by Tawna Fenske
“This isn’t in person.”
“You know what I mean. Not on TV or in magazines or whatever. And the way he looks at you before he kisses you. He’s not just fooling around, Ness.”
I fumble with the volume, struggling to turn it down while wanting desperately for her to continue. “You can’t really tell all that over the phone.”
“Damn right I can,” she insists. “I can read it on your face, too. You’re smitten.”
I consider arguing, but what’s the point?
“Yeah,” I admit, glancing toward the kitchen where Dean is humming what sounds like Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love” as he cuts up brownies. “I guess I am pretty smitten.”
“Put him back on,” she demands. “I want to ask him questions. Make sure he’s worthy of you and all that.”
“What’s that?” I rub my hand over the phone’s camera, making crackly noises with my mouth. “We must have a bad connection or something. If I lose you—”
“Shut up, dork.” Val’s laughing as her husband slips into the frame behind her.
Josh kisses her temple and hands her a cup of coffee. “Hey, Ness,” he says. “Special delivery latte. Sorry I can’t bring you one.”
“That’s okay. I’m getting brownies.”
“Atta girl.”
My heart feels so full. I love that my sister and I both have good men who bring us drinks and brownies and smile at us like we hung the damn moon. I know it’s early days with Dean, but it just feels right. I trust him, and I’m pretty sure he trusts me. I’ve never had that before, not really.
When I glance back at Val, the look on her face is pure love. She whispers something to Josh as he walks away, and my heart catches in my throat as he trails a hand along her arm. It’s like he can’t bear to stop touching her, and I suddenly want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
As I glance back toward the kitchen, Dean looks up. Grinning, he throws me a wink and mouths two simple words:
You’re beautiful.
God. Could I be falling in love with him?
I shift my gaze back to the phone and see Valerie assessing me. “I’ve never seen you this happy, Ness,” she murmurs. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
“I’ll try.”
She smiles and sips the wine Josh brought her. “I should go get ready. It’s our one month anniversary, so I’m shopping for a dress to wear to dinner.”
“A romantic anniversary dinner in Paris. Sounds amazing.”
“Say goodbye to Dean for me.” She smiles and lowers her voice to barely a whisper. “I really like him.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m glad it’s more than a fling.” Her words tilt up in an unspoken question, so I answer without thinking.
“Maybe?” I glance toward the kitchen, where Dean’s still humming as he piles brownies on a plate. “I’m glad I have your approval, though. That means a lot.”
She laughs. “Like you’ve ever needed my approval. You just need to trust yourself.”
I have to swallow a couple times to get rid of the lump in my throat. “Thanks. I’ll try.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up as Dean walks back into the room carrying a plate with brownies and a big glass of milk. “Shoot, did I miss her?”
“She had to go, but she said goodbye. Also, she approves of you.”
I say it with a teasing tone, but Dean’s whole face lights up. “Yeah? That’s huge. The sibling approval thing, I mean.”
I pluck a brownie off the plate and take a bite. It’s a little too hot and falling apart, but I scarf it down anyway and reach for the milk. “What do your siblings know?”
“About us, you mean?” He shrugs. “They all know we’re seeing each other.”
“All of them?” I swallow. “Even your brothers?”
“Yep. Everyone approves.”
I wait for more, not sure what else I’m expecting. “So they don’t see any sort of conflict with our work relationship?”
“Nope.” He pops a bite of brownie in his mouth and grins. “They’re nuts about you, and they see I’m happy. That’s pretty much all they need to know.”
“Huh.” Could it really be that simple? My sister approves. His brothers and sisters approve. I know it’s not what I planned when I took this job, but maybe changing my mind isn’t the worst thing. Maybe I could learn to think of it as growth, rather than flakiness.
“What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” He grabs another brownie off the plate.
“Just wondering how to think about this,” I say slowly. “What we’re doing together, I mean.”
He stares at me blankly for a second, and I realize I’ve just spit out a big mouthful of nothing.
