Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
“Oh my god.” Claire swats my thigh. “You have to stay. Don’t make me suffer through another year of these two alone.”
“I’m a delight,” Caine insists, but his eyes are on me. “Will you stay? If you need to go all independent, that’s fine, but I will follow you, so plan accordingly.”
“Lurking must run in the family,” Claire says lightly, then coughs, a choked sound that almost sounds like a laugh. A glance at Shane shows he’s staring across the driveway, a put-out expression on his face.
Caine grins. “I need details.”
“No, you don’t,” Shane grumbles.
“Shane stalked me,” Claire says it with the air of someone announcing a promotion. “At the Green Bean, he would wait for me to show up for coffee chats and eavesdrop on my conversations. One time, I dropped a lipstick, and he kept it.”
“I was observing.” Shane reaches for her free hand, twining their fingers. “Not stalking.”
Claire squeezes his hand and gives me a look. “Can you believe that? Shameless.”
“How did you find out?” This is a delicious tidbit of information.
“He told me.” She laughs. “We were running out of things to talk about on the trail and started playing Things I Don’t Know About You.”
“What’s that game?” Caine’s intrigued.
“You take turns telling each other things they don’t know about you,” Shane deadpans. “It might be a little complex for you.”
Caine flips him off.
I tilt my head toward Caine, but I’m talking to Claire. “He followed me to the library. And made me add him as a friend so he could track me on his phone.”
“I didn’t make you; I requested.” Caine’s protest goes ignored.
Claire eyeballs the men. “Did Delaney get the Underwood creeper gene?”
“Yes,” they say in near unison.
I snort. “I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to save yourselves.”
“Circling back,” Shane redirects. “You’re staying, yes?”
“You’re sure?” I ask Claire.
She scowls. “Don’t insult me.”
“Then I accept.” I’m sure my face is cherry tomato red. “Thank you both. I appreciate it.”
“No thanks necessary.” Shane stands with a finality that suggests the conversation is over. “Now, I need a shower.”
“So does he.” Claire tilts her head at Gregg. Shane gapes. “I’m not bathing with a dog.”
“Not a bath, but if you’re showering anyway, might as well wash him too.” Claire seems truly stupefied by Shane’s resistance, rising from the swing, never releasing Gregg’s collar. “Come on, I’ll help.”
“You may join me, but you aren’t bringing Gregg. There’s no way we’ll all fit,” Shane grumbles, but follows her. “There’s going to be fur everywhere.”
“What if I let you break out that three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash deal you love?” I can’t quite make out what Shane says in response, but the pitch of his voice suggests he’s open to negotiation.
“How you doing?” Caine migrates from railing to swing, settling beside me. “Proud of you for actually agreeing to stay.” He smirks. “Thought I was going to have to convince you with my co—”
“They could hear,” I hiss, clamping a hand over his mouth, glaring at him when he licks my palm.
“They don’t care.” Caine hooks an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. “And honestly, after we rescued that cock ring, they owe us.”
I snort.
“But seriously,” he continues. “Thank you. I know it’s hard for you to accept help, but when people care about you, they want to.”
Nodding, I nestle closer to him. “No more crazy games now.”
“There will be games,” Caine’s certain. “When those two hit the woods, I’ll hold you down and make you scream.”
“Promise?”
“Swear.”
We rock as the sun starts to set. I’m yawning a yawn that feels like I may swallow my head, when Caine’s and my phones chime in near unison.
“Group text?” Caine doesn’t make a move for his, instead watching me swipe open mine. The Google Alert makes me jerk upright. We both have one set for Nicholas Ammon.
“Holy shit.” I read the title of the Blue Bonnet Sentinel article aloud. “ ‘Disgraced televangelist vanishes on spiritual retreat in Sedona.’ ”
“Deserts are big. Easy to get lost.” Caine’s thoughtful. “Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”
“Realistically, what do you think the odds are of Lauren ever thinking about him or us again?”
“Low.”
I side-eye him, trying to figure out if he means it or is just trying to make me feel better.
While solving the Nicholas problem, Caine learned that Lauren was not a fitness influencer; Lauren was the private investigator Nicholas had hired to find me and provide him with updates.
Uncertain if we would need to dig a second hole in the woods, I confronted Lauren while we were on a hike.
I told her that Nicholas had ratted her out when he came to town to try to “win me back.” Then I brought up what a questionable ethical area she was working in by making “friends” with people she was collecting information on.
A little bit of acting wounded by her betrayal and devastated that we weren’t real friends, and she was extremely embarrassed and apologetic.
Two days later, I received another apology via text, and I haven’t heard from her since.
“She won’t.” Caine’s confidence makes me feel a little bit better. “I saw her face when you talked about ethics and emotional distress. She realized she’d fucked up.”
“I still can’t believe you stalked us on the hike.” I prod him with my elbow.
He’s pure arrogance, murmuring in my ear, “Haunted. And I still can’t believe how wet it made you.”
Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I look everywhere but at him. “You’re misremembering.”
He isn’t.
Caine
Six Weeks Later