Page 1 of No More Secrets
CHAPTER ONE
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Summer Lentz hefted her suitcase and laptop bag into the trunk of her snappy little rental car. She paused to catch her breath, grateful for the parking space she had snagged just half a block down from her Murray Hill building.
Every once in a while, her body inconveniently reminded her that recovery was a very long journey.
She took a deep breath of late spring air and resisted the urge to walk back to her apartment to verify that the door that she checked twice before leaving was indeed locked and the stove — that she never used — was off.
It was a week upstate. She’d be back to civilization before she knew it. Besides, maybe a few days without the bustle of Manhattan would allow her to recharge her batteries. Or — she grimaced at the thought — she’d completely disappear from the consciousness of everyone at work. AtIndulgence,if you weren’t there eleven hours a day, you weren’t there. The sleek Midtown West headquarters were as glossy as the pages of its magazine. And more cutthroat than a season of reality TV.
Summer had carved out a place for herself atIndulgencewithout selling too many pieces of her soul. Nine months into her promotion as associate editor, things were finally falling into place.
She had upgraded her shoebox studio to a slightly roomier one-bedroom. Her wardrobe had seen a gradual and tasteful edit. The blog that she was so proud of had grown exponentially. On the outside, her social life was a whirlwind of parties, openings, and meet-ups. Though, at times, it was hard to tell where work stopped and life began.
If she could hold herself on this trajectory without any other major crises, she could almost taste a senior editor position in her future.
The phone in her cream-colored Dooney and Bourke signaled.
Summer slid behind the wheel and swiped to answer.
“Are you farm-bound yet?” The deep, smooth voice of her best friend warmed her ear.
“Well if it isn’t the famous Nikolai Vulkov. What’s the Wolf doing today?”
Niko was second generation American, but after too much vodka, one could begin to detect the slightest hint of Russia in his bedroom tone. He had a reputation as both a talented photographer and ladies’ man, hence the nickname.
When Summer hadn’t instantly fallen under the Wolf’s spell at the magazine, they had become fast friends instead.
“You sound out of breath. Are you pushing yourself too hard?”
Summer wrinkled her nose. “What are you, my dad?”
“Do not spend this assignment hauling hay bales and tipping cows. You understand me?” he warned.
“Is tipping cows even a thing? I think that’s an urban myth.”
“Way to dance around the issue, brat.”
“I promise to take care of myself. I’ll probably be in bed every night by eight.” She flipped the sun visor down to check her eye makeup. “I doubt there’s any midnight martini special in town.”
“Well, while you’re there, text me a couple of pics of Old MacDonald and his organic farm so I can start planning for the shoot in July.”
“Will do. And while I’m gone, try not to fall desperately in love with any models.”
“I can’t promise anything. So don’t stay away too long. I may need you to vet a Brazilian beauty.”
“Never change, Niko,” Summer sighed. “I’ll see you in a week.”
She hung up and plugged the address into the GPS. Just three hours to Blue Moon Bend.
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His brother’s obnoxious ringtone had Carter Pierce straightening from his work and tossing his dirt-covered gloves to the ground.
“What?”
“Hello to you, too.” Beckett had his politician voice on, adding to Carter’s irritation.
