Don’t do it.
Sorry, Eden. I’m pretty sure that rule has expired.
Damien appears at the edge of my vision, a shadow decked in crisp cotton and false authority. “Everything okay?” A territorial note hardens the edge of his voice. He must have heard what Greer said about me keeping her up past her bedtime.
Good. Let the fucker think she spent the night in my bed. Let him think I gave her the pleasure she never got from him. God knows I want to. Last night with her made me realize just how much I’d like to be the one invading her dreams, taking up space inside her mind. Inside her life.
But Greer now just goes a little pink. “I’m fine.” She cuts a quick glance at me, and then it’s like she can’t help the spark of mischief that dances in her eyes. She smooths her smile into something less revealing and turns to Damien. “Tired from some late-night work.”
Our secret is ours, and it feels like something to hold between my hands. A flutter of wings between cupped palms.
Damien’s eyebrows pull together. “Good.” He jerks his chin in a curt, dismissive nod and then strides away.
Eden gives me a lingering gaze, so I say, “See you at ten,” and turn back to my computer, hoping she’ll take the hint.
She gives me a two-finger salute. “You got it, boss.”
Boss? Does she know about the San Francisco job?
My whole body tenses and my heart rate spikes. I look to see if Greer’s noticed, but she’s just making moony eyes at her coffee, and Eden’s smile lacks any trace of suspicion or subterfuge. She’s just being affectionate. That’s all this is.
Still, I spend the next few minutes recovering from my heart attack, realizing just how screwed I am. This job and all its possibilities loom before me, and it’s a decision so big I could use a sounding board. Normally I’d talk to Greer because she’s got a fantastic way of putting life into perspective and reminding me that it’s an adventure that I can’t possibly mess up. But this time is different. This time, the person I want to talk to most is the last person on Earth I should tell. This time I’ve got the feeling that with one wrong step, everything important to me could crumble apart.
Greer looks up from her computer as Eden and I spill out of our morning meeting and walk back to our desks.
“Is it seriously only eleven?” she asks as I slide into my chair. “It feels like it should be nine at night.”
“I’m with you. I wish employer-sponsored nap time were a thing.”
Greer sets her palms on the table and widens her eyes. “It’s not?” she deadpans.
“Afraid not.” I scan her pale skin, the hair she wears in a braid over one shoulder instead of styled in its normal glossy waves. I give her five minutes before she falls asleep on the spot. “I hate to say it, but you look like you’re going to faceplant on your keyboard.”
Greer winces. “I’m not the staying out late expert. You tell me, is it normal to be so dizzy?”
The smile falls off my face as I look at her in concern. “You feel dizzy right now?”
Even her sigh is tired. “Am I talking to the Locke on the left or the Locke on the right?”
Shit.
“Greer, if you’re dizzy, you need to rest. Go home.”
She plumbs her lips in a frown. “I drove today to save time. I’ll just wait it out here until I can make it back.”
Like hell you will.
Every protective cell in my body screams in dissent, and I push back from my chair. “Come on. Pack up.” I slide my laptop into my bag, and Greer blinks up at me.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“We are going someplace you can rest.”
She shakes her head at me. “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”
I shrug on my coat. “Nope. Come on.” I lean forward and lower my voice, then add a pointed, “Babe.”
Her mouth drops open, and color floods her cheeks. Because I’ve embarrassed her or because she wants me? I can’t quite tell.
“Don’t mess with me, Lachlan,” she warns, her voice a low, throaty whisper. “I’m too tired to know the difference.”
Never, I want to say. I’d never lie to you about how I feel. But isn’t that what I’ve been doing all along by keeping my feelings to myself?
I stuff the words down my throat, and finally Greer complies and starts to gather her bag. We try to slip out silently, but Damien glances back at us like he’s taking note, and a dark scowl crawls across his face.
As far as I’m concerned, that fucker can go screw himself. He might have let Greer go, but I’m not going to. I offer her my elbow and she takes it, and together we head toward the door.
13
Greer
Best friends who are secretly in love with their best friends shouldn’t say yes to sleepovers with them. Screw the Golden Rule. This is the dominant guidance we should all live by. Yet as we cross through the intersection of 45th and Wallingford Ave—to a sleepover—my toe catches on the edge of the bumpy sidewalk and I go down hard on the cement.
Unwittingly, tears spring to my eyes.
Lachlan rushes to my side with his eyebrows drawn together and concern brewing in his dark gaze. “Are you hurt?”
I blink quickly to clear my vision. “Just my pride.” Then I stretch out one leg and wince as my jeans chafe against raw skin. “Maybe a skinned knee, too.”
“Come on.” He hooks a capable hand around my arm and gently guides me to my feet. “My place is closer.”
Did I hear him right? I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”
Locke gestures for us to turn down Wallingford Ave instead of continuing on the straight path that would lead me home. “You need to get off your feet. You can
