Between Us: A Vacation Romance (The Monroe Series Book 3)

by Emma Tharp

  My skin is warm from the sun beating down on me, and when I open my eyes, Dean is standing over me. He holds out a cup of coffee. "I thought you might need this." He squats down and passes it to me. There's no hiding the hurt in his beautiful eyes.

  "Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Thanks for the coffee." I ease myself to a sitting position, wincing at the sting in my neck and lower back and take the mug.

  "Do you want to go inside?" he asks. "You look like you could use a hot shower."

  Giving him my hand, he helps me to a standing position. "That sounds like a great idea."

  We walk inside together and make our way to the bathroom. Dean turns the shower on and when steam fills the room, we both get undressed and step inside.

  "Let me help," Dean says and stands behind me, rubbing my lower back while the hot water streams down my body.

  "Thanks. That feels nice,” I tell him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Dean is so good to me.

  He's doing all the right things, but we’re quiet and there's an undeniable tension prickling around us, taking up too much space.

  I know we need to talk, but I don't know what I can say that will make this right between us. I'm not sure either of us will be able to let this go. And I have a sinking feeling in my stomach because I'm not sure we're going to make it through the end of the week.

  After the shower, I dry off and get dressed.

  In the bedroom, Dean’s in his boxer briefs, looking gorgeous as always. “Did you still want to go to the horse races today?”

  “Sure. I’d like to,” I tell him, running a brush through my hair. The races should be fun and will give us something else to think about. We can help each other pick out the winners and when the race starts, we can cheer on our horses. We need something to raise our spirits and get us out of the funk we’re in.

  "Want me to make us breakfast?" Dean asks. He looks hopeful. I can tell it sets his mind at ease when he's got something to do.

  I don't have an appetite. "No, I'm okay."

  He slides his legs into a pair of khakis. "How about a granola bar or something?"

  Shaking my head, I walk toward the bedroom door. "I'll eat there.”

  “Okay,” he says and shrugs his shoulders.

  When we finish getting ready, we make our way to the car. Mercifully, the ride to the track is quick. Neither of us say anything the entire ride. It's strange since we’ve never had problems with conversation or awkward silences. Not until now.

  Finding a place to park, we make our way in. It feels good to be outside in the sunshine away from the confines of the car.

  "Giselle. Giselle, is that you?" a man’s voice calls out.

  Turning slowly, my eyes widen when they land on a familiar face that I wasn't expecting to see here.

  "Who's that?" Dean asks, and it's hard to miss the crinkle in his forehead.

  I swallow hard, and realization that my two worlds are going to suddenly collide hits. "One of my partners."

  Fourteen

  Dean

  Giselle is standing frozen in place, making no move to walk toward her coworker. But he’s coming toward us. She looks like she’d like to crawl out of her skin, or dig a hole and climb in.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  “Fine.” It’s all she gets out before her partner stands in front of us and holds out his hand for Giselle to shake.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s good to see you,” the tall man with salt-and-pepper hair says. He’s dressed in khakis and a pink and white striped polo shirt with a blue suit jacket over it. A woman with big blonde hair and lots of makeup comes up next to the guy. “And who do we have here?” he asks, eyeing me.

  Giselle clears her throat. “James, this is my friend, Dean. Dean, this is James, one of the founding partners at my firm.”

  “Nice to meet you, James,” I say, holding out my hand.

  He grips it firmly and we shake. “Good to meet you, too. I’ve never gotten the chance to meet any of Giselle’s friends.”

  I smile past the sting of the term “friend” even though I’m not sure why. We don’t exactly have a title. What else would she call me? Her lover, her friend with benefits? “Is this your wife?” I ask to take the attention away from myself.

  “This is Kitty.”

  That’s really her name? No way. It has to be a nickname. She gives me her hand. It’s cool and limp, but I shake it anyway. “Nice to meet you, Kitty.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Her eyes scan my body like she’s a shark and I’m a little fish she’d like to devour.

  “Well, it’s settled then. You’ll join us in our box today,” James announces and begins walking toward the entrance.

  I glance at Giselle and she shrugs her shoulders. We make our way inside, and she doesn’t hold my hand. She’s ashamed of me and it hurts. We hold hands everywhere we go. But I guess this is the first time that anyone from our outside lives has crossed over like this.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? We could just leave if you’d like.” I lean in and whisper into Giselle’s ear.

  Her posture is stiff and everything feels wrong. It’s like getting a glimpse of her life back in New York City. “No. It’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t have a choice. It’s not like I can blow off one of the senior partners.”

  Alrighty then.

  The place is dotted with what seems like thousands of people. Men, women, and children are all dressed up in what my mom would call their Sunday best, including the ladies in big hats. We walk by vendors selling paintings and horse memorabilia.

  Before I know it, we’re sitting in a fancy box with the owner of Giselle’s firm. The mimosas are flowing along with the cash. They’re placing some serious bets. I was going to randomly put twenty bucks on a horse with a cool name, but not now. I’ll keep my measly money in my pocket.

  James introduces me to his friends—they all seem to be attorneys or their spouses. They’re all cordial, but after the initial introduction, they lose interest since we don’t seem to have much in common, and go off into their tight group.

