Rainy Day Friends

by Jill Shalvis

He was still on his knees at her chair, his hands on her belly, their faces close enough to share air. Or kiss. It felt incredibly . . . intimate. Terrifyingly so, and she scooted back her chair so fast she almost tipped it over. She certainly would have if he hadn’t caught the armrests and kept her upright.

  “Careful,” he said.

  “Yes. I . . . need to remember to be careful,” she said and busied herself with putting her things back in her first aid kit.

  He rose to his feet. “You’re good at this,” he said quietly, stretching his arm as if testing it for pain, making her realize that he’d most certainly felt the cut—he’d just been able to ignore it.

  “I was going to be a nurse,” she said.

  “Was?”

  “I took a semester of early-morning classes before my waitressing shift, but had to quit.”

  They both looked down at the baby bump.

  “Being an LVN wasn’t realistic anyway,” she said.

  “Why not? You can do anything you want to do.”

  “Says a guy who probably has never found himself knocked up.”

  “Got me there,” he said. “I’ve never been pregnant.”

  “Or devastated by life.”

  He slid her a look. “You think you’ve got a lock on that, do you?”

  She looked into his deep blue gaze, saw the pain he hid, and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to make any assumptions.”

  “If you have a question you want to ask me, ask.”

  “I think maybe you have that backward,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Is it me, or all men?”

  “All men,” she said without hesitation.

  He looked at her and nodded. “Okay, that I can work with.”

  “It wasn’t a challenge, Holden. I’m not in a place to be interested in anyone, especially not . . .”

  “Especially not what?”

  “Someone I want to be interested in.”

  “Maybe that will change.”

  She was already shaking her head before he finished the sentence. He was stoic, rugged, had nerves of steel, and therefore was steady as a rock. All very attractive traits to her and maybe if she wasn’t so . . . damaged, not to mention a huge fraud, she’d be tempted. “Don’t count on it,” she whispered, pulling free. “Or me. I’m not worth it.”

  “We’re going to have to agree to disagree there,” he said.

  Cora came through. “Oh, Holden honey, I’m so glad to see you here. I was just going to text you. River’s going to need some help and both Mia and Alyssa are busy.”

  “I don’t need help,” River said.

  “Not yet, but I’ve got a group of fifteen coming through.”

  “I’ve got it,” Holden said. “No problem.”

  River shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

  “You’ve both got it,” Cora said. “It’s Wildstone’s city council. I’ve lured them up here for lunch, some wine tasting, and to visit our horses and spread, all in the hope of getting them to host some of their annual events here to up our coverage. So I need River’s amazing hostess skills turned up to a ten and I need my horse wrangler to be the strong, silent cowboy type to put the fear of God and/or Cora into anyone who attempts something stupid to show off.” She shook her head. “I went to school with five of those men, and trust me when I say stupid is likely to happen.” She blew them a kiss and vanished.

  Five minutes later, fifteen city council men and women arrived. River was extremely aware of Holden at her side as she walked everyone through the place, and when they got to the stables, he effortlessly took over, introducing the group to the horses, showing them around, pointing out the wild horses in the far pasture.

  “You’re young to know so much about horses,” one of the women said to Holden.

  “I’ve been here since I was fifteen,” he said.

  “You’re not a Capriotti.”

  “No,” he said. “But they took me in as if I was.”

  “Oh,” she said with a soft smile. “You’re the young man she always brags about. She took you in off the streets.”

  “Yes, ma’am, she did.”

  “And you went into the army to make something of yourself. She’s so proud of you.”

  “And I’m grateful to her,” he said. “To all of the Capriottis. If you bring your business out here, they’ll take care of you, I can promise you that.”

  River had turned to look at him, but he didn’t meet her gaze, just went about handling the large group with what looked like effortless ease. Later, when everyone had gone and they stood in the reception area once again, she stared at him. “You must think I’m a self-centered, spoiled bitch.”

  “I don’t think that at all.”

  “What do you think?” she whispered.

  “That I’m grateful our thoughts don’t appear in bubbles over our heads.”

  She laughed a little, but considered the look in his eyes. It was something different. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what this look was, but it made her heart beat a little too fast and sent a rush of happy straight through her body. She was still staring at him when his cell phone buzzed. Without taking his gaze off her, he reached back and silenced it.

  “What if it’s work?” she asked, feeling panicked that he’d risk getting in trouble for her. “Holden, please. Get it.”

  And the moment he did, reluctantly, she scooped up her stack of things that needed copying and beat it to the employee staff room.

  When she got back to her desk five minutes later, Holden was gone and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Or so she told herself.

  She’d been so spoiled these past few weeks here, forgetting what it was like to worry about her next meal or if she’d have enough gas to run the heater when she got cold at night. Forgetting also that she wasn’t the only one with a shitty past. But she didn’t deserve Holden, or even to get to know his past. She didn’t deserve any of this. Cora and the Capriottis had her worries easing away, and knowing it—and the real reason she’d come here—had guilt eating her insides away.

  TWO DAYS LATER Lanie came by to get her for lunch, as she did every day now.

