Rainy Day Friends

by Jill Shalvis

  “As long as you didn’t kill it,” Cora said. “Spiders are our friends.”

  “Mom, are you kidding me? I murdered the shit out of that spider. Right now I’m just waiting to make sure he didn’t call out the cavalry before I took him down.”

  Cora didn’t so much as blink at this. She just shook her head, a small, indulgent smile on her lips. She clearly loved her daughter very much, and suddenly River knew why she was so drawn to Cora.

  She reminded River of her own beloved mom. But because that was a slippery slope, she shut it down and smiled at everyone Cora introduced her to, until they came to a big L-shaped desk in the back corner, holding two impressive-looking printers, a big-screen computer, and a bunch of other equipment.

  “River,” Cora said, “this is Lanie. She’s our resident graphic artist.”

  River froze, but Lanie stood up and reached out a hand for River to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  River still couldn’t move, and then Cora’s smile started to fade, so she galvanized herself into recovery. With a forced smile, she took Lanie’s hand. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Pregnancy brain.”

  Lanie nodded but didn’t smile. Not as friendly as Cora, not even close, River realized.

  Cora’s cell rang on her hip and she looked at it with a frown. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Lanie, River has offered to start right now. Can you take her back to the front desk at reception and wait with her until I send someone down with the forms she needs to fill out for employment? River, honey, after you fill out the forms and give them to Lanie, I’ll have someone get your things into your cottage.”

  “Oh, no,” River said quickly. “I can do that myself—”

  “I’m sure you could, but what kind of a human being would I be if I let a pregnant woman do such a thing?” She smiled. “Besides, I have a misbehaving employee I want to torture. Don’t make things too easy on him, you hear me?”

  River had no choice but to nod. Still, there was no way she was going to let that happen. She didn’t want anyone to know her humiliating truth, that not only was she alone and pregnant, but that she’d also screwed things up so much that she was living out of her car.

  On the walk to the reception area, Lanie remained reserved but pointed out the staff room and where to put her things.

  “So you’re new too?” River asked.

  Lanie looked at her. “Yes, how did you know?”

  Shit. You’re an idiot. “Uh . . . Cora mentioned it just now.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Lanie said and looked like she might’ve said something else, but two little girls came running down the hall and threw themselves at Lanie.

  “Lanie!” one of them cried happily. “Look, we’ve got our own lip gloss now!” In unison, they pulled lip glosses from the pockets of their matching jeans. “Just like yours, only they’re clear because Daddy said we can’t wear color until we’re forty or until he’s too old to chase us, whichever comes first.”

  Lanie softened and smiled. “Nice. So where are you two really supposed to be right now?”

  One of them grinned a toothless, guileless grin.

  The other bit her lower lip. “Um . . .”

  Lanie turned to a huge whiteboard schedule and ran her finger down the “twins” column. “Looks like you’re supposedly with Grandma.” She pulled her cell phone from a pocket. “Cora, did your phone call have to do with missing product? Say, a pair of three-feet-high missing product? Yep . . . uh-huh. Okay, I’ll tell them . . . Sure thing.” Lanie disconnected and crouched down to face both the little girls. “Your grandma says you have three minutes to get your ‘cute little tushies’ back into her office before she reports you missing to the sheriff, and the word is that the sheriff’s this close to reducing your bedtime for bad behavior.”

  This caused twin squeaks of alarm, and then the two girls vanished hand in hand down the hall.

  Lanie shook her head, but she was also still smiling a little bit, looking suddenly very human as she led River to the front desk without another word.

  “You don’t have to wait with me,” River said when Lanie just stood by, looking at her watch.

  “You don’t know this yet,” Lanie said, “but Cora’s the sweetest, kindest tyrant you’ll ever meet. She asked me to wait with you. I’m going to wait with you.”

  River nodded.

  Lanie gestured to the chair. “You really should sit. Do you want some water or anything?”

  “No, thank you,” River said, feeling guilt settle onto her chest just as sure as her baby was tap-dancing on her bladder. Guilt and . . . confusion. Because for months now, Lanie had been the devil incarnate in River’s eyes. But now she was wavering on that belief. Lanie was quiet and reserved and . . . human. And so much more accomplished at life than River could ever hope to be.

  “So how did you know I was new?” Lanie asked.

  And smart, River added with an inner wince. “You just seemed new.”

  Lanie studied her and then thankfully let it go without another word.

  And not a minute later, someone came by with the forms and Lanie vanished.

  The next three hours were a whirlwind.

  River filled out the forms, answered the phone when it rang, and met more Capriottis. At some point, she went to the bathroom and came back to find a pregnancy book on her desk with a little bow wrapped around it. She hugged the book close and silently thanked her anonymous benefactor.

  At five on the dot, a guy showed up. Twentysomething, he was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, boots, and a backward baseball cap. He pulled off his dark sunglasses and gave her a nod, his face unreadable. “Ready?”

  Her heart stopped. Had she done something wrong and he was escorting her out? “For . . . ?”

  “Cora said to move you into cottage number five.”

