Show Time (Juniper Ridge Romantic Comedies Book 1)

by Tawna Fenske

  Angry as I am at Dean for doubting me, I know some of this is my fault. I should have told him up front about the investigation. I should have come clean about what happened. I should have done a lot of things, starting with never applying for a such a high-profile job.

  But what’s done is done. Swinging into my chosen bumper car, I steady myself with a hand on the steering wheel. The seat is polished leather and cushier than I expected, and I feel a sudden rush of sadness that I won’t be here to see it up and running.

  I can’t stay, right? There’s no way I can be in charge of finances for a multi-million-dollar community and TV show. Not when the boss doesn’t have faith in me. Not when I’m unsure I have faith in myself.

  And definitely not when the guy I love doesn’t trust me.

  Love. I never said it to him, but I’ve known for a while that’s what I’m feeling. It’s too late now to do anything about it, so I’m grateful I never laid that burden at his feet. Never spoke the words aloud. For now, they’ll stay sealed up tight in my silly, battered heart.

  Slipping my phone out of my purse, I dial my sister’s number. It’s close to dinnertime in Paris, so she’ll be home. Before it connects, I remember her anniversary plans with Josh. I hang up before it rings and switch to text.

  My hands are shaking as I struggle to tap out a message. Between autocorrect and my clumsy thumbs, I find myself on the brink of sending a message that reads, “Can men weaniny get a cheese” instead of “call me when you get a chance,” which is not helping.

  “Dammit to hell!”

  I delete it and hit the voice-to-text key instead.

  “Hey, Val. Call me when you’re done with dinner. It’s not an emergency, so please don’t cut the date short. Dean and I are done, and I could use an ear.”

  I read back through the words, feeling sick inside. What kind of loser can’t handle a breakup by herself?

  The kind who texts her twin at the first sign of heartache. The kind who hides out in a vacant bumper car arena instead of dealing with the problem.

  I delete the words and slip my phone into my handbag. Then I take a few deep breaths. What now?

  I’m considering that when I hear footsteps. Turning around, I see a pretty blonde approaching. She’s wearing tight designer jeans and a cute pink off-the-shoulder top, her sunny hair ruffling in the breeze.

  “Hey there.” She waves, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

  “Hello.” I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, hoping she gets the hint. Now’s not ideal for making friendly small talk with a stranger.

  No dice. “Mind if I join you?”

  I drop my hands to my lap and manage a weak smile. “Actually, I kinda want to be alone right now. Nothing personal. It’s just…not a good time.”

  She smiles and eases herself into the car beside mine, turning on the seat so she’s facing me. Her glamorously long legs stretch out in hiking boots that look more fashionable than functional. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Vanessa.”

  I blink at her, trying to figure out what’s going on. Is she one of the candidates to open an on-site day spa? “Do we know each other?”

  She laughs and holds out her hand, which I accept automatically. “I’m Andi. That’s a great dress, by the way.”

  My mind reels as I try to place the name. I definitely recognize her face, though I can’t figure out how. Is she a friend of Val’s? “I’m sorry, who are you again? We’ve interviewed so many people that everyone’s started blending together.”

  She laughs like I’ve said something hilarious. “I’m not a candidate, sweetie. I already have a career. I’m Andi Knight. Andi has more of a casual, Oregon sort of vibe, don’t you think?”

  I gape at her without forming a response. I honestly have no words. Not until the name clicks in my brain. “Andrea Knight?”

  “That’s right.” She tosses her hair, the blond curtain flowing over her shoulders. “I’m Dean’s fiancée.”

  There’s a roaring in my head that I can’t quite place. I dig my nails into my palms to clear my head. “Andrea Knight.” Holy shit. “Your hair’s different.”

  “You like?” She reaches up and touches her long, golden mane, fingers flowing through it like silk. “I went blond for my last film, and Dean loved it. I figured it’s the least I can do now that we’re back together.”