  Like they were more than coworkers. Like they were friends. Lanie treated her like she meant something to her.

  It both warmed River in ways she hadn’t realized she needed warming and also only served to increase the weight of that ball of guilt seated heavily in her chest.

  The tables were already filling up as everyone came outside. She and Lanie took the very end of the far table because Lanie preferred the quietest corner and liked to lay low.

  Fine with River, since she felt like an imposter.

  That’s because you are, a little voice in her head whispered nastily.

  Lanie looked over at her and gave a small smile, and a little bit more of River’s happy bubble burst. Every time Lanie was nice to her, every single time, it was a visceral reminder that she shouldn’t still be here. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “Do what?” Lanie asked.

  “Be nice to me.”

  “Yes, but they taught us in kindergarten, so . . .”

  River choked out a laugh, but it rang hollow because it wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest.

  “You feeling better?” Lanie asked.

  “Yes,” she fibbed. “Much.”

  “And you don’t have to do that,” Lanie said.

  “What?”

  “Lie.”

  River met Lanie’s knowing gaze. “I’m a pro at it, you know,” Lanie said casually. “Pretending to be good. Really good at it. I’m maybe even the queen, but you’re close.”

  “So I’m what, the princess of being full of shit?”

  Lanie laughed. “Yeah. You can be the princess.”

  Which made them family. She could see Lanie take in the same thought as well and she gave River a little smile that she absolutely did not deserve. Not one little bit. Because as much as she wanted it to
be true, as much as she wished she’d never started this stupid deceit, that she could indeed be family with Lanie, she couldn’t. She’d screwed that up and there was no taking it back.

  Except, of course, to tell the truth . . .

  Which she absolutely couldn’t do.

  “Something’s bothering you,” Lanie said quietly. “And before you deny it,” she added when River opened her mouth to do just that, “remember I’m the queen.”

  River shrugged. “Do you ever feel like you’re just a kid playing dress-up? But that no one knows it but you?”

  “You mean you don’t think you really fit into this world,” Lanie said.

  “I know I don’t.”

  Lanie gave a wry smile. “I don’t think the Capriottis worry about that sort of thing. They don’t seem to mind that we’re from different worlds.”

  River was surprised. “You fit in.”

  “No,” Lanie said quietly. “I’m playing dress-up, just like you.”

  That couldn’t be true. Lanie was refined and smart and sophisticated and . . . just about everything River wasn’t. But Lanie didn’t say things she didn’t mean—River knew that much about her already—and for a beat they just looked at each other before River shook her head, trying to come up with something to say.

  Thankfully Mia came over, muttering about not giving a “flying fuck” about something.

  “You still mad about the girls not doing their fair share?” Alyssa asked from across the table.

  “No,” Mia said. “As I mentioned just now, I don’t give a flying fuck.”

  “Well, you should give a fuck,” Alyssa said. “You really should—but only about things that set your soul on fire. Save your fucks for the magical shit.”

  River thought that was the smartest piece of wisdom she’d ever heard. From now on, she was saving all her flying fucks for magical shit that set her soul on fire.

  Mia took a sip of water and eyed her sister. “I heard Owen ate your last two cookies yesterday and you needed an exorcism. But by the look on your face now, you’ve made up.”

  “Last night,” Alyssa said, “I came home to a note on the door that said: ‘Hey, baby, welcome home—I’m hiding in the house with one of our two Nerf guns and here’s the other. Loser cooks dinner tonight. May the odds be ever in your favor. Love you!’” She grinned. “He lost. He cooked. Both in the kitchen and the bedroom, if you know what I’m saying.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “I only wish I didn’t know what you were saying.”

  “Your problem is that you’re going for the wrong guy,” Alyssa said. “You know what’s sexier than your usual bad boy? A grown-ass man with his shit together. Maybe try finding a guy not on a dating site.”

  Mia nodded. “I’m one step ahead of you. I’ve moved on to pizza delivery guys because at least I know they have a job, a car, and pizza.”

  “Do you see yourself finding a husband on a dating app?” Alyssa asked.

  “No, because I don’t want a husband. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. One hundred percent of pizza deliveries end in happiness.”

  Everyone smiled but River. Because she’d purposely dated up last time, going for the classy guy. And look where that had gotten her. And with that thought, the very last of her happiness drained and she palmed her baby bump.

  Catching the motion, Lanie looked at her. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course,” she said, her automatic response. Because people always asked her how she was feeling, but she’d learned they didn’t expect the truth.

  Although here at the winery, it was actually the complete opposite. People asked because they cared, they really cared, and yet her rote response was still the same because what was her alternative? Tell the truth, be forced to give up the job, and go back to living in her car, feeling sick from fast food or worse, no food at all?

  Cora came through with a tray of brownies for dessert and the entire crowd moaned in mutual delight. They were double fudge and one bite brought back memories of being in a warm kitchen, licking the spatula. “I used to make these with my mom,” River heard herself say softly.

  Everyone turned and stared at her, making her remember something else—that she’d managed to dodge almost every single personal question she’d been asked since starting here.

