way that position makes his biceps and his pecs pop. “Yes. A date.”
“It’s funny, don’t you think?” He tilts his head.
“What’s funny about it?”
“That you get sick the night I have a woman who wants to sleep with me, yet here you are, trying to hide the fact that you’re going on a date.” His arms clench tighter, his muscles stretching the thin fabric of his shirt.
“You could’ve gone home with her.”
“And taken her where? You took my bed.” His lips tip up like he loves the memory of the night I had an out-of-body experience and forced myself into his bed.
“I was drunk.”
“That’s the second time.”
I throw my hands in the air. “What do you want from me?”
“If you’re going to date, why hide it?”
“I’m not hiding it.”
He tilts his head again, this time with the same expression my father gave me when I told him they weren’t my cigarettes in junior year.
A deep sigh rolls out of my chest. “It’s uncomfortable.”
“Why? We’re friends. I’m best friends with your brothers. It’s not like anything is going on with us.”
Those blue eyes bore into mine. Testing. Taunting. Almost demanding I admit to something just to prove he’s right. But we both know I’m just a conquest to Liam.
“Exactly. So excuse me so I can go get ready.” I take a step up the stairs.
“Can’t wait to meet him.”
I swivel back around, but he’s right there and my hands land on his biceps. His eyes dip down and I retract my hands.
“Too hot to touch?”
Anger and annoyance hijack my body. “Just worry about the tent.”
“You forget how good I am with my hands already?” He brushes his knuckles down my arm and shivers follow his touch. “Maybe you need a reminder?”
I pluck his hand off my skin. “Just stay out of the way.”
“I once told your dad I’d always look out for you Bailey girls.”
“Well, I release you of any obligation when it comes to this Bailey girl.” I point at my chest. “I can handle myself.”
I stomp up the stairs, grab my bag, and swing open the door.
“I’m not sure you know what kind of man is good for you, so I’ll be quick. A quick hello and a handshake with the guy in question won’t hurt.”
I give him a death glare that should keep him away, but his laughter says he’s going to ambush this date. I wish I cared a bit more.
I growl and slam the door.
“You’re lucky I don’t write Buzz Wheel myself,” Brooklyn says, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation. “Sounds like you guys could have a daily feature.”
Eight
Liam
Savannah reacted exactly as I assumed. She’s uncomfortable that I’m here and that I’ll be standing witness as she climbs into another man’s car. She’ll be thinking for the entire night about how pissed off she is at me. I should probably feel bad for potentially ruining her night, but somehow I can’t find it in me.
I slide my palms over one another, jumping off the porch of the Whitmores’ house and shaking my head. This house will never be complete, but I gotta hand it to Wyatt. He’s determined to do it himself.
Wyatt and the tent delivery guys are spreading out the tent when I reach the backyard. The view of the lake behind their house distracts me. It’s clear and blue and I’m a little pissed I didn’t find this piece of property when I built my house years ago. Not that I don’t love the seclusion I have, but the lake here reminds me a little of one on the Bailey family property, where we used to hang out growing up.
“Sorry,” Wyatt mumbles as I jump in to help secure one of the poles.
“For what?”
He shoots me a look like I should know. I do know. Everyone in this town seems to think there’s some hidden relationship between Savannah and me. But the truth is, I think I’m infatuated with a woman who may no longer exist.
“It’s fine. I’m good. Let’s just get this tent up.”
He nods, burying his head in the work of getting a tent up to celebrate his recent marriage to the love of his life. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m jealous to some degree.
When we finish the tent, I tear off my shirt because it’s drenched in sweat. I wipe the sweat dripping off my forehead and head out to see how the chicken coop I helped Wyatt build is holding up. Watching the chickens wander around with no clear direction, I debate whether I should leave.
Why am I still here? I should’ve run away the minute the tent was up. Let her stay in denial and go on a date with some guy who has no idea who she really is. But a small amount of hope still lives inside me and flares to life every time we find ourselves at a crossroad.
“Here you go.” Wyatt hands me a water.
I slide my hand down the condensation before running the coolness over my forehead. “Thanks.”
“Savannah’s date just pulled up.”
I nod. ‘Stay here. Just fucking stay out here. Don’t bother with it,’ I say to myself for the umpteenth time, but sometimes I’m not good at listening to my inner warnings. That’s how I ended up in jail with Rome and Denver for pranking the school on senior day. It was a shitty idea from the start, but hey, it was fun.
“Good decision to stay out here.”
Wyatt’s words spur me into action.
“Would you?” I ask.
He’s quiet for a minute. Wyatt and I shoot the shit all the time. It’s probably why he picked me over any of the Bailey boys to be his best man. I probably shouldn’t involve him in this, but he’s not blood-related to Savannah.
“I’m not sure what you and Savannah are, so I don’t know what to say,” he says.
I down half the bottle of water. “That’s a bullshit answer.”
“It was kind of a bullshit question.”
I cock my head and question him from the corner of my eye. But the guy is right. What the hell am I doing? I don’t accept defeat this easily. I pat his back and head toward the house. “Thanks.”
It’s not until the chill of the air conditioning hits my skin that I remember I’m shirtless. By then I’m standing in their kitchen, Brooklyn’s wide eyes taking me in. Some guy in khakis and a polo shirt is looking at me with a quizzical expression.
“Um…” Brooklyn’s essential oil bottle slips from her hands, but she gra
bs it before it shatters on the floor. “Lose your shirt?”
I hold it up.
“Maybe put it on?” she says, but I’m way too busy throwing mental daggers at the guy standing with his hands in his pockets because I know who he is.
Out of all the men Juno could’ve picked, this douchebag is the one she thinks is the right fit for her sister?
“Liam Kelly?” Brent Jacobs looks me up and down. “Still doing your own tattoos?”
A condescending laugh slips out. “Still working for Daddy?”
The door behind me opens, and Brooklyn’s shocked gaze focuses behind me. I assume Wyatt is there.
“If you mean do I run the show now, then yes,” Brent says.
Brooklyn places the vial of essential oils on the table. “You two know one another?”
Wyatt rounds me. “Want me to grab you a new shirt?”
“Nah, I’m out of here soon anyway. Thanks though.”
“You sure? Because the air is on and—” Brooklyn’s words freeze when Wyatt’s huff echoes through the quiet room.
“I’ll grab you a shirt,” Wyatt says.
“I can do it.” Brooklyn puts her hand on Wyatt’s arm before he has a chance to leave the room. She walks out—off to warn Savannah, I’m sure.
“Using a matchmaking service to get your dates now?” I ask, leaning against the counter, crossing my arms.
“I wasn’t going to pass up a date with Savannah Bailey. Besides, we have a lot in common.”
“Which is what exactly?” The air might be on in here, but jerk-off is stoking my anger and my skin feels as if it’s burning.
Wyatt comes next to me, mimicking my stance. I cock my eyebrow but focus my attention on Brent.
“We both run huge companies.”
“And?”
Brent rocks back on his heels, and my eyes fall to his stupid loafers. He looks as if he’s stepped out of a Tommy Hilfiger ad. “Am I going out with you? What’s with the third degree?”
I shrug. “I’m close with the Baileys.”
“Oh, that’s right.” A Cheshire Cat grin pulls up the corners of his mouth. “Am I stepping on your toes?”