by Tawna Fenske
Um, can you stop recording? Yeah, just scratch the whole thing. That’d be great.
Two days later, I walk into the coffee shop with my nerves a jangled mess. Colleen’s behind the counter and flashes me a broad smile.
“Hey, Vanessa,” she calls. “What’s shakin’?”
“Not a whole lot.”
Just my hands at the prospect of seeing Dean, which is dumb. We’ve slept together dozens of times since that first night at my place. I shouldn’t be this quivery in my excitement about a stupid breakfast meeting.
So much for getting it out of my system.
“You meeting someone, or taking it to go?” Colleen sets her laptop on the counter and stretches, her long gray braid swinging over her shoulder. “I’m getting pretty good at making those designs in the foam. Earlier I made a shamrock for Lana.”
“That was not a shamrock.” Patti emerges from the back room wiping her hands on a dish towel. “It was absolutely a penis.”
Colleen grins at her wife. “Admittedly it’s been a few decades since I’ve seen one, but that didn’t look like any penis I’ve ever met.”
All this talk of penises is bringing my thoughts of Dean to a head, but I try not to let it show. I rest my palms on the counter, scanning the chalkboard menu behind them. “Do I want a vanilla latte or cardamom?”
“Cardamom,” Colleen says without hesitation. “You’ve had the vanilla three days in a row. Time to try something new.”
“Good point.” I try not to read too much into that. It’s not like Colleen has any idea about my habit of repeating mistakes. Not that my lattes have been poor choices, but men…
Stop thinking about men.
Besides, Dean’s not showing signs of being controlling. Great in bed, yes. Sweet and attentive and—
“Can I make that a double?” I ask, dragging a twenty out of my wallet. “And whatever flavor of muffin you’ve got today.”
“Peach rhubarb,” Patti offers helpfully, sliding one onto a plate for me. “Did we tell you we spotted Francine again? And she had a friend with her.”
“No way! That’s awesome.”
Francine is one of several Sierra Red Foxes they’ve been monitoring for the Department of Fish and Wildlife. The species has teetered on the edge of extinction for years, so the sightings here are a big deal.
Colleen cranks some levers on the latte machine. “We watched them on the wildlife cam just down from the southern ridgeline. Must have been around eight, maybe eight-thirty a couple nights ago.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Patti give Colleen a warning look. It takes me a moment to get it.
“The southern ridge?” My voice sounds weirdly high, and I concentrate very hard on scratching a dot of chocolate off my purse strap.
“Yep, maybe a couple hundred yards down.” Colleen finishes my drink and sets it on the counter. “The Department of Fish and Wildlife has five different wildlife cams in the area.”
Heat floods my face. “Oh my God. You—you saw—um—?” I don’t say it out loud, just in case. But it’s clear from the look they exchange that Dean and I didn’t nail the privacy aspect of our outdoor hookup.
I close my eyes, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut when Dean confessed an outdoor tryst was high on his bucket list of unfulfilled sexual fantasies. But come on, it was amazing.
So amazing I start to smile as I open my eyes again and catch Patti studying me with sympathy. “You okay?” she asks.
I nod as another wave of embarrassment washes through me. “Ugh, I’m just—ugh. Sorry.”
Colleen only laughs and messes with some levers on the espresso machine. “Nothing we haven’t seen before, girl.”
“Breathe, sweetie.” Patti adds a second muffin to my plate. “We won’t tell anyone.”
“Just wanted you to be aware,” Colleen adds. “Our lips are sealed if you’d rather not tell D—”
“Tell him,” Patti whispers, throwing me a wink. “God knows it’s going to be tough enough finding privacy in a place like this.”
Isn’t that the truth. When I signed on for this job, I never in a million years thought that would be an issue. How was I supposed to know I’d end up banging the CEO?
“I’m so embarrassed.” I pick an edge off a muffin and glance behind me to make sure Dean’s not early. No sign of him, though I’m just now noticing Mari in the corner. I throw her a friendly wave, but she’s got her face buried in her laptop and doesn’t see me.
I turn back to face Colleen and Patti. “Thank you for being discreet.”
“Not a problem.” Patti smiles and turns back toward the kitchen. “God knows we remember what it’s like to be young and crazy in love.”
“Or not in love.” Colleen regards me with a serious look. “None of our business what you two have going on.”
“Thanks.” I nibble my muffin as Patti wanders into the back room and Colleen starts ringing up my purchase.
As she hands me my change, her expression turns serious again. “By the way, there was another hacking attempt.”
I freeze. “Another?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I sent Dean an email about it but figured you’d want to know.”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure what he’s told her about the snake or postcard or any other incidents. “Did the hacker get through?”
“Nah, we were able to block it.” She shakes her head. “Whoever this guy is, he’s getting sneakier.”
I sip my latte, wishing I had something to add to the conversation. Something besides guilt that I could somehow be behind this. “What do you think is going on?”
Colleen shrugs and leans back against the counter. “Beats me. I’m no cop.”
“Surely you have a theory.”