  “Who should I pick?” Giselle comes up to me, showing me a card.

  I slip my arm around her waist and stare at the names. “I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about these horses.”

  “I don’t really either.” She looks up at me and smirks. “Eeny, meenie, miny, mo?” She closes her eyes and points at the card.

  “No, Giselle. Come here, I’ll help you,” James calls over his shoulder.

  She presses her lips together into a thin line before she walks toward him. “I’ll be right back.”

  “They’ll just talk shop,” Kitty announces, swirling her glass of champagne.

  I nod in agreement. That’s all they’ve done so far. “How long have you two been married?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m just a girlfriend. He won’t marry me. Too much risk.” She winks. “Divorce lawyers make a lot of money and learn a lot of lessons along the way. Mostly…not to get married.”

  Glancing over at Giselle to see if she’s paying attention, I want to know if she’s been listening in—and does she feel the same as her partner. Her body language usually gives everything away. In this case, her shoulders sag and I know she agrees. “Huh. I don’t know. I rather like the idea of marriage, with the right woman.” I shrug. Giselle has her back to me and doesn’t turn around, but I know she heard me.

  A race begins, and everyone’s attention is drawn to the row of horses that seem to jump out of the starting gates. Their hooves dig into the ground, kicking up dust in their wake. A chestnut horse takes the early lead. Even though I didn’t place a bet, adrenaline shoots through me as I watch with the rest of the cheering fans. The jockeys are standing in the stirrups, parallel to the ground, looking as if one wrong move would send them flying through the air. Around the last turn, a black horse takes over the front spot and people all around me clap and cheer, but not Giselle.

  I stand next to Giselle an
d lean in. “You didn’t win?”

  Her brow furrows and she shakes her head. “Nope. Not this one. Guess today’s not my lucky day.”

  It’s hard not to miss the irony. It doesn’t feel like my lucky day either. “Is this an all-day thing?” I ask. I’m hot, even without a jacket on like some of the other men.

  She smiles weakly. “We don’t have to stay.”

  She says it, yet she’s seemed the most comfortable she’s been all day while talking to her partner. He’s her type. And he’s not married. They work in the same office. I have to wonder if there had ever been anything between them—even though he’s older than she is.

  Just then, James calls Giselle over to where he’s standing. Again. I wish she’d stay next to me for a few more minutes. I’m not normally an insecure man, but right now, I’ve never felt more out of place.

  “I’m sorry,” she says before she turns away from me.

  I blow out a frustrated breath and my blood pressure starts to rise.

  “They’ve never dated, to my knowledge,” Kitty murmurs in my ear.

  I take a drink. “The thought never occurred to me.”

  She tips her head back and laughs. “Liar.”

  I smirk at being called out. That wasn’t nice. I’m not in the mood.

  Picking up a quarter of a sandwich off a tray, I eat it all in one bite. I’ve never tasted anything like it, deciding it isn’t bad. Mimosas aren’t my favorite, but I tip one back anyway. If you can’t beat them, join them.

  Another race soon begins. I stand to get a better view. Everyone cheers, jumping up and down as the horses round the corner toward the finish line. Two horses are close, both jockeying for first, but in the final second, a large dark brown horse wins by an inch.

  “I won!” Giselle jumps up and down and James grabs her in a bear hug.

  “Me, too. Let’s all go out for dinner. My treat,” James says, his voice full of triumph.

  Giselle smiles. “Sounds good—as long as Dean is okay with it,” she adds, tilting her head to the side.

  What am I going to do? I can’t very well be the one to stick a fork in her lovely day. I plaster a fake grin on my face. Damn, I’m getting really good at that. “Sounds great,” I lie. All I want to do is go back to the lake house, to be alone with her and find some way to bridge the growing distance between us.

  Spending more time with James and Kitty isn’t going to do it.

  Fifteen

  Giselle

  "What did you want me to say?" I snap as soon as Dean tells me he doesn't want to eat dinner with them. It sounds harsh, even to my own ears and I hate myself for it, but I've been so flustered from the moment I saw James this morning.

  When I heard my partner at the firm’s voice, I instantly knew it wasn’t good. How exactly was I going to explain to anyone outside my inner circle who Dean is? I can’t tell them that Dean is my lover—that wouldn’t be appropriate. And he’s not my boyfriend. And friend doesn’t seem sufficient either. But there wasn’t any time to think, so that’s how I introduced him. And I didn’t miss the sour expression on Dean’s face when I said the word. The day got worse from there. Dean didn’t make an effort to socialize with James and I felt it necessary to mingle with James and his other lawyer friends—it would look bad if I didn’t. It was blatantly obvious that Kitty was flirting with Dean all day, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

  We’re in the car, following James and Kitty to a restaurant on the lake.

  "You should've told them that we don't get to spend much time together and you'd see him at the office next week, but thanks for the offer," Dean says. His tone has more of an edge than it normally does. The tight set of his features tell me he's barely hanging on to his composure.

  Mine is already gone. "You could've said no!" I growl.

  "How? How could I do that? It's your job!" It happened. Dean finally lost his cool.