  When she let out a whoosh of relieved air, he gave her an odd look that she ignored. “Thanks,” she said. “But I’ve got it.”

  “Boss lady says otherwise. And as she’s still pissed at me, she also said after I was done doing that, I should ask you what else you needed and do that too.”

  “I don’t need anything from you,” River said.

  “She said you’d say that.”

  Startled, she met his gaze, which was calm and steady, not matching his words at all. Neither did his tone. In fact, he seemed . . . amused?

  Which made no sense. “Shouldn’t you be feeling bad about getting in trouble with the boss instead of laughing at me?” she asked.

  “I’m laughing because you’re as stubborn as she said you’d be.”

  “Maybe I just don’t want to deal with a troublemaker.” Or in other words, anyone of the male persuasion.

  He shrugged. “That’s probably a smart plan,” he said.

  Unable to help herself, she asked, “What did you do to make Cora mad?”

  “Fell off a wild horse and got a concussion.”

  She gasped. “And that was your fault?”

  “One hundred percent. There’re wild horses grazing the land and we’re supposed to protect them, not touch them. And we’re certainly not supposed to ride them. They can be dangerous.” He gave a wry smile and tapped a finger to his temple.

  “I see,” she said, though she didn’t see at all. “I appreciate that she offered your assistance, but really I’m fine.”

  “She was pretty sure you’d say that too,” he said and turned to look out the window. “The rusted blue Camry, right?” Without waiting for a response, he moved to the door.

  “Wait!” she cried and struggled to stand up. It took her a second and once she was up, his eyes widened at the sight of her belly and he held up a hand.

  “Oh Christ,” he said, his calm definitely shaken now. “Sit back down!”

  “I’m pregnant, not helpless.” But damn, she was dizzy from getting up too fast.

  He came around and got ahold of her. “Whoa,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  �
�Low blood sugar? Do you need food?”

  Yes and yes, not that she was going to say so. “I said I was fine,” she snapped and pulled free. “My diet’s fine. My baby’s fine. And as it’s my stuff out there, I’m going with you.”

  He looked her over, scrubbing a hand over his scruffy jaw, probably trying to determine just how serious she was.

  She was as serious as a heart attack.

  “Fine,” he finally said and she gave him a point in his favor for accurately reading her level of determination. “You can point out the stuff you want moved. But you’re not to touch anything, you understand me?”

  “The way you didn’t touch the wild horses?”

  He slid her a look and gave a tiny hint of a smile. “Kitten’s got claws,” he said, sounding pleased.

  “I do, and for your information, I’m not going to not touch my own stuff.”

  He nodded as if he’d expected that answer and took off his baseball cap with one hand, shoving his other through his military-short dark hair so that it stood up on end. The guy had clearly been working hard, probably all day, and was gleaming with sweat. “Cora’s gonna kill me,” he muttered and jammed his hat back on his head and strode out the door.

  She assumed she was to follow, so she did. At her car, he stopped and looked in.

  “Is this all of it?” he asked.

  When she didn’t answer right away, he turned toward her in question. Whatever he saw in her face softened the hard lines of his and he came toward her.

  She backed up a step.

  He stopped on a dime and went hands up. “You’re looking a little flushed is all,” he said quietly. “I just want you to back up a few more feet and sit on that bench, okay? You can boss me around from there just as well if that’s your plan.”

  She sank with gratitude to the bench. “I’m not bossy.”

  He laughed a little, which confused her.

  “You’re doing all this for me,” she said, baffled. “And I don’t even know your name.”

  “Holden.” Without asking her name in return, he opened the car door and grabbed the suitcase she’d been living out of. She had her purse on her, which left just a small backpack with a few essentials. He grabbed that as well and then went to pop the trunk.

  “There’s nothing else,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’ll take this stuff to your cottage and then you can give me your address and I’ll go get whatever else—”

  “No, there’s nothing else,” she repeated softly. “As in . . . nothing else.”

  He paused, and she told herself if he looked at her with so much as even a single ounce of pity, she’d have to smack him with her purse, which was heavy as shit.

  But he simply nodded. “Pretty and she packs light,” he said. “I like it.”

  She had no idea how to respond to that, but the butterflies in her belly did, taking flight. Holden showed her to her cabin, pointing out some landmarks on the way, such as the actual winery, the not-wild horses the family kept, the wide-open fields that to River were just about the most beautiful scenery she’d ever laid eyes on.

  At her door, Holden pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the place, and then handed the key to her. Then he shouldered his way in, strode to the small loveseat against the far wall, and set her things down. He looked around. “Never been in this one. It’s nice, yeah?”

  She took in the very small place with a kitchenette and a full-sized bed with bedding that looked soft and inviting and felt a weight lift off her chest that she hadn’t even realized was there. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

  The minute the words left her mouth, she felt embarrassed, but he simply nodded his agreement.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, and then paused at the door.

  She braced herself for him to do something stupid like every man she’d ever met, but all he said was, “If you need anything else, I’m three cottages down on the right. Cottage number two.”

  She ignored the flutter in her belly at that, telling herself it was just the baby. “Thanks,” she said, and then with a gruff nod, he was gone.

