All Too Well

Chapter 4

four

Ainsley

T he nerve.

The freaking balls on this guy. Not that I’m looking at that region. No, I’m smiling and imagining that I can shoot fire out of my eyeballs as I come face-to-face with Lachlan and all his ... deliciousness.

Seriously, he’s so damn hot. More than my mind let me remember. He’s tall and broad shouldered. Every part of him is better than the stupid dreams that have haunted me. His jaw tics as he waits for an answer.

I force the brightest smile I can muster. “I’m here for work.”

“And staying here ?”

“It’s the only accommodations I could find on short notice.”

I mean, there was that seedy motel. In hindsight, I should’ve done the hourly place, maybe that would’ve had hot water. Instead, I’m in this ... cabin, if you can even call it that. It’s definitely not the lodge it was described as online.

But I’m a grown woman. The Admiral used to take us camping every summer, and I can hack it. I’m strong.

Even though I want to pack my bags and run.

“Why wouldn’t you call me?”

I blink. “I was going to once I was settled in. ”

I don’t really have a choice since I’m writing an article on him, but that’s beside the point.

The real reason is that I didn’t want to face him. I’ve done my absolute best to forget him, and I’ve done a good job of it.

I’ve been able to avoid the man, my mistakes, and my absolute embarrassment of the fact that I misread the night of his mother’s funeral so freaking much.

That night is burned into my brain, and I would’ve given anything for a touch of selective amnesia.

He was sad, hurt, and drunk, but I kissed him. I lifted up on my toes, thinking he really wanted me. I have never felt that level of mortification.

Lachlan runs his hands through his thick brown hair. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, but, like I said, I was going to call or come by later. I just needed to unpack.”

Which honestly wasn’t even my thought, because I cannot stay here. However, now I sort of need to do it, because I don’t have another option.

“Ainsley . . . we should talk.”

“Yes, we definitely should. I’m not ready for an interview yet, but I’d love to set up a time we can meet.”

At that he jerks his head back. “Interview?”

“Yes, I’m here for you.” Yeah, that doesn’t sound stupid at all. Way to go, Ainsley. I clear my throat. “I mean that I’m here for my paper.”

“I’m not following,” Lachlan says slowly.

I’m just screwing this up at every turn. “I work for a small press out of New York, and I’m here because we’d love to do a piece about you.”

“No.”

That went just about the way I expected, but it still stings. Lachlan always hated attention, which was ironic since he was so amazing at football. He spent many of his high school days talking to scouts, the school newspaper, and the local town jotter, and he loathed it .

Well, now I’m here to change the narrative. I’m going to make this a better experience so I can stop writing about hats and makeup.

“Listen, I know there’s some resistance to this, but it’ll be painless. I can just follow you around, take notes—you won’t even know I’m here.”

He huffs at that. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. We haven’t seen each other or talked in four years, and you just want to show up and follow me around?”

I don’t want any of this. I would’ve been perfectly fine carrying on with my life for the next four years pretending Lachlan West was a figment of my imagination. However, thanks to my asshole coworkers, I can’t do that.

“I mean, I think it’s the best plan.”

“We should talk about that night,” he suggests again, and I lift my hand.

“That’s all in the past, Lach. I’m really fine. I’m just here to work.”

I just dream about it daily.

Hurt flashes in his eyes, and God, this stupid girl in me wants to soothe it. To be the girl he used to come to when he was sad. “Ainsley, you’ve avoided me for years. I miss ... I want to talk and ... Jesus, why is this so hard with you? You were my friend too. I tried to talk to you and you ghosted me.”

He missed me?

No. Do not go there.

Lachlan West is that guy who I was never allowed to like but did anyway, and I am way too weak when it comes to him.

When I started high school, I thought maybe, just maybe, he would stop seeing me as Caspian’s sister. The annoying girl who followed the two of them around like a rabbit on a string. I wanted that so damn much, but it didn’t happen.

