Page 13 of The Mood Board

I didn’t know why Liam wasn’t similarly affected—the letter was about him, not me. It cast his entire company and himself in a terrible, suspect light and came with uncertainty about the future. And yet, here he was, happily getting on with life.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, really. That was one of the things I admired so much about him—his ability to find the bright spot in every situation. And if he couldn’t, he could put the problem where it belonged until he could find a way to deal with it. It was a combination that made him nearly unstoppable.

And I had wished so many times to have that ability. In some cases, I felt he was beginning to rub off on me, or I was at least beginning to look at situations from his perspective. But all of this was too much for my budding skills, no matter how much I could have desperately used it.

“I’m just trying to hold out until the honeymoon,” I sighed and melted into him. His arms wrapped around me, and I let my eyes close for a moment, reveling in his warmth and the scent of his soap and deodorant—all things that helped to calm and ground my ever-spinning mind.

“That’s not exactly a healthy way to look at it.” Liam’s voice echoed in his chest against my cheek. “It’s not too late for that trip to the coast. I haven’t canceled anything yet.”

We had decided together that as wonderful as a weekend getaway would be, this wasn’t the right time. We didn’t know who was behind the letter or what else they would try, and it was better to be here to handle any potential issues or even fallout.

The front door opened, and I looked at the clock on the microwave—right on time, as usual.

“Anyone home?” Tom called out, the only person who would walk into the house without knocking or ringing the bell first. But why would he? He and Liam had been friends since they were in grade school—they were practically brothers.

“Right, because they would have invited us to dinner and left.” Bianca’s sarcastic comment traveled the hall to us as their footsteps grew closer. Tom laughed as they came into the kitchen, and Bianca was grinning.

“Hey,” she said, hugging me.

“Hiya, Bailey. Janelle not here yet?” Tom asked as he gave me a warm side hug that was cooled slightly by the question.

“Not yet, but she’s new to the area. I don’t know where she lives—she might have gotten lost,” Liam said, taking plates from an overhead cabinet.

“Isn’t that what GPS is for?” I grumbled. I’d said it under my breath, but Liam looked at me as he added silverware to his pile bound for the table. I looked away, my cheeks heating at the knowledge he had heard me. Thankfully, he didn’t press me, or maybe he hadn’t heard what I had said because he nodded for Tom to help him carry everything into the dining room.

“You okay?” Bianca asked, stealing a slice of fig garnishing the salad and popping it into her mouth.

“I’m fine.” What exactly was going on with my face that everyone had to ask me that question? Was my internal turmoil that apparent to everyone?

Or maybe, from her raised eyebrow, she had heard my muttered comment as Liam had. To avoid any more scrutiny, I picked up the breadbasket with the loaf in it and headed toward the dining room. That was my intent, anyway. My feet stopped after only a few footsteps, and I turned back to Bianca.

“Has Tom been talking about Janelle a lot?” I asked.

The other woman rolled her eyes and stuck another fig in her mouth before picking up the salad bowl to follow me. “The almighty Janelle? I can’t stop hearing about her.”

Bianca’s response eased the tight ball my stomach was becoming as we waited for the guest of honor.

“But, then again, she is supposed to be amazing. And the better the company does, the better Hope’s House does.”

I couldn’t help my small smile—that would be Bianca’s take on it. I had never met anyone so entirely dedicated to her job and to helping the people it reached outside of Liam.

“Well, from what I understand, she isn’t a nerd at all,” Bianca added, scooping up the bowl of salad. “So she won’t be coming over to hang out and play video games any time soon.”

“Oh, yeah?” I raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly bad that the information made me more cheerful.

“I mean, can you imagine Tom falling for someone who thinks video games are stupid?” She picked up the serving spoons for the salad and added them to the bowl.

“She thinks they’re stupid?” I asked, surprised the woman had been that blunt.

“I guess she didn’t use those exact words.” Bianca walked her statement back slightly. “But when Tom mentioned inviting her over for game night, she ‘politely refused,’ as he put it.”

There was a wicked sparkle in her eyes, and I laughed as she followed me out of the kitchen, happy that I might have an ally to back me up.

The doorbell rang, and Liam left the dining room to answer it just as we entered. I heard his greeting next, and then that voice, the smoky alto, reply before he led Janelle back into the room.

I had been feeling better, but I felt my confidence splutter again at the sight of her. Janelle looked just as good in jeans and a crisp button-down as in a suit and heels, her glorious hair falling around her shoulders and down her back.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, holding out a covered Dutch oven. “I didn’t get this into the oven early enough, so it took a little longer to bake.”