TEN
WATCHING BAER WALK out his father’s place was an experience she didn’t want to repeat. He’d stayed as long as he could, eating with them, remaining intent as the twins recounted details of their school day. With boastful exuberance, each vied to outdo the other. Much as they might tease, those youngsters idolized their big brother.
Eventually the time had come for him to stand up and bid them farewell. She’d been in the kitchen, organizing the twins at the sink when he came over to lay a hand on her hip and kiss the corner of her mouth.
With his eyes on hers, blazing their usual intensity, he’d asked if she was okay. What was she supposed to say to that? Her heart and her mind had two different reactions. Regardless, she’d nodded. The man had to do his job, whatever the cost. Why should she make it more difficult for him?
So he’d walked out, and she’d stayed to help Abel get the boys to bed.
What was she doing playing house with…? She’d done it dozens of times. Hundreds. Visiting foundation kids and—oh, who was she kidding? This was completely different.
Why, a whole day later, was she still obsessing? There she was at her building’s entrance, chatting with Narmer about his daughter, and still Baer was on her mind. More specifically, what he might’ve done for his client.
Get over it. This was a new night. If she wanted to enjoy it, the previous one had to be consigned to history.
When the Squires limo pulled up, she bid Narmer goodbye and dashed to the curb.
“Good evening, Kessler,” she said to the driver waiting by the open back door.
“Evening, Freya, how are you?”
“Well,” she said. “Thank you. And you?”
“Think I’m coming down with something.”
His smile suggested that may have been a tease, she went with it anyway.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, tilting her head. “Maybe this will cheer you up.”
Holding up a wooden box by its rope handle, she presented it to him.
“What is it?”
“Scotch,” she said. “You’ve been so gracious; this is my thank you.”
Leaving him to absorb the gratuity, she slid into the backseat.
It was insane to be disappointed by the waiting stranger. Attractive, smiling like a person happy to see her, the guy didn’t know he couldn’t compete.
“Miss Dere, I presume?” he asked, showing his palm. “I’m Donoghue.”
She shook his hand. “Pleasure.”
“Oh, that’s all mine.” He reached behind himself as the car got moving. “I brought you a gift.”
Interesting. “A gift?” she asked, excited by the prospect. Apparently, performing a good deed earned one in return. If she didn’t give Donaghue the chance to impress her, he wouldn’t get a fair shake. And if nothing else, fair was the most common of courtesies. “Why thank you, I…”
When he turned back, the object in his hand shut her up in an instant. It was a gut punch. Not his fault, just one of those things. And it was stupid, childish. Yet there was a symmetry to that. The trauma came from her past, way deep down in her past, it was only logical her emotion should react in the same immature way.
“Do you like it?”
Did she like it? A single white rose. He could’ve brought a machete and it wouldn’t have cut her deeper. No one who knew her would bring a rose, let alone a white one. But there it was, in his fingertips between them.
“I…”
What could she say that wouldn’t offend or upset him? The alternative was…? Feigning delight was beyond her. Not that she’d ever get giddy over a flower.
Stop it, don’t be rude. He hadn’t done it out of malice. It was a nice gesture. Supposed to be a nice gesture.
“Are you okay?” he asked, probably sensing her hesitation.
Probably? It had been half a minute since he’d produced the thing and she was still just staring at it.
“Yes, I… I’m just allergic… that’s all.”
Okay, good deflection. Now he wouldn’t expect her to take possession of it. God, she couldn’t even think the noun.
“Oh,” he said, his smile dropping.
Just at that, the car came to a stop and the door opened. Kessler didn’t open it, someone else did.
Baer.
Climbing in, he sat in the opposite seat, reaching over to do some kind of handshake thing with Donoghue. She smiled. The twins would love to have a secret handshake with their big brother.
Donoghue said nothing, neither did she.
For a block, Baer glanced back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”
A polite smile was her only response. It wasn’t like she could tell him why the rose unsettled her with Donoghue sitting right there.
“Uh…” Donoghue shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I… have you met? Freya, this is Baer, Baer—”
“Yeah, we’ve fucking met. What’s going on?”
Anger? Why? His expression gave it away. On getting in, he’d been loose, now he was scowling at Donoghue.
“Calm,” she whispered.
His gaze snapped to her. “If he made a fucking move on you—”
“Calm,” she said, leaning forward to take his hand on his thigh. “Would you calm down?”
“You can’t have been alone for more than five minutes. It was two blocks. I should’ve just walked over and—”
“Baer—”
“She’s allergic to the flower,” Donoghue said, raising a hand to let it flop.
After fixating on it for a few seconds, Baer looked from her to Donoghue. “No, she’s not,” he said, releasing her hand as he leaned across to roll down the side window. Picking up the flower, he tossed it out, then closed it up. “She’s too polite to tell you the real reason it upset her.”
“No, I…” she started. Roles now reversed, Donoghue was the scowler, while Baer was more relaxed. “You didn’t have to be rude about it.”
Baer straightened his cuffs, ignoring her assertion. “Was it on the prep sheet?” he asked. “What was under the flowers section?”
Donoghue lost his irritation in the face of sheer surprise. “I… nothing, it said nothing,” he said, lowering his voice to a hiss. “What the hell you doing talking prep sheets in front of a client?”
“It’s okay.” She showed a palm to each of the men. “Let’s start over… Have you two worked together before?”
The question amused Baer so much his smile broadened fast. “We haven’t worked the same woman at the same time, if that’s your question.”
Threesomes? He was talking threesomes!
Her shock boosted his smile.
Donoghue’s fingertips touched her knee and ascended to gather the hem of her dress. “That wasn’t on her prep sheet either.”
