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“It’s possible. Rafael might be fleshing out a potential new business resource Stateside. He wants to visit us in Santa Barbara.”
“Is that what he spoke to you about?”
“No specifics. But yes, he and Gemma will be coming back.”
My gaze meets his. “So, you think he’s already working closely with his family?”
“My guess is yes. His playboy status works well as a cover.”
“Then why Canada? We didn’t see him do anything remotely work-like.”
“This might have really been a vacation. Or…” He shrugs. “He spent three days heli-skiing. That’s a shit ton of exercise. He didn’t seem sore or tired. Conceivable he flew into Vancouver or elsewhere. There could’ve been a meeting nearby.”
“But you went skiing?”
With a raised eyebrow, he silently asks how I could forget his injury. “Yes, we went skiing.”
And if Fisher’s theory is correct, and he’s held some business meetings out here, or furthered personal connections, he wouldn’t invite a stranger to those meetings. But there’s no harm in bringing him along on a fun day skiing through untracked powder.
My personal phone vibrates on the bedside table. I get up to check it. Fisher follows and leans against the doorjamb.
Zane:
March 15. It’s a Friday. We can leave Saturday morning and spend the weekend in Laguna. You could head back to the East Coast Sunday end of day. R u game? Pls say yes.
Me:
What’s the event again? Can you take Lauren?
“What’s wrong?” Fisher asks.
“Nothing.” I set the phone down then flip it over. I don’t really want to see Zane’s response. “Zane’s pushing for…” I cross my arms over my chest and rest my bum on the bedside table, while I try to come up with a way to explain it. “Zane and I dated in college. You know that, right?”
Fisher gives a quick jerk of his head. Of course he knows. He probably knows more about me from my college days than my dad or stepmom. Admittedly, he wasn’t always the one lurking, but if it wasn’t him, someone from his staff was and undoubtedly reported back.
“Well, we ended things with the agreement that one day, when it made sense, we might get together again.” The thing is, there’s really no attraction between Zane and me. But I can’t deny he’s pushing for something when he texts things like spending the rest of the weekend in Laguna. It’s conceivable his father, Congressman Oglethorpe, has convinced him he has a better chance of making DA if he’s not single. But that’s a load of crap. This day in age, no one expects a twenty-something to be married.
“Why did things end with you two?” Fisher draws me out of my head.
“We weren’t really together-together.” Fisher’s brows draw together. “We were more friends who…” In some ways, I used Zane as a means to an end, as my last step in my, quote-unquote, recovery. “We were kind of together, but it didn’t go anywhere. Classic case of friends being better off as friends. Which makes it odd that he keeps pushing for us to spend time together. Maybe it’s because he lives down the street from my dad once again, but he’s spending more time with him too.” I meet Fisher’s gaze. His expression is unreadable. But there’s something about him, the familiarity, perhaps, the fact he’s one of the few people who already knows so many of my secrets, including my current job, that I open up to him. “I’m sure Zane has a reason, and it’s not really to do with me. Pressure from his dad, something like that.” Fisher remains stoic. It’s a bit like talking to a wall. “Keep in mind, Zane thinks I’m working for a bank right now. He once told me his dad provided him with a list of women he thought would help his political career. I saw the list. I’m on it. Maybe he’s working his way down the list.”
“Seriously?” Fisher’s expression is no longer stoic. No, he’s looking at me like I have descended from Venus.
“Yeah.” Fisher isn’t a part of that world, but he lived on the fringes of it long enough this really shouldn’t surprise him. “Mostly women with trust funds large enough to bolster his political ambitions. Women without aspirations of influencer status, in our age bracket. The list had been well-researched, like he hired someone on staff to do the legwork.”
“I’m sure he did.” Fisher stares out the window, contemplative once again. Outside, snowflakes swirl.
“Well, I made the list. But I don’t think I’m his dad’s favorite. I just think Zane’s too lazy to pursue the others. I mean, the women listed weren’t exactly desperate. He’d need to woo.”
“Zane’s too self-centered to spend effort on someone else.”
“He’s not that bad.”
The barest hint of a skeptical smirk crosses his lips. “If you say so.” He straightens and shifts to press his back against the wall. He’s far enough away that what his dark blue irises lack in color, they gain in depth. “He always struck me as an entitled prick.”
“Zane’s a good friend.” He’s entitled, certainly, but that could be said about almost anyone from my high school.
“The guy’s a fool. He had you, and he let you go.”