  “Where’s your mom now?” Cora asked kindly. She always spoke kindly, River had discovered, even when she was pissed off. Yesterday she’d spoken kindly to the mailman even when threatening to rip his favorite body part off and feed it to him if he didn’t stop throwing their packages from the driveway to her front door just to avoid Gracie, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  Yep, her boss was the most gentle, most terrifying woman she’d ever met and River wanted to be her when she grew up. “My mom passed away a long time ago,” she said into the curious silence. She went back to her brownie, but everyone seemed to be waiting for more, so she said, “I was fifteen.”

  “So young,” Cora murmured in sympathy. “What happened, honey?”

  “Cancer.” By the time her mom had passed, River had been taking care of her for three years, through treatment after treatment. That’s when she’d realized she wanted to become a nurse, because it’d been the first thing she’d ever been good at.

  “Who raised you after that?” Cora asked.

  “I went into the foster system for a few years,” River said. Until she’d turned eighteen, and she’d been on her own ever since.

  There was a beat of silence.

  “When I was fifteen,” Mia said quietly, none of her usual sarcasm in her voice, “my mom and I were at each other’s throats. One time I got so mad that I told her I was going to call child protective services to get taken away, and she handed me the phone and told me the number was one-eight-hundred-I-Don’t-Give-a-Shit. Which was her doing me a favor because I didn’t want to get taken away. I loved her, I was just a shithead.”

  Cora smiled at her daughter. “You did behave for a while after that. And your heart is always in the right place.”

  Mia blew her a kiss and Cora smiled fondly in her direction before taking River’s hand in her own. “You’ve had a rough road.”

  River shook her head. “Not that much rougher than a lot of people.” And she’d done okay for herself. Mostly. She’d tried to live good and honest like her mom had taught her, but now here she was, pregnant and sick and still at the place she’d come to steal from. Letting out a shaky breath, she rubbed her stomach.

  “Have you been to a doctor recently for a wellness check?” Cora asked.

  “Uh . . . not recently.” Or at all in the past three months. She’d run out of money for that.

  “My best friend runs the local ob-gyn’s office in town,” Cora said. “I’ll get you an appointment. You shouldn’t go alone, though. Do you have anyone to ask to go with you—say, the father of your baby maybe?”

  “I’m okay to go alone,” River said.

  “Well, of course you are, but why should you have to? I’ll take you.” She smiled. “Who better than someone who had way too many babies herself?”

  “Hey,” two of her babies—Mia and Alyssa—said at the same time.

  River was aware that Cora was fishing, but she was doing it in such a nice way that she couldn’t take offense. She knew they all thought she was in over her head, that maybe she was running from something, and that she was scared.

  They certainly had two out of three right.

  Chapter 11

  Overanalyze all the things!

  At the end of the week, Lanie walked into the employee room for a snack and right into a family “discussion,” aka a fight. Apparently, there was some sort of cork emergency that had set the entire family schedule board in chaos, the biggest problem being that Cora could no longer pick up the girls from dance class.

  The thought of getting involved in the family matter gave Lanie a mini panic attack, but so did picturing Sam and Sierra standing alone in front of an emptied-out dance studio
with no one there to pick them up. So she grabbed a dry-erase pen and wrote her name in the empty box.

  This silenced the room. Breathe in for four, out for four. Repeat. Foods she’d eaten today: toast with strawberry jelly, antipasto salad, and dammit, a piece of lasagna because she was weak. Another deep breath, then she turned around and found everyone staring at her. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Cora said, hugging her. “Except thank you.”

  Which was how several hours later, Lanie found herself driving through heavy end-of-the-week traffic to pick up the girls at dance class.

  They were thrilled to see her.

  “Do you ever take dance classes?” Samantha asked.

  Lanie smiled. “My favorite exercise is a cross between a lunge and a crunch. I call it lunch.”

  The girls giggled and went on to chatter all the way home about their new ballet shoes, how Sierra had nailed an arabesque, and that Sam had really really wanted the headband that some girl named Camille was wearing but her dad wouldn’t buy it for her because she’d already spent her allowance on candy.

  “So save next week’s allowance and buy it yourself,” Lanie suggested, glancing into the rearview mirror at Sam.

  The girl’s brow furrowed, like she hadn’t thought of this. “But what if I want more candy?”

  “Well, then,” Lanie said. “I guess you’ve got to decide which you want more, the candy or the headband.”

  Sierra nodded sagely.

  Samantha sighed. “I want both.”

  “Real-world problems,” Lanie said.

  The girls cocked their heads in confusion.

  “That’s sarcasm,” she explained. “See, having to choose between candy and a headband, that’s a problem that a lot of people might wish to have. Instead they’ve got to choose between keeping a roof over their head and food on the table for their kids, and . . . I don’t know, paying the heating bill, that kind of thing. Do you see what I mean?”

  “Real-world problems,” Sam repeated slowly, thoughtfully.

  Real-world problems, Sierra mouthed to herself.

  “Momma used to yell about the bills,” Sam said, staring out the window. “All the time. She said we cost too much.”

  Sierra closed her eyes.