Tectonic (Double Blind Study Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  The setting sun cast lazy shadows on the wall and he watched them while absentmindedly running his fingertips up and down the back of Greta's hand that was resting on his chest.

  “My last project was a couple weeks ago. A nice guy who got cheated on by an impatient, gold-digging whore.”

  Greta craned her neck to look up at him when he chuckled. She flashed a smile then returned her head to his chest.

  “Not project. Though I am interested in that story. Tell me about your last relationship,” he repeated.

  He felt her body tense slightly before she sighed softly.

  “The last guy I dated was when I lived in Boston.”

  Shane stayed still. Her voice was soft. Hesitant even. The enormity of what she was sharing wasn't lost on him. He knew, from the conversation that he'd had with Steve that day, that Greta didn't share anything about why she didn't date. She just didn't. And they had learned not to push.

  “His name was Cole Parker. We dated for a couple months.”

  He waited but she didn't continue. “Did you break up when you transferred to San Diego?” he guessed quietly.

  “No.” He felt her body exhale and her head pushed closer into his chest. “We broke up when I found out he was married.”

  Shane closed his eyes and pressed his hand over hers in the center of his chest. His other arm tightened around her reflexively.

  “I know how that makes me sound,” she whispered hurriedly. “I honestly had no idea he was married. He had an apartment in the city that she didn't know about. There were warning signs, but I ignored them because he was charming and sweet and he liked me.” She paused, shifting closer to him. As if he provided her the safety she needed to confess these things. “But I learned that lesson. I'll never do that again.”

  “Awful lesson to learn, babe,” Shane murmured, wishing in that moment he had business in Boston so he could have a visit with this dickwad.

  “Yeah.”

  Shane liked where she was and decided to lighten the conversation in an effort to keep her there a bit longer. She'd just returned from a visit home for Carl and Miranda's wedding and, a few days later, Thanksgiving. Shane hadn't had a family Thanksgiving in fourteen years.

  “Tell me about Thanksgivings at your house.”

  He felt her smile against his chest before she launched into vivid detail on the holiday. The house in the country, the days of cooking to prepare, the relatives that would descend, all her crazy cousins, how Harrison always fell asleep in his pie.

  This is where Shane found out that Blake was a part of the O'Neil family and Lucy and Greta had not only met, but were actually becoming fast friends.

  Greta treated this detail with care and he was touched by her sweetness. But it wasn't necessary. Something had switched in Shane. His hang-ups about Lucy changed almost the minute he talked about how it felt out loud. It was like he let it go with the same breath that he had used to form the words about it.

  He was happy for her. Completely. And that was the only feeling he had left on that matter.

  ***

  Greta woke up to Shane gently rubbing her exposed shoulder with his fingertips. The room was getting brighter with the first light of day and she distantly realized that she had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of their conversation. That was a first.

  “Are you awake, gorgeous?” His deep tone was even deeper in his early morning, just-woke-up voice.

  She didn't respond. She wanted to keep sleeping, not wanting it to be over. She liked how she felt.

  Safe, comfortable.

  Real.

  She finally mumbled, “Mm-hm.”

  His circling fingers stilled. And then, in that deep voice again, “You're so warm.”

  She wasn't sure what to do with that. On one hand, it made her stomach do a little flip. On the other, she was afraid maybe he was hinting that she should get off of him. She went with the latter and pushed away, sitting up slowly. His one arm stayed around her and his hand moved to the middle of her back as she tucked her legs underneath her.

  Greta finally looked at his face, finding his amber eyes watching her carefully. “You want some breakfast?” she asked, not sure where his head was at the moment.

  “Yeah, that'd be good,” he answered, his face curious. His hand stayed firmly in place on her back. He looked like he wanted to say more, so she waited. But nothing came.

  “Okay, I'll go down and get some fruit.” She slipped from his grasp and stood up by the door. “The bathroom is across the hall,” she added before quietly opening her bedroom door and padding down the stairs.

  She used the facilities in the bathroom off of the kitchen. Her reflection in the mirror did nothing to stabilize her tumbling stomach. Her hair had tried to break free of the elastic and was now pulled into a knot off to the side of her head. Pieces of hair sticking out all over the place. She hadn't been wearing any make-up last night, so at least she didn't have to deal with raccoon eyes. No matter, the hair was its own fright show. She attempted to tame it slightly before going back out to the kitchen.

  The house was quiet, and she had no way of knowing if Steve and the guys had come home last night. If they did, they obviously knew Shane was there because his car was probably still parked in the driveway. Geez, she hoped they didn't think she'd just broken all the rules.

  She built a small feast on a tray involving cheese, toast, strawberries, and oranges. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she tried to put her head back together.

  She liked Shane. That wasn't gonna fly. He was still in love with another woman. A woman who she was practically related to at this point. This whole thing had been a very bad idea, she decided. But there was no going back now. She would just have to be better at keeping her distance. She had to regain control of the situation.

  She poured two cups of coffee, added them to the tray, and made her way back upstairs. She felt better after her short pep talk to herself in the kitchen. She could do this. She was Greta. She totally had this under control.

