Once or twice, she’d packed a bag and fled to her sister’s place in Modesto, but she always came back. Nolan had a secret fear that someday, her body would end up buried in his forest, but in an off-the-record chat, the local sheriff told Nolan that unless Donna reported her husband, there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do.
And if Nolan gave in to temptation and knocked Bo’s teeth out—he wasn’t usually a violent man, honest—then he’d be the one in jail.
His palms were twitching when his phone rang. Saved by the bell.
“Excuse me, I have to take this.”
He figured it would be Alexa with an indignant denial of any ruffle-related tomfoolery, but Brax was calling.
“If this is about the six thousand bucks, I know the invoice was hella late. I only just got my accounting data back,” Nolan said.
“I assumed as much, and I already authorised the payment. Alexa worked her cyber magic?”
“I don’t know how she did it, but yeah. She brought the laptop back last week.”
“In person?” Brax sounded surprised.
“I wasn’t expecting to see her again either, but she seems to have found a new hobby fucking with my interior designer.”
“A touch of jealousy can be a beautiful thing.”
“Jealousy? Why would she be jealous? She’s never shown the slightest interest in interior design.”
“Are you really that dense?”
“Huh? If you’re talking about her dumb crush, she’s happy with Chase.”
“They might not have spelled out the parameters of their relationship, and I’ve only seen them together once, but my gaydar is pretty good and I’m ninety-nine percent certain Chase would date you before he dated Alexa.”
“You’re wrong. They sleep in the same bedroom. In the same bed.”
“Remember that trip we took to Miami?”
Nolan wasn’t likely to forget. He’d never danced, drunk, or puked so much in one week before or since. Of course, that had been in Brax’s pre-Carissa days. After she came onto the scene, his vacations were five stars and way too fucking sensible.
“You mean before the fun police showed up.”
“Please don’t remind me. That was a decade-long mistake I’ve filed under ‘what the hell was I doing?’ But yes, that week. Specifically, the night you freaked out because an inebriated brunette kept trying to remove your pants, and we ended up making out on a couch because it was the only way to convince her you weren’t one-night-stand material.”
“That was my ‘what the hell am I doing?’ moment.”
“But my point is neither of us is gay, yet we still enjoyed a little tongue action.”
“‘Enjoyed’ is a strong word.”
“Look, did you find any suspicious stains on Alexa’s sheets?”
“Chase did the laundry before they left.”
“Okay, then did you hear any cries of passion?”
“I wore earplugs.”
“Let’s focus on you for a moment. Did you do anything to give Alexa the impression that you and your interior designer might have more than a client-contractor relationship?”
Guilty as charged. “I guess that’s possible,” Nolan admitted.
“And are you involved with the woman?”