  I stare at her, not sure how to respond. She expects me to be shocked, that’s clear. Or jealous. I’ve got squiggles of both shifting around in my belly, but mostly, I’m suspicious. Alarm bells ring in my brain, drowning out the emotion as reason surges to the top.

  “I didn’t know you were visiting.” My voice comes out surprisingly calm. “Dean’s back at the lodge if you’re looking for him.”

  “Oh, we’ll catch up.” She waves a manicured hand, gold bracelet flashing on her wrist. “I wanted to talk with you, first. Woman to woman. I thought you should hear it from me that Dean and I are working things out. I’m moving here to be with him.”

  “I see.” I clear my throat and hold her gaze. I’m not sure I believe her, but I know better than to respond emotionally. “Well, good luck with that.”

  This is not the reaction she’s expecting. She wants me to break down crying, pleading with her not to steal my man. She expects me to rant and yell and yeah, part of me wants to do that.

  But something’s definitely off here.

  Maybe it’s the weird glint in her expression or the fact that she’s not quite meeting my eyes. I know I’ve questioned whether my intuition is busted, but right now, it feels spot-on.

  Andrea keeps laying it on thick. “It’s been tough on our relationship being apart like this,” she continues like this is a friendly girls’ chat. “I won’t lie; I wasn’t a fan of having him move all the way to Oregon to do the show.”

  I nod slowly, playing it cool. “Long-distance relationships are tough.”

  She narrows her eyes, studying me like she can’t figure out if I’m yanking her chain. I keep my expression bland as I slip my fingers into my handbag and fish around for that mini recorder. I know it’s in here somewhere.

  “Well, now we won’t be long distance.” She delivers a cold, calculated smile. “The ranch I’m buying is less than an hour away. Super-cute, with a gym and home theater and everything.”

  “That’s great.” Does she think I want to know this? I fumble for the button on the recorder, considering what I’d say if I were really buying her story. “I mean, I’ll miss Dean and all, but you two have a history.”

  She frowns but takes the bait. “Right, well. We had our problems, but I think most of them will resolve themselves once I’m out here.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.”

  I can’t tell if I’ve pressed the right button on the recorder, and Andrea will definitely notice if I pull it out to check. I cross my fingers I’ve got it right as I scan the bumper car arena. We’re far from the lodge, far from the cabins, too. My brain flicks to Amy Lovelin and her gun, but she’s nowhere around.

  I’m on my own.

  Andrea keeps talking. “I know you and Dean have had something going on. Look, I don’t blame him for wanting to get back at me for…well, you understand, right? But that was a fling. We’ve planned a future together.”

  “Absolutely.” I start to ease up off the seat. “How about I get out of your hair right now?”

  I’m on my feet, but Andrea stands, too. She’s much too close, and a good five inches taller. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Um, back to my cabin?” I edge sideways, wondering if I should make a run for it. “I’m sure you and Dean will be really happy together. Good luck with—”

  “Don’t patronize me.” Her green eyes narrow, and she looms over me, her friendly girl-chat demeanor vanishing. “I know you fucked him last night. And I know he’s in love with you. He said so in an email to Mari just this morning.
”

  “I—what?” I don’t know where to start with that. That he told his sister he loves me? That he didn’t mention it to me?

  Or that Andrea just admitted she’s been into the company email.

  I seriously doubt she’s some hacker mastermind, but money can buy lots of things.

  I keep edging away, crossing my fingers she doesn’t notice my progress toward the steps. “I don’t want any trouble, Andi. How about you go talk with Dean? He’s probably in his office. You could surprise him.”

  “Oh, I will.” The smile that spreads over her pretty face is one I’ve seen in movies. The sexpot assassin preparing to knock off her evil nemesis. Is that how she sees me?

  I’m still creeping sideways, aiming for the steps off the back edge of the platform. “It’s been great meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you ar—”

  “Stop right there!”

  I freeze, still ten feet from the edge. It’s too far to run, but do I really have a choice? “Let’s just calm down.”

