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“What’s the story about how we got together?”
“Well,” he said, glancing at me. “I suppose we could tell a version of the truth. It’ll be much easier than trying to keep up with a lie.”
I frowned, thinking back to almost twenty years ago. “What version would that be?”
Greer propped his elbow on the window and rubbed his beard with his fingers. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. “Even though we’d met when you were a teenager, we ran into each other in Chicago before you left for the Navy.”
That was true.
“We had major chemistry, but I was so much older than you. And you’re Carter’s younger brother.” Greer sounded pained to talk about this, but someone was going to ask. It was a given.
“And?” I waited for what he would say.
“And you went into the Navy and became a SEAL.”
I rubbed a spot on my chest. “And you got married.”
My tone caused Greer to look away, but I shifted my gaze back to the window. I was definitely getting a counselor when I got back to Portland.
“Austin,” he said, but I raised my hand to stop him.
“That’s fine. That’ll work. And we met again in Portland when my firm relocated and joined forces with Aidan Hayes.”
“Yes, that’s right. We have Jesse and Dominick to connect us again.”
I nodded. We didn’t talk much after that. I tried to lose myself in the scenery, but he’d already made himself at home in my head.
Was that what really happened? Did Greer have a crisis of conscience back then because of Carter? Or was he already engaged to be married?
The longer I thought about it, the more I was convinced I didn’t want to know. Either way, it was going to fucking hurt.
CHAPTER 11
GREER
I’d lost count of how many times Austin Wentworth had caused my fifty-eight-year-old heart to beat erratically and off the rails in the half a day we’d spent together. I’d told him we were staying in a hotel, but we weren’t. We were staying at my house. So when the driver drove into the driveway, Austin looked over at me, confused. But he didn’t say a word until the driver had taken our bags from the trunk and placed them on the concrete driveway.
“I thought you said we were staying at a hotel.”
I picked up my bag and smiled. “About that. The guests are staying at a hotel, but we’re staying here. With my family.”
Austin turned and looked at my three-story vacation home that sat mere yards from the white sands of the beach. “Only you would have a fucking mansion on the beach in Costa Rica.”
“What are you accusing me of?”
“Being a wealthy asshole billionaire.”
I started for the door. “You too are a wealthy asshole billionaire.”
He followed me up to the door, past the three-car garage where my cars were stored. We didn’t need to rent one when I had three to choose from.
From the portico over the front door, tropical flowers trailed up the sides, providing a beautiful welcome to the property. But the front was a blank canvas compared to the back of the house that faced the ocean.
Tapping in the key code, I opened the door and stepped aside, like a gentleman, so he could enter before me. Watching him take in the grandeur of my home was fascinating.
“You’re trying to find something ugly to say, aren’t you? But you can’t.”
Austin scowled at me, then set his bag down at the bottom of the staircase. “I guess that means I get my own room after all.”
