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William woke early and disentangled himself from Lucy. She didn’t wake when he rose from the bed and left to grab video and talk up the staff. So far their hidden cameras in the cabin showed nothing.
They were close, though. He could feel it. Two more days to snoop around, ask questions, and tie up the story. Two more days. He could keep his distance from Lucy that long. Hell, he’d just give her the space she’d been pursuing herself. When the story was finished, he’d let her continue on her path of avoiding him. Encourage it even.
A few hours and a hike to and from the lodge later, he returned with an entire Thermos of dark roast. Lucy was up, the bed made. In snug fitting jeans and a Twin Lakes T-shirt, she dried her wet hair with a towel. Her bag lay open on the bed, and she rummaged through it with her other hand.
His gaze drifted to her ass-cupping jeans.
“Hey. You brought me coffee?” she asked, more than a little shock in her voice.
“Cream and sugar, too.” He set the coffee on the table and snagged two enamel camp-style mugs from the counter.
“Will?” She settled at the table.
“Yes?”
“Thanks.” She raised her mug in a semi-salute before sipping.
She toyed with the handle. Neither of them said anything more. Best to address the awkwardness head on.
He moved the chair next to her and sat. “What happened yesterday at the barn?—”
She held a hand up in the universal sign for him to stop, not up for discussion. “Nothing happened.”
He pressed his lips together. He certainly didn’t expect his heart to shrink at the declaration. “You want to play it this way?”
“It’s not a game.” She gripped her cup between her hands.
“Fine. Nothing happened,” he clipped. Except, everything had happened.
“What’s on the agenda today?”
“Didn’t get that far. Figured you’d need caffeine before any communication, so I got on that.”
“I’m up for whatever. What can we do at the lodge to give the staff lots of time to come in and out?” She twirled a piece of hair with her finger.
He couldn’t seem to jerk his gaze from that strand of hair. Like some trick of the mind, he just stared at it. “I’m glad you asked. Today is group therapy for the honeymooners.”
Her jaw slipped open. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. It’s part of the whole honeymoon retreat experience.” He held his mug wide in mock enthusiasm. Therapy sounded about as much fun as ripping out his own toenails with a salad fork.
She gave him a look that would wither a lesser man’s balls.
He ignored it. Not like he was particularly looking forward to dodging questions in a group setting, but if they didn’t show up it might raise questions. The group sessions were part of the entire Twin Lakes honeymoon experience. “It won’t be that bad. We’ll tell them we’re private people.”
“You think that’s going to work?”
He didn’t have a lot of experience with therapists, but he had a feeling there was no way in hell his plan was going to work. “Nope.”
“We should get our stories straight then. I told Sarah you’re a landscaper and I’m your receptionist.” She kept her eyes on her coffee.
Landscaper? He couldn’t keep a potted plant alive. He had, however, once managed to keep a cactus from decomposing for about six months. “You told her I’m a landscaper?”
“You know, lawn installation and stuff.” She shrugged. The neck of her T-shirt slipped down her shoulder the barest of centimeters. Still, it was enough to make his pulse beat louder in his ears.
“Luce, I know what a landscaper does. Why on earth wouldn’t you tell her I’m a businessman?”
She bit at her bottom lip, her teeth dipping into the flesh there. “I was working on the fly. We really should’ve discussed this before we got here.”