Instead, I became a new kind of annoying. The one who was caught staring at him just a little too long. The girl who wanted to comfort him when his mom died and found him alone in the garden, holding a bottle of whiskey, and he kissed me—no, no, I kissed him.

I must keep the facts straight.

Also, I don’t want to talk about that night. I want him to pull me into his arms, look into my eyes, and tell me it’s always been me for him. That he loves me and the last four years have been the worst of his life.

However, we’re not living in a fantasy world.

“Can we just not talk about it? Please? After we finish with this article, we can hash it all out.” Or I’ll just get in my car and disappear again.

It’s for the best.

He leans against the doorjamb and sighs. “Caspian mentioned you were a journalist, but I never thought you’d be standing here because of work.”

You and me both.

However, the Fates are not on my side.

“I am. I love it there and I have a great job.”

Lachlan grins. “Good, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

“So, you’re writing an article on me?”

Ugh. I guess this is as good of a time as any. “I am, and I’d like to talk to you regarding the piece.”

“What exactly is this article about? Because the fire was weeks ago, and I promise, there’s nothing new there.”

I smile. “I saw that. You were amazing to run in there and get her.”

“It’s my job. I could never live with myself, knowing I didn’t do everything I could to save that child. I just ... I saw Rose in that window, and ...”

I step closer on instinct and then force myself to stop. Touching him is an absolute no go. I will not be that stupid again. No way.

“You saved her, though.”

His brown eyes meet mine. “I did, but there were twenty other firefighters there who would’ve done the same. I didn’t do anything special.”

“I disagree, as do most of the public. Which is what brings me here. I don’t want to write about the fire. I want to write about you. Your life. What made you come here, to Ember Falls. The man behind the heroic savior.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know who I am.”

I bristle. “Not really. We’ve changed a lot. Like, I didn’t know you were still playing sports.”

When I asked my temporary landlord about Lachlan, he sort of laughed and mentioned that he and his friends are in a league of some sort. If he’s still playing sports, this will be great. I can talk about the rise of the great quarterback and how he’s still involved in the game.

I can show the human side of sports.

Not that I know a damn thing about that side, but this is what good journalists do—they lie.

His eyes narrow and he pushes off the door. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

I fight back a laugh and keep my face passive. “Really? Because my new friend, Harold Brickman, said you play.”

And you’re apparently the team captain.

“Nope. I’m not on any sports teams.”

I nod. “Okay, I’m sure someone around here knows something.”

Lachlan steps back, his lips in a tight line. “Whatever. I need access into the cabin so I can check on things.”

I lean against the door. “No, thank you. I’m completely fine here. The owner walked me through things. I saw a fire extinguisher and all is well.”

“I really insist.”

“I really deny your insistence. How about we make a deal? I’ll let you in and you let me interview you.”

“No.”

I shrug. “Then, I’m sorry, Chief West, now is not a good time for your fire inspection.”

He huffs. “Fine. I’ll have someone come by in a day or two. Do either of those days work?”

“Any time after today would be perfect. I can’t wait to meet some of your firemen.”

“I’ll be here—not them.”

“Even better.”

He starts to walk away, muttering under his breath, and I realize I might have overplayed my hand a bit. This story doesn’t exist if I can’t get him to participate in this interview, so I have to try to get things back to the way they used to be, even if they can never really be the same. “Lach?”

“Yeah?”

“It was good to see you,” I say, my voice even and calm. “I hope Rose is good?”

The last time I saw her she was just two years old, but I think about her all the time, and my brother shows me photos.

He smiles at the mention of his daughter. “She’s great. She’s in school now and is discovering all the fun things that go with that.”

It’s hard to picture what she must be like now. She was just learning how to talk and was seriously the cutest kid, who loved everyone.

“So she’s dealing with the horrors of boys?” I ask with a grin.

“Ironically, yes. A boy is stealing her crayons.”

“And you haven’t beat him up yet? Wow. You really have matured.”

He laughs. “I did tell her to punch him and offered to do it if she wasn’t up for it.”