Be brave. Be specific. Be clear.
Dean smiles. “Did I just watch you give yourself a silent pep talk?”
“What?”
“Your lips moved a little.” He cocks his head. “I’m not sure, but I think you told yourself ‘bean bake, beet pacific, bee click.”
And now I’m laughing. “What the hell kind of pep talk is that?”
“Beats me.” He licks brownie off his thumb, then his forefinger. “You’re the one giving it.”
I take a deep breath. “This is me being brave, Dean. This is me telling you that I know I told you I didn’t want a relationship, but these last few weeks have changed my mind. Changed me. I like you a lot, but more than that, I trust you.”
“Wow.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s huge.”
The fact that he knows what a big deal it is means so much to me. “Right. It is.”
He laces his fingers through mine and smiles. “Thank you. I feel the same. I know I kinda fucked up my last relationship, and I own that. But being with you—it makes me want to be a better guy. To do better with you because you deserve it. You deserve everything, Vanessa.”
These are not romantic declarations like the kind you’d see in movies. They’re the words of two mistrustful people putting their hearts and vulnerabilities on the line, and that means so much more to me than flowery words could.
“So we’re on the same page,” I say. “We’re dating. In a relationship. Whatever you want to call it.”
Dean grins and squeezes my fingers. “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Ew. That sounds like elementary school.”
“I see. So you’ll probably nix ‘schmoopies’ or ‘baes,’ right?”
“Affirmative.” I’m fighting to hold back a smile.
Dean leans back against the couch, throwing an arm around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s see, there’s ‘bed buddies,’ but that’s a little too focused on the sex. We’re more than that, yes?”
“Yes.” I nod in case I wasn’t clear enough. “Definitely, yes.”
“Okay, hmm.” He pretends to think. “Partners?”
“Makes it sound like we’re in business together.”
“Technically, we are, but I get your point.” He pulls me closer and I burrow against the warmth of his chest. “I’m thinking ‘companions’ is a little too geared toward old people.”
“Same with ‘lady friend’ or ‘gentleman friend.’”
“And ‘lovers’ is pretty oogie.”
“For sure.” Talk about TMI.
“What about ‘significant others’?” he tries.
I consider that for a bit. “That could work, but it sounds a little detached. Like we go to a restaurant and one of us is all, ‘my significant other is just parking the car.’”
“You’re right, that won’t do.” He scratches his chin. “We’re running out of options here.”
I circle a hand on his chest as I circle back through the words we’ve tried. On second thought…
“Maybe boyfriend and girlfriend isn’t so bad.” I bite my lip. “If you’re ready to go there, I mean.”
Dean grins like I’ve offered a hand job and a ham sandwich. “I’m r
eady if you are.”
“I am.” I can’t believe it, but I am.
“Well, in that case, there’s something else I’m ready for.”
“Oh?” I know what he means from the glint in his eye, but I pretend not to get it. “You want more brownies?”
“I want something sweet, but not brownies.” He slips a thumb under my chin and tips my head up to kiss me. It starts out slow and sweet, his tongue brushing mine with the taste of chocolate and heat.
By the time he draws back, I’m panting and clutching at the front of his shirt.
“What do you say we go consummate this official relationship?”
I lean up to kiss him again, breathless with anticipation. “Sounds like a plan.”
When I wake the next morning, Dean’s beside me. That’s new.
“Morning,” he murmurs, rolling over to kiss me softly.
“You didn’t go home.” It’s such an unexpected thrill that I can’t keep from smiling. “Usually you slip out to go exercise or work or whatever you do at your place.”
He laughs and kisses me again. “Figured being in an official relationship calls for a sleepover.” Throwing his legs out of bed, he stands up and starts pulling on his jeans. “I should get back, though. I like showering at my place.”
