Page 8 of Practically Perfect Together

"Let me walk you to your car," Jameson offers.

As we make our way back toward the main lodge, I spot a woman walking up the path from the parking area, blonde hair gleaming in the porch light as she juggles a stack of folders. At the same moment, Liam steps out onto the porch, stopping abruptly when he sees her.

"Who's that?" I ask, noting Liam's sudden tension.

"Lauren Abbott. Bookkeeper and housekeeping manager. Lives in town but works at the lodge in the back office." Jameson's tone shifts slightly. "Also Liam's ex-wife. Mom hired her a few months ago."

We watch as Lauren hands one of her folders to Liam. Their fingers brush during the exchange, and Liam jerks back as if burned, nearly dropping the folder.

"I know how to do my job, Liam," Lauren says as we approach, just loud enough to overhear.

"Yeah, well, I know how you leave things unfinished." His voice is tight, controlled.

A flicker of hurt crosses Lauren's face before she spots us. "Oh! Hello. You must be Savannah. Jules mentioned you were consulting on events."

"She's my fiancée," Jameson says, his arm sliding around my waist.

Lauren's eyes widen. "Fiancée? Congratulations!" She extends her hand to me. "I'm Lauren Abbott."

"Nice to meet you," I reply.

"I should finish these reports," Liam says stiffly. "Goodnight."

As he walks away, Lauren sighs. "I've got those comparisons you asked for," she calls after him. "I'll email them tomorrow."

"Fine," he responds without turning back.

"Sorry about that," Lauren says to us before heading to the parking lot. "It was lovely to meet you, Savannah."

Once she's gone, Jameson glances toward the office where Liam has disappeared. "I should check on him. Wait here?"

Through the office window, I see Jameson approach his brother. He nudges Liam's shoulder and says something that makes Liam's posture stiffen even more. Even from here, I can read Jameson's lips: "Still awkward?"

Liam simply grunts and turns away.

"Family drama," Jameson explains when he returns. "The lodge specializes in it."

"They seem like they have unfinished business," I observe as we walk to my car.

"About five years' worth," he agrees. "But that's tomorrow's problem."

At my car, Jameson leans against the door. "So, scale of one to ten, how did we do tonight?"

"Maybe a seven? We didn't have to answer too many difficult questions."

"Seven?" He looks offended. "I was at least an eight and a half."

I laugh despite myself. "Fine. Eight, but only because your mother was so easy to convince."

"Mom's a hopeless romantic," he says fondly. "I'll see you tomorrow at nine. Strictly professional."

"Strictly professional," I echo, though something about his smile makes the words feel hollow.

ChapterFour

Jameson

"And that's when I knew she was the one," I say, reaching for Savannah's hand across the white tablecloth. "When she organized an entire stargazing event down to the minute, but still stopped everything to help a little girl find her lost teddy bear."

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