  That night, River lay in her comfy bed in her adorable cottage and shook her head. Guilt was her bedmate, but even she had to add, it was a hell of a lot better than being cold and hungry.

  The baby kicked and she rubbed a hand over her belly. “I know,” she murmured. “I can’t believe it either. But there will be a price for this. There always is.”

  Chapter 5

  It’s rude to interrupt my anxiety with your positive thoughts.

  By the time Mark finally dragged his sorry ass home from work several days later, it was six in the morning and he was dead on his feet after a disastrous, tragic pileup on Highway 5 that had left fifteen dead. He walked in the front door of the huge Capriotti family home and went straight to the kitchen.

  He needed food, sleep, and some mind-numbing sex. Since only the first had any chance of actually happening, he opened the fridge and hit the mother lode.

  The one bonus about coming back here to live so his girls would have family around during his crazy work schedule was that his mom and sisters loved to cook. And since they also seemed to think that the way to show love was through food, even more so since his dad had died a few years back after a shockingly short battle with cancer, there was always, always more food in the fridge than an army could consume.

  He started pulling out containers, shifting mental gears from work to the state of affairs of his life. Being back here had never been part of his plan. He’d been career military, thriving on the danger and adrenaline. He’d been away from home for long stretches of time, but he knew that it’d been exactly that that kept his family intact.

  His absence.

  But that’d actually been just an illusion, one that had come crumbling down around him.

  So here he was. Back in Wildstone. There wasn’t a lot of action going on around here—unless you counted the occasional bar fight at the Whiskey River Bar and Grill, or the even more occasional ghost sighting at the B&B up the road.

  The ghost actually made sense. Wildstone had been through several reincarnations in the past century and a half. In the 1890s, there’d been clapboard sidewalks and local silver mines, which had brought in a row of saloons and whorehouses. By the mid-1900s, the town had attempted to legitimize itself and had done away with most of the whorehouses, though the saloons had stubbornly remained. Then the county had discovered winemaking and ranching, and the hills had become dotted with ranches and wineries, including his family’s.

  When the economy had taken a dive, the town had played up its infamous past, marketing the place as a Wild West ghost town, using the historical downtown buildings to draw in tourists. The stunning rolling hills and hidden beaches helped some, but being three and a half hours south of San Francisco and four hours north of Los Angeles put a damper on the place hitting it big.

  In other words, Wildstone was still a sleepy town, emphasis on sleepy. And if he was very lucky and played his cards right and kissed all the right asses as deputy sheriff, maybe, maybe, he could become sheriff of Wildstone. Someday.

  Be still, his beating heart. He shook his head at the disparity of being sheriff compared to what he’d hoped for and kept digging in the fridge. Maybe nothing about the way his life had turned out was what he’d planned, not even close, but his girls needed him here. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, stay his course and let them be parentless. Which meant he’d deal with it. This was his life now. Being Dad.

  Alyssa came into the kitchen, a diaper bag slung over one shoulder, Elsa’s baby carrier balancing her on the other side, and her two boys, Chase and Tanner, bringing up the rear. The boys flashed Mark a fast grin and ran off to play. Alyssa set the baby on the kitchen table and turned to him. “There’s an interesting rumor about you and Lanie.”

  Quiet but not shy, pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way, smart, and talented Lanie. “Is there?”

  �
�That you’re . . . interested.”

  He kept his mouth shut.

  “So is it true?” Alyssa asked.

  Growing up in this family, he’d long ago learned to curb his emotional responses. Denials or admissions, it didn’t matter, his family would think what they wanted. So he didn’t even blink, just paused in his food mission to bend over Elsa and give her a kiss on the top of her soft, downy head.

  The baby spit out her pacifier and gave him a drool-filled smile that caused one of his own—smiles, that is. Not drool. And then he went back to pulling out leftovers from whoever had cooked dinner last night. It could’ve been any of them—they all cooked like five-star chefs. It was a point of Capriotti pride.

  But though Mark could cook too, he much preferred to eat.

  Gracie, hearing the fridge, came running, expression hopeful.

  “You deaf?” Alyssa asked when Mark grabbed a fork from a drawer and began to eat standing up, leaning against the counter.

  “Nope,” he said, flipping a bite to Gracie, who caught it in midair with an easy snap of her jaws. The overgrown puppy couldn’t turn a corner without running into a wall, but if food was involved, she had the grace and skill of an Olympic athlete.

  “The vet said she’s getting fat,” Alyssa said.

  “She’s just right,” Mark said.

  Gracie gave him a look of pure adoration.

  Alyssa looked on in disgust as Mark continued to inhale the cold food. “Dude, there’s a microwave just behind you.”

  He shrugged. He was way too hungry to wait two minutes for the food to get heated.

  Alyssa sighed, grabbed another plate, loaded it up, stuffed it into the microwave, and when it dinged, she took his plate, exchanging it for the hot one.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Ulterior motive,” she said and grabbed a fork and proceeded to share the goods.

  “You okay?” he asked when the hunger had slowed down some and no longer threatened to eat him whole.

  “I’m great,” she said. “Now you.”