Of course he did. “Hopefully she can punch better than you could.”

His head jerks back. “I punched just fine, thank you very much.”

“Not what I remember. You tried to beat up that one kid in middle school, and he totally kicked your ass,” I remind him.

I’m not sure it really went that way, but it’s still fun to be the annoying girl I’ve always been to him .

“If I remember, he had to go to the hospital because I broke his nose,” Lachlan counters.

I shrug, not caring about the details. “Maybe have Caspian do the instructing either way. He packs a really mean right hook.”

My brother was the best at landing a punch. One too many times I got in the middle of the two of them fighting, and one time I took the end of the punch. I thought my dad was going to murder my brother for hitting me, which was totally an accident. I did my best to hide it, but it was impossible when the black eye came. Caspian was beside himself, and the Admiral thought the punishment of him having to look at the bruise was enough since he would practically break down and cry each time he saw it.

“Does your brother know you’re here and staying in this shithole?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m a grown-ass woman who doesn’t need to tell my brother where I’m going.”

“So that’s a no. I doubt he’ll be happy when he finds out.”

“I doubt I care.”

That sounded so much better in my head.

“Some things never change, Berry. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He turns and leaves, and I stand here, seething at the nickname that I never wanted to hear again. I am not a stupid strawberry.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

After the worst night’s sleep ever, I’m ready to tackle my story.

I wanted to go straight to the firehouse, but instead I go to the cute little coffee shop, Prose & Perk, in the center of town. While the ad for the lodge said it had a coffee maker, it is probably from 1997, and I’d rather drink sludge, which is what I’m sure that would be anyway.

I park the car and see a text from Caroline.

Caroline

So, did you talk to him yet?

I sure did.

Caroline

And?

And he’s still hot and I love him.

He’s not all that interested in the article, buuuuuut ... I found out he’s still playing sports!

Caroline

Really? That’s great! You have the perfect angle then.

Right! I’m totally going to get to write what I want after this. I’ll wear him down so I can get the interview, but this is perfect.

Caroline

I’m excited for you. You got this.

Thanks! I’m heading in for coffee now and then to get started on this story so I can get home.

Caroline

Happy writing .

The Main Street area of Ember Falls is picturesque, and I found a spot right outside the coffee shop. The street is lined with old brick buildings with storefront windows and what look like apartments above them. A few stores have more ornate facades to mirror the older look of a more Victorian-style home. There’s a pizza place, a printing store, a small handbag boutique, and ... coffee.

The bell above the door chimes, and I’m taken back in time as soon as I enter.

The tables are all mismatched with random chairs, and the walls are decorated in pages from thousands of books, all layering over each other to create a beautiful wallpaper. At a long counter in the back, it’s nothing but shelves of books with bent spines and old leather that create the most comforting scent.

Coffee, books, and happiness.

“Good morning!” a girl calls out from the back.

“Good morning. Where do I go to place an order?” I ask, trying to move toward where I think she is.

She lifts up part of the counter and peeks out. “Sorry, we’re a bit hidden back here. Oh, you’re new in town!”

I smile. “I am. This place is amazing. I’m so glad I stopped to get some coffee.”

“We have plenty of that here. I’m Hazel. It’s nice to meet you, and welcome to Prose & Perk.”

I get closer and extend my hand. “I’m Ainsley, and it’s great to meet you too. Seriously, this place is a booklover’s dream.”

Hazel glances around with a dreamy look on her face. “It is. It’s my happy place.”

“Do you own it?”

She nods. “I bought it a year ago. It used to be a bait and tackle shop, but I thought the town needed some sophistication.”

“Bait and tackle, huh?” I try not to think too hard about the dead-fish smell that once was emanating here instead of old books and coffee.

Hazel grins. “Trying to imagine the before?”

“More like trying not to,” I admit.

She laughs and jerks her head toward the back of the building. “Come on, I make a mean cappuccino and I’m pretty sure that’s your drink of choice, right?”