“Oh?” I prop my chin on my hand as Roughneck jumps up to occupy Dean’s warm spot on the bed. “You have better water pressure or something?”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m kinda picky about toothpaste and razors and shower gel. Breakfast, too. Like I always have an omelet with two eggs, peppers, mushrooms, swiss cheese, and a little bit of bacon.” He makes a face. “Sorry, I know it’s lame. I’m sure I could make do with whatever you have here, but—”
“No, I get it. I’m picky, too.” Picky enough to finally hold out for a guy who ticks all my boxes. I still can’t believe I’m in a relationship.
Dean leans down and kisses me. “I love that smile. It means you’re thinking happy thoughts. Or maybe dirty thoughts.”
I grin. “Maybe both.”
He laughs and finishes finger-combing his hair. “I might be a couple minutes late getting to the office. Gotta take care of some busywork.”
“Need help?”
“Nah, I’ve got it.” He starts for the door, then pauses. “Thank you, Vanessa.”
“For banging you silly?”
Dean laughs. “For that, yes. But also for giving us a chance.”
“You’re welcome.” I can’t contain the smile tugging the edges of my mouth. “Thanks for being patient with me.”
“You’re worth the wait.”
Blowing me a kiss, he slips out of the room. When I hear the front door shut, I get up and throw the lock before heading to the shower.
I take my time getting ready, noticing the extra flush in my cheeks that might be beard burn. Or maybe it’s just happiness. Even if I failed at my goal to stay single, I failed in the most spectacularly delicious way with a guy who’s amazing.
More importantly, I trust him. I trust him to let me stand on my own two feet and be the person I’m meant to be. Have I ever been with anyone like that? My brain scans the rolodex of men I’ve dated. Nope, no one comes close.
But it’s less about them and more about me finally learning to make good choices. That’s the best part of all this.
Since my morning is off to such a sunny start, I pull on my favorite champagne-colored dress that Val says makes my eyes sparkle. Leaving my hair loose the way Dean likes it, I throw together a quick breakfast scramble with egg whites and tomatoes to save me from spending money and calories at the coffee shop. I even make my own coffee in a reusable mug that Lana gave me yesterday.
I don’t care who dies in a movie as long as the dog lives.
I’m smiling about it as I walk the sun-dappled cinder path to the lodge. It’s a quarter to nine, and the June sunshine bathes the basalt cliffs in a red-gold glow. Even the junipers look brighter this morning, with tufts of blue berries bouncing on the breeze. I reach the main lodge and push through the side door off the corridor to my office. I’m halfway down the hall when Cooper’s voice rings from the doorway next to mine.
“Maybe he didn’t know it isn’t her in the picture,” he says. “Could be he got the wrong twin by mistake.”
I freeze at the edge of his door. Twin? We make up three percent of the world’s population but come on. He has to be talking about me.
Heartbeat thudding in my ears, I take a small step forward. I’m not trying to spy. I legit have to pass by to reach my office, but yeah, I’m curious who he’s talking to.
Cooper has his back to the door, and Amy Lovelin stands facing him with arms folded over her chest. She’s not in her cop clothes and looks sharp in slim black jeans and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. Her inner cop must sense me there, because she looks up and frowns.
“Vanessa. Hey.”
Cooper whirls around, mask slipping into place just a few seconds after I register surprise in his eyes. “Morning, Vanessa. You’re early.”
I glance at my watch. It’s ten minutes to nine, but that’s nothing new. “Were you guys talking about the postcard or something?”
Cooper opens his mouth to answer, but Amy beats him to it. “We were discussing the attacks on Juniper Ridge and how the assailant seems zeroed in on you specifically.”
Interesting. Is it just me, or did she not really answer the question?
Cooper looks uneasy, and his posture’s ramrod straight instead of slouchy like normal. He studies me like he’s searching for words. “Have you seen Dean this morning?”
“About an hour ago.” I decide to leave it at that and not mention he spent the night at my place. “How come?”
“Just curious if he said anything about…anything.”
Huh? “About what?”