  It’s the wrong thing to say to an unhinged actress. I see that instantly from the glint in her eyes, the flash of too-white teeth. She slips a hand into her jacket pocket. I jump back, expecting a gun.

  Instead, she pulls out—“A needle?”

  She smiles and turns it over in her palm. “A syringe, very good.”

  I frown, trying to make sense of it. “That’s actually not one of my phobias.”

  It dawns on me that Andrea’s the one who left the snake on my porch. Andrea, or someone working for her. They spied and sleuthed and dug through private messages to probe for weakness. But what’s the syringe for?

  “Phobia or not, you should be afraid, sweetie.” She flicks the barrel of the syringe with her fingernail, flashing her mean little smile. “Amazing what you can find on the dark web. Did you know it’s possible to buy actual rattlesnake venom?”

  “What?” I feel the blood drain from my face, but Andrea just laughs.

  “A few quick pricks, and it’ll look like you tangled with a Diamondback.” She laughs again, and it’s the nastiest sound I’ve heard. “Poor Nessie, wandered off the path in her pretty little dress.”

  Hearing her use my sister’s nickname for me makes me want to slap her. She’s almost close enough. Would it make things worse or throw off her balance enough for me to get away? I struggle to clear my head, to recall what Val and I learned in our weekend self-defense class. Could I fight if I had to?

  Andrea takes a step toward me. “Such a shame.”

  I brace myself to throw a punch as fear ripples up my spine. “That’s not necessary.” I edge away, heart drumming in my ears. “Just let me go, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

  “No dice, sweetie. You think you can fuck my fiancé and not pay for that?” She shakes her head almost sadly. “I need you out of the picture permanently. How could I trust he wouldn’t slip up again?”

  “Trust seems to be the theme of the day.” I grip my handbag, ready to swing at her head if she keeps coming.

  She strikes, quick as a snake. One second she’s standing there, the next she’s got my wrist in a vise grip. She jerks me toward her, catching me off guard. “This will hardly hurt at all.”

  I kick out at her, but she jumps back and laughs. “I do my own stunts, did you know that?”

  “I might have read that somewhere.” My two hours of self-defense training is no match for that, but I have to try. I’m drawing my handbag back to swing it, but Andrea grabs it and tosses it on the ground.

  “Good idea,” she says. “That’s where you dropped it when you spotted the snake. Now come on, cooperate. This would look better in your ankle or calf or something.”

  “Go to hell.” I take a wild swing at her, but she ducks back, laughing as she pushes me toward the wall.

  The needle flashes in her fist as she draws it back like a knife. “Let’s get this over with. If I know Dean, he’ll come looking for you soon.”

  That does sound like Dean, and I hate that she knows him like I do. I hate that I may never get a chance to tell him how I feel.

  But mostly, I hate that I’ll never know if we might have made it. If I’d told him I love him, if we’d talked it through like adults. If I’d had a chance to fight like hell for the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  I’m not done fighting. I kick out again, nailing her in the shin this time. Andrea gives a startled yelp but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Goddammit, Vanessa.”

  She slashes wildly with the syringe, but I bob back and feel the whoosh of air past my face. I’m breathing fast, trying not to panic, as I struggle to break her hold.

  “You’re insane,” I snap, which is overstating the obvious.

  “Come on, Vanessa.” She’s got my back to the wall now, and I wonder if I can use it as leverage to land another kick. “It’ll all be over quickly.”

  Her grip on my wrist loosens, and I seize the chance to swing again. This time, my fist connects with the side of her head.

  “Ow!” She shrieks and tries to slap me. I duck, and while I’m down there, head-butt her in the chest.

  She goes down hard, pulling me with her. Shit, she’s got a grip on my leg.

  “Even better,” she snarls, fingers tightening around my ankle.

  I twist away, throwing another blow that falls short. She’s on top of me now, pushing me onto my back. She’s got her shin across my windpipe, and I wheeze as stars flicker behind my eyelids.

  If I could just shove her off and get to my handbag. There’s surely something in there that could work as a weapon. Keys. A candle in a heavy glass jar. A stapler.