“Good guess.”

“It’s the shoes,” she says with a giggle.

I follow her, leaning against the counter where there are two machines, a grinder, and a row of syrups that would make any flavored-coffee lover squeal. As Hazel starts on the coffee, I continue trying to look at everything.

“So where are you from?”

“New York City.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

I smile and peruse the store. “I am.”

Over in the corner is a cute little alcove that seems sort of shielded from the store. It has a partition, but it blends so well it took me a minute to really see it.

She must notice where my gaze has landed, because she speaks. “That’s the writer’s nook.”

“It’s adorably hidden.”

Hazel smiles. “I always wanted to publish a book, but ... I can’t write for shit. I imagined a place that I’d want to try in. I hate being alone, so it has to be a public space, but libraries sometimes feel stuffy—at least, ours here is a joke. I tried to put everything a writer could want in there, privacy if they want it, people watching if they need it, and just a comfy place to create.”

“Do you take reservations?” I ask. It seems like the absolute perfect place for me to work.

“Are you a writer?”

“Journalist, not novels, although I’ve thought about it.”

Hazel hands me the cappuccino. “A journalist in Ember Falls? You must be here about our hero fire chief.”

“Yes and no. I am here for Lachlan, but it’s not about the fire. We just haven’t come to an agreement on how this is going to happen yet.”

“Do you know him?”

I smile. “I do. We’re old friends. We grew up together in Virginia Beach when our dads were in the navy.”

“Well, color me intrigued.”

I glance around the room, admiring everything about this place. “I’m more interested in your shop.”

“You’re welcome to look around.”

“Thank you.”

“So, how amazing is it to be a journalist?”

“It’s not all that glamorous. Especially when your boss makes you write about hats and colors for the last six months, but this article is my big break, or at least I’m going to make it be one.”

“You said you’re writing about Lachlan but not the fire?”

I nod. “Yes, about his life and how he’s still involved in sports. I’m hoping to find out more regarding the team he’s with now.”

Hazel’s brows shoot up. “Wait, you’re writing about the team he plays on now?”

“I am! I’m really excited to write about all the sports.” I take a sip of the best coffee I’ve ever had. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”

“I added a splash of brown sugar at the end. It brings a nice little kick.”

It’s heavenly. Seriously, I’m going to be here as much as I can. “This is absolutely my favorite coffee place I’ve ever been. I’m definitely going to put this in the article.”

Her eyes brighten and she perks up. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Sports and coffee sound like a great mix.”

“Well, you’re welcome to spend as much time here as you want. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy writing about his Ultimate Frisbee league.”

She has got to be kidding. “Ultimate what ?”

Hazel giggles. “Yeah, it’s as stupid as it sounds, but they’re very competitive. It gets pretty crazy around their tournaments.”

“Wait,” I say, putting my hand up. “You mean Lachlan West is playing on an Ultimate Frisbee team? The Heisman Trophy–winning ball-throwing guy?”

“Same one.”

I let out a huff. “Oh. Wow. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Who else is on this team?”

“It’s mostly a college league, but they allow Lachlan’s team in since he’s really good at sports. He recruited a few other guys to play. Killian is a millionaire who owns a dating app company, Miles is the third guy, and he’s a high school principal, and the last is Everett, who is the town veterinarian—and my best friend. All three of them were draft bound too. It’s kinda crazy that they now do this for fun, but they love it.”

If I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any.

How in the ever-loving hell am I going to make this sound even remotely exciting? Ultimate Frisbee.

“Well,” I say with a laugh, and doubt starts to creep in. “Okay then. I guess I have a lot to learn.”

This is ... terrible. I’m never going to be able to make this sound cool or interesting. It’s a bunch of old guys who play against college kids.

I’m doomed.

My big break just became a sinking ship of misery.

“You’re totally rethinking making the story about the fire, aren’t you?” Hazel asks and then leans back.

“Kind of,” I admit, my voice going higher at the end. “They want to know where he is now, so I guess this is just what it is. I’ll find a way to make it sound more ... stimulating.”