  When she pushed her bedroom door open again, she found Shane sitting on the bed, his shirt back on. He looked up at her shyly and she was struck by his boyishness.

  She realized that all the control she thought she possessed was quite possibly a very grand illusion.

  “How you feeling, big guy?” She closed the door with her hip and put the tray down on the bed.

  “Rested.”

  His eyes remained on hers as she handed him the cup of coffee and he took it gratefully.

  “Would you like to join me for my makeshift picnic?” She waved her hand over the tray as she settled on the edge of the bed, carefully keeping the bed between them.

  “Yes, actually.” He helped himself to a few of the selections. He waited until his mouth was clear and then he asked, “Is spending the night a regular occurrence with your other projects?” His tone was a cross between teasing and curiosity, like he was almost afraid of her answer.

  She took a careful breath while avoiding his eyes. “No.”

  “So I'm special?” There was no mistaking the tease this time and she couldn't fight off the smile on her face.

  “You might be special,” she answered ambiguously, popping a strawberry in her mouth while trying to hide a smirk.

  This was nice. At first, it felt awkward, but not so much now. Shane was easy to talk to, and Greta was just slipping back into that cozy feeling of “everything about this is fine” when he had to ask,

  “Why do you do this?”

  “What do you mean?” she responded, thinking he meant eat fruit and coffee for breakfast.

  “I mean, why do you help sad men? What's your driving purpose?”

  Oh, that.

  Greta picked up her cup of coffee and held it to her mouth before taking a sip.

  “I'm good at it.” She shrugged, not really having much more of an answer than that.

  “C'mon, Greta,” he confronted her gently. “I know I don't know you very well
but from what I can see, you don't do anything without a reason. Even if it doesn't make sense to the rest of the world.”

  She took another sip of coffee and stared into the cup for a beat. “I suppose that's true. But can't my reason be that I just happen to be good at it?”

  “Sure. If that were the truth.”

  Her eyes flicked up to his and she suddenly felt exposed. That easy feeling was rapidly vanishing. Why did it feel like Shane could see right through her? Why did it feel like that's exactly what she wanted him to be able to do?

  He waited for her reply but when she wasn't forthcoming with one, he continued. His amber eyes caught hers and she couldn't break away from his stare. “I mean, I know I held onto you all night. But I know for a fact, you were holding on to me, too.”

  Oh, wow. He was in there. She hadn't been careful enough and he'd slipped into her head. She wasn't fooling him, and she was barely fooling herself. She shouldn't have been so open last night.

  As much as she was tempted to jump into this new development wholeheartedly, she paused to remind herself of the facts. He was in love with another woman. A woman she was friends with. He was simply misplacing those feelings for Lucy on her because she was here and she was the one comforting him. That was how it worked. The only thing that made this time different than with any of the other guys was that Greta, somewhere along the way, had let her guard down for a moment with Shane.

  She blamed the tequila.

  And Shane's muscles.

  “This isn't about me.” Greta attempted to shrug it off lightly, but it came out as fake as it felt. Because, yeah, getting over Shane was going to take some work if she let this go any further. And he wasn't into her. He was still way hung up on Lucy. But she'd known that going in.

  “What if I make it about you?” That shadow in Shane's eyes was back. They darkened and flared on the edges and Greta felt her shoulders stiffen, her defensiveness kicking in.

  Nope, she wasn't going through that again. She knew how it would end if she allowed herself to think she could actually be something more in his life than a friend. It would be ugly. Because while she and Lucy had several similarities, they were far from the same person. Shane would figure that out, and she would be the one with the broken heart.

  “You chose snowboarding. That's the deal. I asked for access into your head to help you. In return, you asked to be able to coach me. I will not accept an alteration to the original terms.” She clenched her jaw, staying firm. She had to. For herself.

  Shane took a slow, deep breath as he regarded her carefully.

  “Okay,” he finally said, to Greta's relief.

  ***

  Shane reached for more food, taking his eyes from Greta.

  It bothered him that she was clearly shutting him out again when they'd shared so much with each other last night. Why was she acting like she had to protect herself from him? It was so obvious that's what she was doing, so he backed off. But he'd gotten in there. He felt it.

  He chewed slowly, letting his thoughts run and settle on a decision. Something had happened last night. He'd come over to her house because he felt an overwhelming need to be close to her. He was cold and she was warm. It was a completely rational solution to a simple problem.

  But she had done more than comfort him. She'd begun to thaw the ice around his self-inflicted wounds, and then applied some sort of healing balm. He didn't feel gutted anymore. He didn't feel like a failure. Instead, he felt like he'd gotten a reboot.

  “Do you work today?” he asked, trying to change the subject while still trying to get her to understand that he wasn't going anywhere.

  Her blue eyes flashed with silver fireworks and he wondered if she knew how beautiful she was. If anyone had ever told her. If any of the guys that had been in this place before him had tried to fight to stay, or had walked away at her encouragement.

  “Yeah,” she responded, looking over at the clock on her wall. “I have to be there in a couple of hours.” Her slight smile signaled that she was no longer on the defense, but the wall was still firmly in place.