Amy clears her throat. “Are you doing all right, Vanessa? No new threats or anything unusual happening?”
Okay, now they’re creeping me out. Something’s niggling the back of my brain, something I can’t quite grab.
It hits me like a sucker punch. “Wait. You said something about getting the wrong twin. Did something happen to Valerie? Is she in trouble or hurt or—”
“No!” Amy steps forward, shouldering past Cooper. “Your sister is safe and healthy in Paris right now.”
My mouth goes dry. “How did you know my sister’s in Paris?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Dean’s kept me apprised of all relevant details.” Her expression is perfect cop-neutral, but something in her eyes tells me there’s more to the story. Why would Dean need to share where my sister lives?
Cooper’s brow is furrowed, and he keeps throwing glances at Amy. “Is Dean on his way in?”
“I—yeah, sometime in the next hour.” Why the hell is no one being straight with me? I try again. “What’s going on here?” My voice comes out squeaky and I hate it. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Cooper turns to Amy, his expression vaguely annoyed. “Let me guess—he asked you not to say anything?”
Amy doesn’t answer, but I see her jaw clench. Otherwise, her expression is completely unreadable. “I’m not at liberty to discuss details of a pending investigation.”
She meets my gaze and holds it, eyes softening with unspoken apology. For what?
Cooper drags his fingers through his hair. “Goddammit. This is just like him.”
“What?” I’m still trying to understand what’s happening.
He heaves a sigh. “Look, Dean’s in charge. I’m sure he has reasons for—for whatever it is he’s doing.”
A sick feeling puddles in the pit of my stomach. I curl my fingers into my palms and step forward, hoping they can’t see my hands shaking. “Tell me.” I take another step into the office. “Whatever this is involves me, right?”
Amy shifts from one leg to the other, and I realize there’s a holster on her hip. A gun, she’s wearing a gun. Is that odd? I’ve
never noticed it before.
“Look, Dean should be in shortly,” she says. “I’m sure he can explain everything—”
“Last night,” Cooper says, taking a step toward me. “Gabe and I got to Dean’s place around eight.”
“Cooper.” There’s a warning note in Amy’s voice.
“What? He didn’t order me to keep my mouth shut. I’m not going to stand here and bullshit her.”
“I appreciate that,” I say faintly, pretty sure whatever he’s about to tell me could open a can of squirmy sibling worms.
Cooper reads my mind. “It’s fine. Dean might be the bossy big brother, but he’s sure as fuck not my boss. I’m supposed to speak up when I think he’s being a dumbass.”
“That’s in your job description?” I’m trying for lighthearted, but my voice cracks on the last syllable.
“Yeah.” Cooper offers a smile that’s achingly kind. “Anyway, Gabe and I got to Dean’s place last night and there was a photo stuck on the door. A photo with a knife through it.”
My knees start to buckle. I grab the edge of the desk and fight to keep my voice even. “Another photo of me?”
Even as I say the words, I know that’s not it. Not all of it, anyway. “That’s what we thought,” he says. “But it wasn’t you. Dean figured that out pretty quick.”
The other shoe drops, and I force myself to swallow a few times before speaking. “My sister. It was a photo of Val, wasn’t it?”
Amy stares at me, not saying anything. If I weren’t staring right at her, I’d never notice the tiniest tilt of her head. Maybe a nod, or maybe I imagine it.
But I’m not imagining the flood of nausea swirling in my gut. As I grip the desk tighter, Amy’s gaze flicks over my shoulder, then flashes with alarm. I know without turning who’s behind me. I can feel his presence, smell the grassy, woodsy scent of his shampoo.
Slowly, I pivot. As Dean’s hazel eyes lock with mine, I see him register what’s happened. Maybe he heard, or maybe he can tell by the stricken look on my face.
How could he spend the night with me and not say a word? How could he sit there on my couch making small talk with my sister and never think to share that someone stuck a knife through her picture and tacked it to his door?