Baer’s rage returned fast. “Don’t do that.”
“She likes forward,” Donoghue said, his touch sliding higher.
“I don’t,” Baer growled. “Move your hand.”
“Are you kidding?” Donoghue asked.
Plucking up his hand, she put it on his thigh and gave it a pat. “Maybe it would be best to just…” Pinning a glare on Baer, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what was wrong. “What is with you?”
“Wait, I thought she was a new client,” Donoghue said. “You seen her off the books? You moonlighting?”
“No.” She landed a broad smile on Donoghue. “We met at Squires. That’s all. Just Squires.”
“Clients pick us, buddy,” Donoghue said, putting a heavy, almost clumsy arm around her. “Not the other way around. Get over it.”
Baer’s scowl didn’t flinch. Even when he shifted it to the opposite side of the car, he couldn’t keep it away. Donoghue said something about the bar they were going to, but she didn’t hear it. All she could see was Baer’s displeasure.
It would be rich if he was angry with her for being on a date with another man when he’d been sleeping with another woman last night. This was professional for him, and he was about to go on a date with her cousin. Why couldn’t he see it was professional for her too? No, okay, granted, this wasn’t her job, but she wasn’t doing it for love. Not romantic love. Not sex. Family love. This was support for Holly. Surely Baer could understand that.
Without seeing, she stared out her window. By the time the car stopped again, silence reigned.
Holly got in, giving Freya an eyeful of what was under her cousin’s scandalously short dress. Blinking, why couldn’t she unsee that view too?
Shuffling past Baer, Holly dropped into the seat on his other side. “Isn’t this a party?”
Sitting up, Freya gestured at the men in turn. “Holly, this is Donoghue, and you remember Baer.”
“Yes… I do,” Holly said, presenting Baer a hand.
And… he wasn’t paying attention, not to the woman at his side. With widening eyes, she nodded to indicate he should say hello. While he was gracious in grazing Holly’s knuckles with a kiss, his ease and charisma didn’t match that of the first day in Squires. Holly noticed too, from the awkward air to the lukewarm engagement, how could she not?
In her purse, her phone chirped a distinctive tone.
“Uh oh,” Holly said, recognizing that melody as she did.
Scrambling for her phone, Freya swiped the screen without taking it fully from her purse, diverting the call to voicemail.
“Damnit,” she whispered.
That was against their rules. Justifying the diversion wouldn’t be easy. Avoiding the call while hanging out with escorts sort of spoke for itself, but it wasn’t a reason her grandfather would accept. No, because she wouldn’t give him the chance. No way could she tell the truth. A lie? She hated lying to her grandfather. Mostly because whether he called her on it or not, he knew. Somehow, he always knew.
She couldn’t leave it at that. He’d only keep calling if she didn’t make contact. A text, she could text the reason for not taking his call. The made up reason that she still had to invent. Maybe it wouldn’t be so easy to figure her out from text than it would be with speech. Hmm, yeah, she wouldn’t hold her breath.
“Truman?” Holly asked. Casting her eyes up from the phone screen without raising her chin, she gave her cousin confirmation. “He’s going to be maaad.”
Duh, thank you. She didn’t need her cousin drawing out the word to accentuate the obvious. “Yes, okay, thanks, Hol.”
“What does he want?”
People usually phoned to tell other people what they wanted. Her relationship with her grandfather wasn’t like that.
“What does he always want?” she muttered, typing one thing, then deleting it to write something else.
“For you to go home to him.” Another glance over the phone, she understood Holly’s sigh. “There are worse places to live.”
“Says the woman who’s never had to live with him.”
“He’s not awful. He doesn’t beat you.”
“No, he’d hire someone to do it for him.” The joke wasn’t funny. She inhaled to blow out a long breath. “You’re right. He’s good to me. He’s a good man. He’d beat every other person on the planet before he’d raise a finger to me.”
“Doesn’t show his love in healthy ways though,” Holly said. “He doesn’t want you to be independent. If you go back, it will be just like before. He’ll be all in your business… And he’s more protective now… possessive… but cheating on a marriage—”
“Yeah, okay, thank you,” she said, noting how both men in the car reacted to that statement.
Donoghue was the first to interject. “Hey, if a man can’t satisfy his wife—”
“Oh, that wasn’t a judgment on you.” Holly was quick to leap in and clear up the misunderstanding. “Definitely not a judgment.”
“No, it was a judgment on me,” Freya said. “Thank you for airing my private business, Hol… My name is Freya Dere and I am a disgusting, sex-starved slut… Thank you, Holly. Thank you for helping me admit I have a problem.”
“I didn’t say that,” Holly said. “You know how I feel about cheaters, but I—”
“You really think this is the place to talk about this?” she asked, giving up on texting and tossing her phone back into her purse. “I can’t go back and change the past. What’s done is done.”
“That’s what you say. Do you think Truman will ever let it go? Do you think he’ll really ever give up on tearing Chapman apart? His wife—”
“Holly,” Freya said, begging her cousin to shut up.
“What? I’m just saying, there would be worse things in the world than to be with Truman again. He loves you.”
“So I should give up on self-respect? Give up on what I want to instead be the perfect, dutiful princess who never lives a day in her life?”
“If you’re not in love with the dude divorce him,” Donoghue said.
Holly’s laugh spurted out. Horror whipped Freya around to blink at the guy casually sitting there, draped against the door. But his opinion wasn’t the one that mattered.
Her eyes met Baer’s. “I’m not… I’m not married.”
All the things they’d done. The moments they’d shared. If she was married, she should’ve been honest. She couldn’t let him believe she lied.
“You told me that when we met, Little Skit.”