  I’m kicking and flailing and trying to get her off me. My vision is blurring, and I don’t know how long I have before I black out. I drag my brain for the steps to break a chokehold, but all I come up with is my grandma’s brownie recipe. I turn my head to the side, fighting for breath, fighting for just enough air to scream.

  But Andi laughs and grips my calf, then raises the needle to swing.

  Chapter 19

  CONFESSIONAL 422.5

  Judson, Dean: (CEO, Juniper Ridge)

  Did I ever tell you about the first film I was involved with? No, it was in grad school. You were just a kid. Anyway, we couldn’t get the actors to sign on, and the director was a hot mess, but I loved that script. Busted ass to find funding, but no one would bite. It was all about redemption and forgiveness and learning to admit when you’re wrong. Also, there were zombies. And monster trucks. No, it never got made. The title? Never Too Late to Say Sorry.

  I still like those zombies.

  I’m jogging to Vanessa’s cabin when I hear it.

  Lana’s voice chattering away in an odd, growly sort of baby-talk. I round the corner and nearly crash into Roughneck.

  “Jesus, Dean.” Lana throws an arm out as Roughneck jumps and bounces at the end of his leash. “Why are you running?”

  “Gotta find Vanessa.” Panting, I brace my hands on my thighs and curse the high desert altitude. I’m still not used to it. “It’s an emergency.”

  Lana’s brow furrows. “She’s not at her cabin. I was just there grabbing Duke Doggo. I think she was going to the waterpark.”

  “The waterpark?” I scan the trees on the north edge of the property. We’re not that far from the spot I saw in that video, and the thought makes my skin crawl. “Did she say why?”

  “No, but she looked upset.” She studies my face, a faintly accusing look in her eye. “Please tell me you don’t really think she cheated on the CPA exam.”

  “Lana, I—”

  “And please tell me you at least asked her about it before launching into mister fix-it mode.”

  I sigh. “I screwed up, okay? In at least a dozen ways before breakfast. Happy?”

  She smiles. “A little. Want me to help find her?”

  Before I can answer, a shrill scream shreds the silence. It bounces off the canyon walls, and I spin around, scrambling to figure out where it’s coming f
rom.

  Roughneck doesn’t need direction. With a fierce yank, he pulls the leash out of Lana’s hand and takes off running.

  “No!” Lana sprints after him, calling his name.

  But that scream ignited his rocket blasters, and the dog zooms off toward the trees. He’s growling and flashing his teeth and looking like a damn wild animal, so I take off after him as another shriek pierces the air.

  Vanessa. I’d know that scream anywhere.

  “Oh, God.” I sprint past my sister, following the dog toward the waterpark. No, not the waterpark. Roughneck darts left, aiming for the bumper cars. What the hell?

  Female voices are shouting up ahead, both familiar, both heated. But only one of them sends my heart throbbing into my throat where it wedges itself tight and painful. I follow Roughneck as he rounds the corner. His stump tail juts like an arrow, ears folded back as his paws whir in a cartoon blur.

  I’m ten feet behind him, praying I’m not too late. That Andrea isn’t as crazy as I think she is. I’m positive that was her on the video, and I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out earlier.

  I round the corner and skid to a halt at the base of the bumper car platform. “Oh my God.”

  Vanessa’s pinned down with Andrea on top of her, but not for long. She drives a fist into Andrea’s stomach, catching her off-guard. Andrea screams as Vanessa rears up like a goddamn superhero and flings Andrea off her. Before I can move, she lands another blow that knocks Andrea flat on her back.

  “Fuck you!” Vanessa yells as she presses Andrea into the ground, dress riding up her thighs as she snatches her giant purse. “You picked the wrong goddamn day to try me.”

  As I stare in disbelief, Vanessa yanks a blunt, wooden object from her bag and raises it over Andrea’s skull. Is that a pepper grinder? She’s shouting curse words I can barely make out as she wrestles something from Andrea’s hand and flings it aside muttering “fucking snakes.”