“Then I wish you luck, and you’re welcome to my writer’s nook anytime.”

“Thank you, I’ll be back for more of this.” I lift the cup.

I pay and then head out to start my investigation to learn more about this league and figure out how to get Lachlan to agree to this story, if there even is one.

“This is a disaster!” I tell Caroline on the phone. “An Ultimate Frisbee league?”

She laughs once. “I mean, too bad it wasn’t old-man baseball. You could at least work with that.”

I did a quick Google search on this league, and it’s worse than I thought. After I decided there was no way I could make a story out of that, I looked at the guys in the league. Now, there might be something, but still, it’s going to be a damn stretch.

I groan and bang my hand on the steering wheel. “Seriously! Baseball, football, hockey, even that other game you made me sit through would be better.”

“Tennis?” she asks as though I’m an idiot.

“Yes. Tennis. That was horrible, but at least it was a real sport. Ugh! I’m screwed!”

“You’re not screwed. You just need to find an angle that makes it sound a little less ridiculous.”

Like that’s going to happen. “Where exactly is the less part? So far I have four guys who were literally draft bound or drafted into their prospective hobbies.”

“Sports,” Caroline corrects.

“Sports, whatever, and instead of going to the big leagues.”

“Professional teams,” she cuts in again.

“Right. Those. They’re here playing Frisbee. Did you even know that was a thing?”

Caroline snorts. “Nope. So what are you going to do?”

I stare out the windshield, hoping for the answer to magically appear, but it doesn’t. “I guess I have to call Mr. Krispen and tell him this is a nonstory. That Lachlan is just a former trophy winner who saved a kid and lives in a small town. There’s nothing exciting here.”

I hear something slam loudly, causing me to jump. “You will not do that, damn it.”

“I won’t?”

“No! You are Ainsley freaking MacKinley! You are going to write this article and you are going to make it your bitch.”

I sit back, pursing my lips. “I am?”

Caroline’s voice is firm. “You damn sure will. Are you one of the top reporters to ever come out of NYU?”

“Maybe. I don’t know that I would say the top, but I think I was good.”

She huffs. “You’re killing me here. You know that?”

I’m totally bringing down her rather rousing speech and pep talk. I just don’t know how I’m going to do this. It feels like everything is going wrong.

“I’m sorry.”

Caroline’s friendship doesn’t waver, though. “Listen, all stories are hard. No matter what you’re writing about. Do you think if this was about that senator that it would’ve been any easier?”

I think about that for a second and release a long breath. “Well, no.”

“Exactly. So again, what are you going to do?”

That fire in my belly reignites, and I feel my confidence rising like the sun. I can do this. She’s right. I don’t give up. I’m the daughter of a freaking admiral. I’m totally going to write this article.

“I’m going to slay!” I say, letting myself feed into my inner power. “I’m going to give the best stupid sports story about a bunch of old guys, and it’s going to sweep the nation.”

“That’s it.”

“I’m going to give the people what they didn’t even know they wanted.”

“Damn right you are,” Caroline echoes. “And what are you going to tell them?”

“I have no idea.”

We both laugh and then she sighs. “You’ll figure it out, Ainsley. You’re truly gifted at writing, and you just need to dig in and get to work.”

Which is exactly what I plan to do. “I can’t wait for the world to realize what Ultimate Frisbee can do for them.”

“Me either.”

Now I just need to figure out how to do that.

I’ve decided that the less time I have to spend in Ember Falls the better. So the direct and in-your-face route is my best chance at getting Lachlan to tell me all the things about how he went from being the number-one draft pick to playing in this league of unextraordinary men.

So glad he got a full ride to school, which I did not.

No, I have a mountain of debt to pay from what the military didn’t cover.

“Can I help you, miss?” a very attractive Black man asks as he approaches.

“Hi, are you a fireman here?”

He nods. “I am. My name is Davidson.”