She takes her time considering that. “I know a lot of folks out here weren’t happy about a bunch of Hollywood elites swooping in and buying a bunch of prime acreage. Especially for a reality TV show.”
“You think that’s it?” The theory ebbs my guilt just a little. “What about some of the cult people? Maybe they’re behind it.”
“Could be.” She shrugs again. “Maybe the new PI will have some insights.”
“Lieutenant Lovelin?” I assume that’s who she means, though a PI and a police chief are hardly the same thing. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
Colleen anchors a lid on my mug and sets it on the counter. “She’s terrific, but I meant the PI. The new guy Dean hired after what happened out at your place.”
She’s looking at me like I’m supposed to know about this, so I do my best imitation of someone with a clue. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” I pick up my drink and take a sip, burning my tongue. “Well, I’m sure someone will get to the bottom of it.”
“Hopefully.”
Grabbing my plate and mug, I turn and head for the table Dean and I have used for our last couple meetings. I’m halfway there when Mari glances up from her laptop. She’s wearing yoga pants and a hoodie sweatshirt, and I’m instantly jealous of how comfy she looks.
“Hey, Vanessa.” She smiles and nudges her glasses up her nose. “Settling in okay?”
“Great,” I tell her. “We’ve got most of the candidates narrowed down on the finance side of things.”
“Wonderful.” She leans back in her chair as her gaze sweeps over me. “I actually meant outside of work. This must be a big change, uprooting your life and having to be on camera. That’s on top of the stress of what happened the other night.”
For a second I think she means sex in the woods with her brother, and it takes my brain a second to catch up. “Oh, you mean the snake.”
Mari folds her hands on the table beside her laptop, studying me with bookish intensity. “I can only imagine how triggering it must be to have someone pinpoint your phobias like that. I was chatting with Oprah a couple years ago and—this was on the air, by the way, so I’m not breaching confidentiality—”
“Of course,” I manage, taken aback by how casual she’s being about
a conversation with television royalty.
“Anyway, Oprah also suffers from globophobia,” Mari continues. “She traces it back to childhood.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
Mari’s sitting straight in her chair, in full-on shrink mode now. “In her case, the fear is rooted in the sound of balloons popping and the fact that it triggers thoughts of gunfire.” She tilts her head to study me. “I don’t suppose that’s a factor for you? Because if it is, there are strategies we can discuss to alleviate some of your fears.”
“That’s very kind.” It really is, and I sense she’s not just speaking as a therapist. That she’s someone who could become a close friend. “I can’t say I’ve had any exposure to gunfire,” I admit. “But I don’t like surprises.”
“Ah, I see.”
I wonder if she does. If she sees everything, not just my fears. If she can tell by looking at me that I’m sleeping with her brother, and that it’s gone way beyond the plan of having sex once to get it out of our systems. Would she tell me in cautious, clinical terms what an abysmally bad idea it is?
I don’t need a shrink to tell me that. I know it.
But somehow, I can’t stop myself from blurting the question. “Is it true about getting closure? About, um…ways to get someone out of your system by being intimate with that person.” I bite my lip as heat rushes my face. “I’m asking for a friend.”
Mari leans forward in her chair. “Have a seat.” She says the words plainly, kindly, with a tone I find myself obeying without question.
Sinking down into the metal and wood chair, I glance around the coffee shop. Colleen and Patti must be in the back room, and Dean’s not due for ten minutes.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, keeping my voice low. “I tried Googling it, but I didn’t find much, and—anyway, I just wondered. You told me at orientation that I could ask personal questions, so—” I shrug, aware that I may have just stuck my foot in it.
But Mari regards me with a calm, professional expression. “Anything you say to me is confidential,” she says. “I do have to warn you that conflict of interest precludes me from serving as your therapist, but I can certainly discuss the issue in general terms.”
“I understand.” I also notice she saw right through my bullshit about asking for a friend.
I sip my latte, grateful Colleen suggested the cardamom. It has a complex citrusy, minty spice to it, which is a nice change from vanilla. “I mean, I get that this show is partly about people hooking up,” I add. “I understand that’s part of the social experiment.”
“Absolutely.” Mari studies me for a few beats. “What do you think changed from when you applied for the position?” Her voice is achingly kind, and any defensiveness I’m feeling dissolves like a sugar cube in hot tea. “As I recall, you indicated that you would prefer to staple your eyebrows to the carpet than find yourself in a romantic relationship.”
“I did write that, didn’t I?” God, I’m an idiot. Oh, and also— “It’s not a relationship.”
She doesn’t say anything to that. Just looks at me with one of those wise, thoughtful expressions shrinks are so good at. It occurs to me I haven’t actually said Dean’s name. Does she know we’re involved, or does she think we’re talking about some random guy?
“Vanessa.” She crosses her legs, never breaking eye contact. “There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults engaging in mutually fulfilling physical contact, assuming they’ve both agreed to those terms.” She pauses, brow furrowing. “You’re consenting, right?”
“Enthusiastically.” I wince. “Yes. I’m consenting.”
