Page 29 of Speak of the Devil

“Want to sit outside or?—?”

I wouldn’t mind staring at the view while I can. “We can go outside.”

He opens a massive sliding glass door and leaves it, so a breeze reaches me before I even step out. The pool is modern in design but isn’t huge. Perfect for a family or couple, or a single guy in his case, to cool off. I wonder how often he uses it.

Making myself at home on a lounge chair with a puffy black-and-white cushion, I lie back, close my eyes, and soak in the sunrays. “I’d spend all my time out here if I had this to come home to.”

“What would you do?”

“Read. Catch up on social media. Nap.” I don’t know why I make that sound like I’m breaking a rule, but a nap sounds indulgent to me most days.

“I don’t use it as much as I should. I come out more often at night and watch the lights as I hit my sticks against the cushion.” I watch him settle at the table nearby. He picks the far chair and faces me.

“You practice on your days off? Seems like you’d be a pro by now.” Just a little teasing before we delve deeper.

By the amusement on his face, he gets me. “Probably not considered practicing at this stage in my career, but I still hit when I’m not performing.” As if he’s in on a joke I’m not, his chuckle remains under his breath. “Believe it or not, it relaxes me.”

“I can believe it. Gardening relaxes me. It’s work, but something peaceful can be found in its simplicity.”

“And a reward in the results.” It’s strange how different we are but can still manage to find something to relate to. He says, “I’m sorry about the house. How much money did you lose?” He sits forward, his words rushing out, “I shouldn’t have asked something so personal. You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s nothing in the scheme of your life, but it was years of sacrifice for me.” I shouldn’t feel defensive. He’s done nothing wrong and so much good to help me. “I’m sorry for . . . that.”

“Money is a tricky topic probably best left untouched among friends.”

Friends.A kind reminder slipping back into my heart.

“Well,” I start, remembering how it played out a few months ago. “My agent advised me to bid higher if I really wanted the house. Someone already had a thirty-five-thousand-dollar earnest money offer on the table. I took a chance and won the house but lost in the end.”

“The sellers won’t give it back?”

“Legally, they don’t have to since the issue was on my side.” I crisscross my legs and pluck at a loose thread on the cushion. I glance over, trying not to stare even though he beats the view of the city hands down every time. “That was my signature on the license, and I can only reason that it was yours since it’s from before your signature went to the highest bidder.”

“Odd, right?”

“It makes no sense and leaves us no choice but to file for divorce.” I watch his face to see if I can detect how he feels, but I’ve discovered he’s good at keeping his expression shifted in neutral when he wants to. “It might go public.”

Dropping his sunglasses over his eyes, he angles away from me, redirecting his gaze beyond the hills. “I have people who can control it if given a heads-up.”

“So secretive.”

“Best you’re not involved.” The scrunch of his nose is a nice touch and draws me right in, making me want to be a part of any plan he’s concocting.

“I’m already pretty damn involved.” Speaking of rewards, I’m given a quirk of his lips that wins hearts all over the world.Andnow I see why. Not that I didn’t know already.That charming smile hasn’t changed so much since high school.

He sits forward suddenly, angling my way. “The timing will be everything. We’ll need to plan this carefully.”

His energy is contagious. “I love to plan. It’s my specialty.”

The dropping of his mouth isn’t necessary. “Planning is your specialty?”

If I hadn’t already hit my quota of eye rolls for the day, he’d be gifted with my most epic version. “You know what?” I fail to keep a straight face. “Not all of us need the limelight to get off.”

He doesn’t bother with polite. Shane practically laughs in my face. “Nothing like spending a Friday night with a good planner. You know, the kind with the grids and the extra numbered spaces to check off your accomplishments that day.”

I push up, but before I stand, he’s coming around the table with his hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding, Cat. Just giving you a hard time.” He drops into the chair next to me, kicking his legs out and crossing them at the ankle, looking more like a movie star than ever.

I finally relax again, bending my legs at the knee just in case I need to duck out quickly. “Not funny.”

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