I smile broadly. “Nice to meet you, Davidson. I was really hoping you could help me. I’m looking for the chief. He came by my place this morning and asked some questions that I didn’t know the answer to.”

He scratches his throat. “Lachlan West?”

“Yes, he said he needed to check if something was up to code in the cabin I’m staying in?”

“Oh! You’re staying at the shit shack?”

The shit shack? Well, the nickname is pretty accurate. “If you’re talking about the lodge that was advertised, but in fact is nothing like that, then yes.”

His eyes widen and then he blinks, washing away the horror. “Right. Sorry. Did you want to come into the firehouse? He’s most likely in his office.”

“Is there any way you could ask him to come out here? I just ... I really want the chance of fewer people hearing.”

Davidson gives me a wide grin. “No problem. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Painsley.”

“Painsley. With a P ?”

“Yes.”

Poor Davidson, entering into a feud that he doesn’t even know about.

“All right, Painsley , I’ll ... let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

He heads in and I lean against his pickup, waiting for the sexiest heroic fireman of the year to grace me with his presence.

It’s really hard, because I never felt this way about Lachlan when we were kids. He was my friend, or, at least, friend by proxy. There were a lot of times when Caspian would be mean to me, tell me to do something stupid, that I would’ve absolutely gotten hurt doing, and Lachlan would come to my rescue.

He was my protective friend I couldn’t wait to see.

Until my heart decided it loved him.

Traitorous organ that resides in my chest. Always trying to ruin things for me, I swear. The boy I knew was gone, and there was just a man I thought was so damn perfect. Even though he was four years older and never gave an inkling he was interested in me, I just wanted him.

The door opens, and all six foot three inches of him strides out like a fucking movie scene. His dark-brown hair is pushed back, brown eyes focused on me as he comes toward me, and then he flashes his stupid grin and I’m back to being that dumb girl again.

Ugh.

Focus, Ainsley.

“You told him your name was Painsley?”

“Well, you seemed to enjoy reminding me of it. I wasn’t sure if you’d know who I was otherwise.”

He chuckles. “He came into my office, slightly afraid, and said there was a girl named Painsley, with a P , here to see me. That she was incredibly beautiful, and I should prepare for that, but clearly be wary with a name that literally has pain in it.”

“Aww, he thinks I’m beautiful?”

He huffs. “Of course you fixate on that.”

“Yes, the horror that a girl wants to hear she’s pretty. Whatever was I thinking latching onto a compliment?” I huff with a grin. “Did you explain who I was and why you call me that?”

Lachlan shrugs. “You’ll never know.”

“Yes, I’m sure Davidson will hold that secret close to his chest.”

He shakes his head and leans against his truck. “What can I do for you, Berry?”

Ugh. The other nickname. “Why can you not just call me by my first name? I’m Ainsley. Not Painsley. Not Berry. Ains-ley. It’s not that hard.”

“I apologize. You’re all grown up and I shouldn’t tease you. Now what can I do for you, Ainsley ?”

And here I thought I was going to have to work hard for this opening. “First, I brought you something.” I grab the coffee that I had Hazel make and hand it to him. “Here, this is a peace offering.”

Lachlan raises one brow. “Peace offering?”

“Yes, you know, a ... I’m sorry for the fact that I showed up here, wouldn’t let you in the shack thing, and that I haven’t spoken to you in the last few years.” Because we’re secretly in love with the other but can’t admit it—or at least I am. “So let’s be friends and go back to the way it was.”

“We’ve always been friends, Ainsley.”

I ignore that because for the last four years we have definitely not been friends. And I’ve felt that void in my soul.

“Okay. Call it what you want, I just wanted to be nice .”

He lifts the cup. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Also, I might have spit in it.”

“I expect nothing less.” He laughs as he puts the cup on the hood. “Why else are you here?”

Ahh, Lachlan, always thinking there’s an underlying reason someone does something nice. In this case he’s kind of right, but still. “I’d like to come by and see Rose, if that’s okay? It’s been years, but hopefully she’s at least heard my name from Caspian and ... well, I just want to see her.”

