Page 27 of Lemon Crush

I needed help in my bedroom with my new toy. Right now.

Stop.

That wasn’t what he was implying, no matter how suggestive everything he said was sounding lately. He was playing nice to ensure a few more months in the apartment, being handy because he was grateful. Why else would he have tossed aside years of ignoring me like I was the bug he couldn’t scrape off his windshield and transformed into a hot snack of conversationally available neighbor overnight?

I cleared my throat and took a step back. “You’ve done too much already, but I appreciate all of it. Let the guys know they’re free to ‘cool off’ in the pool. I never use it, but somebody should. And don’t worry. Other than letting Merlin out once or twice, I’ll be too busy writing to disturb you.”

Too busy writing.I did love saying that. Especially when it wasn’t a lie.

Making myself close the door on his handsome, frowning face wasn’t easy, but I needed the space to kick myself for setting up a golden opportunity and then blowing it.

Why hadn’t I mentioned Jiminy? Why hadn’t I told him the plan?

Because he might react like Chick had when I’d told him about it.Hisknee-jerk reaction had been“Are you insane?”Followed by a long rant on the dangers of the evil automobile that lasted until I managed to calm him down and clarify my reasons, as well as the basics of the race. Chick had eventually gotten over it and was nowon my side, but if Wade disagreed, something told me he wouldn’t be so easily persuaded. We didn’t have the same kind of relationship.

Why would he disagree?

I couldn’t think of a single reason. Still, I didn’t want to ruin things. We were getting along now. We said hello at least once a day. We’d texted a few times—he’d asked if I needed anything from the store when he was grocery shopping, and I’d told him our internet was back on after it had been off for two hours.

It wasn’t a budding forever friendship or a whirlwind romance or anything, but it was good, and I didn’t want to do anything to spoil it.

On the other hand, if I wanted in the race, I was going to have to chance it soon. Maybe even today. Although I had promised Wade two minutes ago that I wouldn’t bother them.

I headed for the coffee maker, still weighing the pros and cons, but hadn’t taken two steps when a loud ringing sounded from upstairs. From my computer.

“Crap. Morgan.”

Racing upstairs was a lot harder than walking down them, but I managed before the ringing stopped, accepting the call as I plopped heavily back down in my chair. Man, I was really out of shape.

“August?”

“Hi, Morgan,” I wheezed. “Sorry. In the kitchen. You look great today.”

She was rocking the natural look with no makeup and big sunglasses holding back the tight curls she’d stopped dyeing over five years ago—much to our mother’s chagrin, sinceshe’dfought aging with a ferocity that was always funny and occasionally off-putting.

Morgan had welcomed it with zero classy fucks. Partly out of obstinance, and partly because the liberal silver actually made herlook younger and enhanced her light brown skin and green eyes to perfection.

Currently she was at an outdoor bistro, a colorful scarf around her neck and a light breeze softly caressing her curls. There were sailboats moored behind her and misty hilltops looming in the distance as the sun set. She was a living, breathing advertisement for the joys of international travel.

“I was about to say the same thing.” The surprise in her voice only put a tiny dent in my pleasure at the compliment. “You’ve got color in your cheeks and you look like you’ve been working out. Did you start working out again?”

“I’ve been showering on the regular and I ran up the stairs, that’s all.”

That was not remotely all, but these daily calls weren’t the right place to tell her that Wade had moved into the apartment and resuscitated my dying libido along with my writing.

This was about where she was and what she was doing.

Without me.

“So, what was on the schedule today?” I asked, settling in for the detailed description she was always careful to give me.

She shook her head. “I’m more interested in what’s on the schedule tomorrow. I’m watching the weather because there’s a hurricane coming. It looks like it could hit by late afternoon.”

“It’s going to be a big one,” Gene warned off camera.

The sky behind her looked clear and beautiful, but a ball of sticky anxiety instantly coagulated in my stomach at her words. She was in a country shaped like a boot and surrounded by water. It might as well have been the Florida of Europe, and Florida never fared well during hurricane season.

“Tomorrow?” I parroted. “Have you talked to the airlines? Did they cancel the cruise yet?”

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