Page 69 of Seale the Deal

Wrenley scoffs. Yeah. Stupid ones.

She shakes her head and leans forward again, resuming her pinning without missing a beat. I settle deeper into the couch, hiding a smile. I love watching her brain work.

Suddenly, there’s an ache in my chest. I frown and press a hand against it. For one concerning second, I wonder if I’m about to have a heart attack at thirty-six. But then I look over at Wrenley, completely absorbed in her sewing, and realization hits. All these moments are temporary, and while logically I understand that, somewhere along the line, my heart seems to have forgotten.

Chapter 11

Ruger

DAYS LEFT ON VISA: 63

I step into the kitchen. There’s no shift for me to pick up at the conservation office today. But there’s also no Wrenley, and maybe that’s for the best.

Ever since she told me the whole story about her ex, something in my brain has felt off. Like I’ve emotionally crossed a line I can’t uncross. I thought it would feel easier once she settled into the town a little more. Instead, it’s making it worse. I can’t seem to stop picturing her in Alpine Harbor for longer than it takes to get her green card.

I scrub a hand over my face. I need to distract myself. I grab my jacket off the hook and head for my truck. Walter’s coffee shop isn’t far, and right now, a change of scenery and time with a friend feel like the only things that will keep me from unravelling completely.

Inside the coffee shop, a few locals are scattered around, sipping their drinks and chatting. I nod at a few familiar faces, then head straight to the counter, where Walter is scrolling on his phone.

Hey, I say once I’m in front of him.

Is $9,000 for a two-year-old quad that says it was only used on Sundays and has 280 engine hours a bad deal? he asks, not looking up from his phone.

Yes, I say, deadpan. Because whoever’s selling it definitely drove it every weekend for hours. You could get a new one for that price.

Damn. Walter sighs, setting down his reading glasses and phone. That’s what I figured.

I didn’t realize you were looking for a new quad.

I’m not—well, not really. The missus wants one so we can do some adventuring together, but honestly, I doubt she’ll drive it much, he explains. Coffee?

The usual, I say. Walter starts pouring, adding a generous splash of cream. You know, you’re always welcome to borrow mine if the two of you want to get out for a ride, I offer. Just say the word.

As generous as that is, I’d rather not borrow something that expensive. If anything happened to it, I’d feel awful. I know how much you use that thing.

I shrug. Things can be replaced.

Walter hands me the cup, and I raise a brow. To-go cup? You trying to get rid of me?

Figured you were just popping in between things with Wrenley. Need anything for her?

I shake my head. She’s working.

He blinks. Working? On the show, they’re not allowed to work.

You really need to find something else to watch, I say, shaking my head. She’s not working-working. It’s a volunteer thing. Audrey needs help with the school play costumes.

Walter hums, wiping down the counter. So now you have time for me since Wrenley is busy volunteering? he says, and I hear what he’s really saying: Why aren’t you at home ripping each other’s clothes off every second?

I’ve visited you since Wrenley got here, I point out. We played pool.

Walter raises an eyebrow. Wasn’t she busy that night too?

I open my mouth to protest, then remember that’s true.

Walter points at me. Ah! See? He waves a dismissive hand. I’m just teasing. If the missus wanted me home, I’d be tripping over myself to get there.

It’s hard to know what to say. Because when I’m home with Wrenley, we’re not having sex. But that doesn’t really matter to me. I just enjoy being with her.