My brother is her godfather, and even though he lives four hours away in Nashville, he comes up at least once a month to spend time with them. I can at least hope he’s talked about me.

“Of course you can, and yes, she knows who you are. I’ve shown her photos and talked about an annoying girl I know who used to torture me.”

Well, that was unexpected, and then I actually let what he said sink in. “Torture you?”

He laughs once. “Did you think we liked you following us around and then tattling?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I didn’t tattle.”

“Right. You just what? Informed the Admiral about what we were doing?”

“I like to think of it as a form of journalism.” It wasn’t like I enjoyed telling on them. My dad was just very firm that if you see someone doing something wrong, and you say nothing, you’re equally guilty.

I couldn’t help it that my brother and Lachlan seemed to be on the committee to commit crimes. The two of them were the reason they called us military brats.

They were brats.

I was an angel. Still am too.

Those two couldn’t walk down the street without causing a damn problem. I felt it was my responsibility, as the youngest and more responsible of the trio, to ensure that I was not guilty by association.

Lachlan snorts. “Please, you loved it when our punishment was having to do whatever you wanted if Caspian and I wanted to hang out.”

“This is true.”

That was my favorite part. Our dads were diabolical. They didn’t believe in corporal punishment or anything that required them to suffer. The idea of grounding them and forcing them to be inside and complaining was absolutely not their idea of a good time.

Therefore, they were forced to do whatever I wanted.

Which meant they had to play horrible games, where Lachlan was my husband and Caspian was our son. They had to play house and board games where it was required I win. They hated it, and for me, it was wonderful.

Lachlan pushes off the truck and takes a sip of his coffee, working to hide the grin behind the rim. “Oh, that’s good. I’m wagering you met Hazel and found the coffee shop?”

“I did.” I smile. “She’s amazing and that store is ...”

“Perfect for you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Lachlan nods once. “As you should.”

I’ve always loved books. They’re magical and amazing. No matter what I read, even books that aren’t necessarily my genre of choice, books have some part of the author’s soul in there. You just have to find it.

When I write an article, there’s something about putting my own words into a story. There’s an angle or a way that I work at picking the perfect descriptors to show what I’m trying to say. It’s why some of my articles take me weeks to perfect.

And I don’t even like what I’m working on most of the time, but it’s my name under that title, and I’ll never take that for granted.

Which is why I need Lachlan to be pliable and open to me writing this piece.

“Since you are in a giving mood, how about dinner one night this week?”

“Dinner?” he asks with a bit of hesitancy.

“Yeah, just ... whatever night you’re free. It’s been forever, I don’t know anyone in town, and I’ll be here for at least two weeks. Monday? Wednesday? Thursday?” I ask, hoping he’ll give away what day his practice or a game might be.

“I’m sure we can find a day.”

“Are you free any of those?”

His eyes narrow. “I’ve known you pretty much our whole lives, you forget. I’m well aware of your attempts to get information.”

I huff and lean against his truck. “I don’t need to attempt a damn thing. I can get information a hundred different ways.”

“I have no doubt you’ve honed your snooping skills.”

Please, I’ve perfected them. He just throws me off balance a little, which is why I seem to be not as great at this moment.

“I’m going to pretend you mean that to be a compliment.”

“Pretend away. ”

“So, dinner?” I bring the convo back around to what I want anyway.

Lachlan drains the coffee and smirks. “I’ll let you know about that. In the meantime, you can come by tomorrow if you want to see Rose, maybe around four? Do you still have the same number?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, I’ll text you my address.”

“Sounds great.”

He grins. “It’s eating you up, this trying to be subtle and not outright asking me whatever scheme you have cooking, isn’t it?”

Maybe, but I’ll never admit it. I give him a one-shoulder shrug and grab the coffee cup from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow around four, and we can talk about the article.”

Then I get in my car and leave him standing there, reveling in the victory that he’s stunned this time.