Mari doesn’t blink. “There’s clearly something you’re getting from the arrangement. It might behoove you to explore what that is, and whether you’re truly comfortable with whatever it might be costing you in the bigger picture. Perhaps the trade-off is worth it, if you’re ultimately having your needs met.”
“Right.” She has a point, but all I can think about is having my needs met. About the things I’m getting out of the arrangement.
Multiple orgasms.
The best sex of my life.
The pleasure of touching the hottest, sexiest man I’ve ever—
“Okay,” I say, pretty sure I shouldn’t be thinking these things about Dean with his sister sitting across from me. “I guess I can explore that.”
“That’s a terrific idea.”
I love how she frames it like I’m the brilliant one, when all I’ve done is think dirty thoughts about her brother.
She tugs a pen out of her bun, and I expect her hair to tumble down around her shoulders. But no, she’s got two more pens in there, plus maybe a chopstick?
“I’m writing down the name of another therapist who’s top-notch,” she says. “He’s in LA, but he does online appointments. I’d be happy to make an introduction if you’re interested.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” I pocket the card and wonder if I’ll ever use it. “Thank you, Mari. I guess I’m feeling a little lost not talking to my sister every night, you know?”
It might be my imagination, but I swear she flinches just the tiniest bit. “Of course,” she says. “Some of us have been talking about doing regular girls’ nights. Poker or book club or something like that. I can let you know if you’re interested.”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The door chimes, and I look up to see Dean striding through. God, he’s hot. Dark jeans and a blue and white button-down with the top couple buttons unhooked. My face heats up as I remember what it feels like to press my nose into that spot, and I don’t realize Mari’s spoken until she puts her hand on my arm.
“Hey.” Her voice is low and Dean’s out of earshot at the espresso bar, but I lean forward anyway. “There’s no shame in changing your mind. In letting relationships flow where they need to. Just be wary of letting them flow into old patterns.”
“All right, I will.” I want to, anyway. “Thanks, Mari.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I get up and hustle over to the table Dean and I have occupied for our last couple meetings. He’s already set his laptop on it, so I put down my coffee and the muffin plate and drop into the opposite chair.
Dean appears moments later, a cup of coffee gripped in one massive hand. “Damn, that looks delicious.”
I blink up at him, conscious of his eyes skimming my legs. No, not my legs. The muffin perched on the plate at the edge of our table.
“Want one?” I nudge the plate closer. “They gave me two, but I’m really not that hungry.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” He picks up the second muffin and takes a bite, groaning with pleasure. My skin prickles with arousal as my body identifies the sound as something else entirely.
Down, girl.
I glance over at Mari, who’s gone back to typing on her laptop. Colleen’s out of earshot, but I still lean forward and keep my voice low as I grab Dean’s arm.
“Colleen and Patti saw us having sex, and Lana found your wallet in my bathroom, and also Mari might know we’re sleeping together.”
Dean stares at me as he swallows a bite of muffin. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Sorry.” I take my hand back and pry the top off my latte, frowning down at the design. After a few sips, it looks less like a penis and more a misshapen airplane.
“It’s all right, isn’t it?” he asks. “We’re both adults. Not like anyone’s going to judge us for it.”
“Judge you, maybe.” I take a slow sip of my drink, stalling as I gather my thoughts. “I’m worried people won’t take me seriously if they think I’m sleeping with the boss.”
It’s not the only thing I’m worried about, but we’ll start there.
Dean watches me, finger tracing the rim of his favorite mug. “You’re living on the set of a reality show devoted to people pairing up,” he says slowly.
“Isn’t stuff like this to be expected?”
Again, he’s missing the point. “They’ll assume I’m sleeping with you for some kind of career advancement.”
He frowns. “Who’s this mysterious they? Tell me, and I’ll handle it.”
I bite my lip, hating how the whole master-and-commander thing turns me on. “I don’t need you to handle it,” I tell him. “Besides, you can’t handle everyone. What about viewers when the show starts airing?”
“What about them?”
“Come on.” I sip my drink again. “Everyone knows people watch reality shows to judge the participants.”
“Ouch.”
“But true, right?”
He doesn’t say anything right away. “You don’t seem like someone who’d care what strangers think of you.”
“I don’t.” I pick up my drink and blow on it, steam billowing around me. “I care what my colleagues think. In this case, that’s your family. And I care what my friends think, and right now, the cast—the community members who’ve signed on so far—are the closest thing I have to friends.”
“I see.”
I’m not sure he does, but at least he looks like he’s considering it. He takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances out the window. “Is the biggest problem that we work together, or that you just don’t see anything long-term with us?
Wow. “Anyone ever tell you you’re alarmingly blunt?”
“All the time.” He gives me a smile that doesn’t totally reach his eyes, but I don’t get the sense he’d be upset by any answer I might give.
I consider the question a while. “I’m also judging myself, okay?” I sigh and set my cup down on the table. “I came in here determined to take my work seriously and put my love life on the back burner. Here I am only a few weeks in, and I’m boning the boss.”
“Okay, you need to stop calling me the boss.” He leans closer, hazel eyes flashing. “Goliath or He-Man or—”