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“I dunno. What do you want to do?” I regretted the question the second the words left my mouth.
She fluffed her hair. “Obviously, my character needs a backstory. I need to commit fully in order to convince the townsfolk of Lovewell, Maine, of my identity.” She tapped her chin, a maniacal look in her eyes. “Hmm. I’m a disgraced socialite. Cast away by my blue blood family because I fell in love with the help. A chauffeur?”
“Isn’t that fromDownton Abbey?”
“Oh shit, yeah. I’ll work on it.”
“I really missed your dramatic ass,” I said, squeezing her hand on top of the table.
She blew me a kiss, but before she could respond, her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Leaning halfway across the table, she whisper-yelled, “Lumberhottie alert!”
“Liv,” I hissed. “Keep it down. The population here is smaller than that of your Pilates studio.”
Casually, I spun so I could get a look at who she was drooling over. Two men were entering the diner, one of which was Remy Gagnon.
I gave him a small wave. “That lumberjack is married, and he’s Paz’s younger brother.”
“No. Not the skinny one. The thick plank of hardwood.”
“That’s Remy’s brother-in-law, Dylan,” I said. “I don’t know him, but he’s a teacher.”
She waved a French fry wildly. “Oh shit. I am hot for that teacher.”
I stepped on her foot under the table. “Tone it down. I think he has a girlfriend.”
“Hope it’s not serious. Should I go say hello?” She was tilting her head so she didn’t lose sight of him.
“No. Eat your grilled cheese.”
“I’m just saying. I drove all the way up here to see you, but you’re distracted by the lumbersuit. Maybe I need a distraction too.” She craned her neck, and I swear she licked her lips.
I threw a fry at her. “I’m not distracted.”
“Your pupils dilate every time I mention him. He’s clearly dickmatized you. No doubt it’s an excellent dick. A big, strong axe.”
“Please stop.”
“I’m only getting started. The muscles, the beard, the weirdly sterile house. I sense a freak with control issues. Probably dominant but likes to be submissive sometimes too. I bet he goes down on you all the time.”
My face heated. Jesus. Liv could crack me open and read me like a damn book.
She raised one eyebrow and huffed out a smug laugh. “He fuck you outside yet?”
“No,” I said, inspecting my sandwich.
“Liar.”
“Does in a barn count?” I grumbled.
“Bingo. Knew it.” She pounded her fists on the table, garnering annoyed looks from everyone in the diner.
She took a big bite of grilled cheese and blinked at me, waiting for me to spill.
But where did I even begin? I was here to work, and the stakes were impossibly high already. And it wasn’t only sex. If it was, I could compartmentalize.
Our connection was more complex than that. I wanted a future with him. Or at the very least, a shot at a future with him.
But I lived in Portland, and there was this whole pesky murder investigation. Our chemistry was so hot and so intense, but was this even sustainable? And could I survive if we couldn’t make it work?
