I bit my lip, considering my options. The truth was embarrassing. Scott and I had been together for a decade, and once we’d gotten engaged, we decided to share finances. It made sense with us living together and running a business.
Then one day, everything was overdrawn. Accounts frozen. Creditors calling. The bank didn’t appreciate when you fucked around with money. Now, the only account I qualified for had ridiculous restrictions and monthly maintenance fees that I couldn’t justify when every dollar counted.
But with twenty thousand dollars?
“A check would work.”
“Great. How about we make the exchange over dinner tonight? There’s a place called Split Pine in town that has good food.”
The hope in his eyes should have given me pause. It reminded me of the way Scott used to look at me in the early days, before business replaced spontaneous weekend trips and lazy weekends. Before I became a means to an end.
I pushed the comparison away. This wasn’t the same thing at all. Lucan was being friendly. People in small towns probably did this sort of thing all the time—helped each other out, shared meals, conducted business over dinner instead of in sterile offices with bad fluorescent lighting.
I was making excuses because I wanted to say yes for reasons that had nothing to do with the knife.
“Six works for me.” The words came out steadier than I felt. “I’ll meet you there.”
His mouth opened like he was about to say something, then he closed it again. He nodded once, a bit too quickly. “Yeah. Six at Split Pine.”
A small, stupid part of me deflated. The part that had possibly thought he might offer to pick me up. Which was ridiculous because this wasn’t a date. This was a business transaction that happened to involve food.
I was selling him a knife. He was buying said knife. We would eat. He would give me a check. I would deposit it and figure out what the hell came next.
That was all.
“Great.” I forced brightness into my voice that I didn’t quite feel. “Split Pine at six. I’ll be there.”
I wanted to smack my forehead. Could I be any more awkward?
“Looking forward to it.” He stood, grabbing the donut box and his coffee cup. For a second, he stood there, looking at mewith an expression I couldn’t make sense of. Then he cleared his throat. “I should get to work.”
“Right. Of course.”
He took a step backward, still watching me. “See you tonight, Liz.”
“See you tonight.”
He turned and walked to his truck, and I definitely didn’t watch the way his work pants fit as he moved. That would have been inappropriate and unprofessional, and I was absolutely not that person.
The truck engine rumbled to life. He lifted his hand in a wave before pulling away, leaving me standing beside the RV with half a cup of coffee and a head full of thoughts I had no business thinking about.
Twenty thousand dollars.
It was breathing room. It was options. It was the ability to make choices instead of reacting to whatever disaster came next.
I could return to Reno, find a cheap rental, and rebuild in a place where I had been comfortable. I could even get back into construction management.
But the thought made my stomach twist.
Reno meant running into people who’d known Scott and me as a couple. It meant fielding questions about what happened, explaining over and over why the business failed, why we split, and why I looked so tired and worn down. It meant walking past our favorite breakfast spot and the hardware store where we’d bought supplies for years, and that house we’d almost bought together.
I didn’t want the memories.
Chapter 9
Liz
Iarrived at Split Pine embarrassingly early. My excuse? I needed to scope out the place and use the bathroom before Lucan showed up. The truth was, I’d wasted an hour trying on different outfits in the RV, hating each one more than the last, all while telling myself this wasn’t a date.