  “Can I give you a ride?” Shane asked, his eyes flicking up to catch hers. He really liked seeing her this early in the morning. Her hair a giant mess, her eyes clear and bright.

  “But how will I get home then?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

  Shane pretended to look shocked. “Well, I suppose I would have to come back and get you.” She laughed at his response and he grinned. “How about you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

  “What?” she asked uneasily, her laughter dying.

  “Unless you have plans, I'd really like to take you to dinner.” Shane had finished eating and was ready to swill back the last of his coffee. Greta's face kept flitting in between excitement and hesitation. He wondered if she knew how easy she was to read. “You know what?” He stood up, taking charge of the moment. “You have to get ready for work. You go do that, I'll go upstairs and bother the guys for a while before I take you to work.”

  Her frown was really too adorable for her own good. Shane chuckled as he tapped her on the nose and opened her bedroom door. “Hurry up. I'll meet you downstairs in a few.”

  He heard her mutter something behind him as he closed the door and he chuckled. Oh yeah, he was definitely in there.

  ***

  It's not that Greta didn't want to go to dinner with Shane. It's just that she hated all that implied, inside her own head. And also, he didn't wait for her to answer so she had no idea if the question was for real or if she made it up in a spur of the moment fantasy. She decided to play it safe and pretend like it didn't happen. That way, he could forget to pick her up that night and it wouldn't be that big of a deal. She would just call Brady for a ride.

  On second thought, she probably shouldn't call Brady.

  She popped the door open on Shane's Mercedes the moment the sleek car came to a stop outside the coffee house. Before she could push the door open, Shane's hand curled around her bicep. She looked to his hand, then to his face.

  “What time are you off?” he asked, his mouth twitching with what looked like amusement again.

  “Three,” came her automatic response.

  “I'll be back at three.” He let go of her arm and gave her a half-grin that made her heart stumble.

  She exited the vehicle quickly and went straight into the building without looking back. That is, until she was behind the counter and she was positive he couldn't see her anymore if he was still there. He was. He waited another minute before backing out and driving away.

  Greta sighed heavily. “I am so stupid.”

  Chapter 7

  Lightning Bolt

  Greta loved her job.

  Actually, she'd loved all of her jobs. But the coffee house was a different kind of fun.

  Fresh Pots was a freestanding building near the pier on Huntington Beach. Decorated on the inside with subtle cheetah print and black and brown accent pieces, it was trendy yet chic. Only open from seven in the morning until eight at night, it did a fair amount of business among the tourists to keep it in the black year-round. But the coffee there was unique enough to have quite a bit of regulars.

  From the smell to the décor to the people she got to work with, Greta adored everything about this job. It was busy, fun, and never boring, which was most important to her. Boring sucked.

  Her boss, Laura Giberson, was her age, and she had more snarkiness than Greta thought any single human being was capable of containing. Which probably explained why it leaked out all of the time.

  Laura came from the belief that if you weren't doing it right, you were probably pissing her off. And that was usually true. She had a fantastic sense of humor, as long as the jokes didn't interfere with running the coffee shop like it was the flagship of the United States Navy.

  She kept her jet-black hair cut short, in almost a pixie style, but the bangs were long and swooped out to the side glamorously. Short in height, like Greta, probably only five f
oot three. Pale skin that refused to tan no matter how many times she went to the beach, and an uneven number of piercings decorated her earlobes.

  And because Laura loved the coffee house like she had birthed it, she treated her employees like her own children. Which is to say, that when Shane dropped Greta off and then drove away, looking totally awesome while doing it, Laura was by Greta's side in an instant.

  “Who was that?” Laura asked, face blank. She was really good at looking like she didn't care. But her gray eyes were active and alert at all times.

  “Shane Brookings,” Greta sighed with discontent.

  “Wait a minute.” Laura gave a little jerk of her head and frowned. “Shane Brookings? Professional snowboarder, infamous playboy and Huntington Beach's most sought-after heartbroken bachelor?”

  Greta pursed her lips. “The very same.”

  Laura cocked a hip and stuck a hand to it. “Are we dating Shane Brookings?” she asked, eyebrows raised impossibly high.

  Greta chuckled at Laura's expression. “No, we're just friends.” She pulled her long hair into a messy bun, avoiding Laura's eyes. “But he did ask me out to dinner for tonight.”

  Laura scoffed loudly. “Sounds like a date to me.” She pushed off the counter with her hip. “What do you think, Sugar?” she called to their co-worker, who was cleaning up the tables out front from the early morning coffee crush that had already passed.

  Greta rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile as she clocked in on the computer screen. Sugar Bear Jordan was sure to have an opinion about this. And it was likely to be huge.

  Sugar was a transplant, like Greta. He hailed from Kansas City. A beautiful, tall, gay black man with a collection of Air Jordans that would make Kanye jealous. Seriously, he had a different pair for every outfit. He'd once told Greta that the sole reason he worked was so he could shop.

  “If Shane Brookings asked me out to dinner, there is no way I'd call it anything but a date. That man is too hot for his own good.” Sugar straightened up and moved to the counter with empty mugs in hand.