  The contents of my stomach churn. I barely ate anything today. All I've had are a few mimosas.

  This trip is going downhill fast. I pick up the phone and scroll through my contacts to find James's number.

  "Of course, you have his personal cell number," Dean mutters under his breath, but I hear every word.

  I glance over at him but he won't look back at me. This is our first official fight. We've never had a reason to before. Which brings me back to why it wouldn't be a good idea to combine our lives beyond one week a year. It was abundantly clear today that they just don’t mix.

  Dean's jaw is clenched tight as well as his hand on the wheel.

  "We work together. It doesn't mean that I ever use it,” I sigh. He's obviously jealous. It doesn't make sense. James is a coworker—a much older coworker, I might add. I'm not attracted to him. But I have a great deal of respect for him and a good professional relationship. I hope that didn't translate into something more in Dean's eyes. "I don't know why you're so mad. I'm cancelling, okay? I'm telling him I'll see him in the office next week."

  Clicking James's contact info, I keep the phone on Bluetooth so Dean can hear every word. No need to upset him anymore than he already is.

  The call is quick and easy, although James and Kitty do sound disappointed that we wouldn't be joining them this evening. By the time the discussion is over, we're back at the lake house.

  Dean storms into the house, but I'm not ready to deal with the incoming argument yet so I make my way to the end of the dock to pout. This wasn't how our vacation was supposed to go.

  The beauty of our relationship is that we don't have entanglements or attachments or expectations. That's why we never argue. And now, all that has changed. Is it me? Did I give him the wrong impression?

  When we’re together, things do get passionate. When I'm with him, I don't hold back. There's no time. Maybe he read that to mean something more. I flex my hands in my hair and rest my elbows on my knees, trying to pinpoint the moment where our signals could have been crossed. Nothing specific comes to mind. This vacation has been like all of the others before it.

  The last thing I want is for this to end. I value this, value him. But we made rules when this all got started. Rules that I’ve followed to a T. We get one week together a year—no strings attached.

  Even without strings, I do care about him and don’t like to see him hurting. It’s time to go inside and figure this out. Standing, I turn toward the house, ready to talk to him, only to find him making his way down to the dock to me.

  "Can we talk?" His voice is quiet and he looks up at me with those beautiful teal eyes.

  I nod. "Inside?" He knows as well as I do that voices carry on the water.

  He motions for me to go first. Ever the gentleman.

  Once inside, he shuts the door behind us. I turn and before I can say a word, he starts talking.

  "I'm sorry, Giselle."

  I shake my head, tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry, too. I don't know where this all went wrong."

  He steps closer and lays his hands on my cheeks. "I do. I fell in love with you. I broke all the rules."

  Sixteen

  Dean

  Aghast. Completely and utterly aghast. That's how Giselle looks right now. Filled with horror and shock after I admitted that I love her.

  Not how I saw this going.

  "I didn't mean to," I tell her. Even I can hear the defeat and bitterness in my voice. "This wasn't the plan, and despite popular belief…I plan." I shake my head, waiting for her to say something. Only she doesn't and I know exactly why. My heart feels heavy in my chest because she doesn't love me back. This is completely one-sided and I've only made things more awkward by letting her in on the depths of my feelings.

  Giselle's jaw hangs open as if she still can't believe what I've said. It kills me that this comes as such a surprise to her. I have been doing my best to show her all week how much she means to me.

  This might be it. Like a dark cloud crowding out the sun, I've gone and pushed her away. And now, I can feel it all coming to an en
d.

  She still hasn't said a word, but now her eyes fill with glassy tears—none actually fall. She knows it, too. She sniffs and swipes at her eyes, then she puts her game face on. I can almost imagine that this is how she looks in the courtroom, minus the tears. This is personal.

  "Forget I said anything. We can just…let it go." I do my best to make my tone light and jovial, even ending my phrasing with the song. I hope to make her smile, but she doesn't.

  "I think we need some space for tonight," she says, looking down at her hands. "Things have gotten way too intense too quickly." She takes a step closer to me and even though her words sting and I want to back away, I don’t.

  “Right.” I nod. I’ll agree to anything as long as I can hold on to her a while longer.

  “You know we don’t fit, right?” She shakes her head and sighs. “I live in the city. You live in the mountains of Vermont. You like to spend all your free time outdoors, and I prefer to work.” Standing up straighter, it’s clear she’s determined to make a case. Lay it all out so I can see it and properly judge the situation. She’s obviously incredibly good at what she does. “I see this all day, every day. Couples who got married thinking love was enough, who never considered that they had nothing to build a life on. I won’t make that mistake.” She shakes her head again, harder this time.

  I think she’s trying to break it off completely now. I can feel it in my gut. She’s going to make it so that we never see each other again. She’s convincing herself that we need to stop our week of passion every summer. My heart feels like it’s going to shatter. I’ve never been in such pain before.

  In all my years, my heart’s never really been involved in my dating situations. Until now. I shake my head because I can’t let her do this. “No. Tonight we’ll give each other space. Tomorrow, we’ll regroup. We’ll get through this. I’ll get over it.”