Page 21 of Hearts Adrift (A Texas Beach Town Romance #4)

It’s the cutest thing, watching Finn and Brooke.

Battling it out over keeping secrets and controversy.

I can’t tell whether my presence here is the greatest or the worst news, from how Brooke’s attitude ricochets left and right by every sentence Finn utters here in this colorful game room.

They’re basically playing foosball without the foosball table, spinning their players, knocking the ball at each other with increasingly exasperated intent.

Eventually, the whole story is gotten out, and Brooke instantly becomes a celebrity fixer. “No really,” she says with her hands spread, “we can get ahead of this. Easily. I am a wizard with social media. Primarily: optics.”

“River has professional people for this,” says Finn with a note of weariness. “He doesn’t need you to write a post to his followers, of all people.”

“Of all people?” She scoffs. “Don’t be a Heather. You are sorely underestimating my abilities here.”

“This is a big deal, Brooke,” he presses back, squared off with her at the opposite end of the couch. “A seriously big deal involving a celebrity with millions of eyes on his every move.”

“You don’t think I know it’s serious? Ugh, you really are being a Heather ,” she mumbles to herself, crossing her arms. “While we’re on it, tell me: what exactly are these so-called ‘professionals’ doing?

Other than nothing. These professionals suck.

Silence is just as much a response as doubling down—or worse.

” She turns to me, her eyes bright and thoughtful.

“Mr. Wolfe, might there be a chance you have the login info to all your social media accounts, or are they controlled by your agency?”

I frown. “Sorry, can’t do anything with my socials. My agent told me to hang low and stay off the internet. I think I’ve pissed him and my team off enough. Hands are tied.”

“Hmm. I can still work with that, Mr. Wolfe. Is it okay to call you that? Mr. Wolfe? Never mind, I’d call you that whether you tell me just River is okay or not. I’m gonna need to know all your socials that exist to study them. It’s been about a week or so, but we can still turn this around.”

“Brooke …” gripes Finn, frustrated.

“I know you don’t want to go after the director head-on for two reasons,” she continues. “One: you don’t want to out your friend as the victim or force her into the spotlight. Two: you can’t exactly go up against a big beast like Trent Embers with just a pointed finger …”

“This is dangerous,” Finn keeps cutting in.

“So instead, we’ll prioritize changing the conversation about Mr. Wolfe’s character …

with simple redirection .” Her eyes flick through a dozen thoughts a second, passion burning behind them.

I do like that passion. “Two waves. Now hear me out. First wave: plant seeds of doubt all over the place. Posts pointing out odd things in the viral video that don’t make sense.

‘ This is what I find weird ’ and ‘ This doesn’t add up ’ taglines …

stuff like that. Focus on the timing of the video.

What’s omitted. How it all feels too convenient.

Even the punch itself can be questioned. ”

“But the punch was real,” I point out, then smile, “and deeply satisfying.”

“Of course it was, and I wish I was there. But! … If we aren’t able to tell everyone why you punched him—for fear of the spotlight zeroing in on your friend—then we need to make everyone wonder for themselves .

Hence instilling all of the doubt in this first wave.

We can push unrelated but similar stories about others abusing their power.

Nothing gets people going more than injustice.

We’ll remind them this happens, get people talking and considering things—it’s a great social media primer for wave número dos : the Love River Wolfe train. ”

“Love River Wolfe—??” Finn blurts, then shuts up and cradles his head in his hands, overwhelmed, plopping down on the couch with a sigh.

Brooke, unaffected, spreads her hands. “Second wave: after everyone’s full of doubts and questions about the video, we strike with clips of you being funny on set, or silly, cute …

anything to humanize you. Caught in the act of doing something kind for someone.

Bloopers … real behind-the-scenes stuff.

I’ll scatter them everywhere with shadow accounts, taglines like ‘River so goofy’ or ‘River is too real’, hashtags, the works. It won’t come from you.”

“I don’t know about this,” mumbles Finn.

“It isn’t your opinion I need,” she says, then eyes me.

Finn keeps muttering to himself on the couch while his sister patiently awaits my answer.

My feelings about the whole matter have been as chaotic and undecided as they were the instant I chose to run away here to Dreamwood.

I wonder if I ever cared what’s gonna happen to my career.

Perhaps I let it all go the second I let myself fly out of that press meeting before it even started, off on a quick trip to the bathroom that I never returned from.

My agent hasn’t called me back since that first time. Is he even someone I can trust? This “team” of his, who have done fuck all to help the situation? Things online only keep going from bad to worse with no relief in sight.

Maybe someone like Brooke is exactly what I need.

“None of this will track back to Finn or us in any way,” she adds. “That’s why I’d use shadow accounts … burner accounts, in other words. I use them to promote the Fair.”

“You do?” blurts Finn, lifting his head from his hands and twisting to shoot her a surprised look. “Since when?”

Brooke makes a face. “How else do you think I got us all these people hitting up Booty Bridge—” She enjoys a private giggle at the name before resuming uninterrupted.

“—this weekend? You seriously think those flyers make a difference? Dad’s permanently living in 1995.

No one pays attention to paper , boo, they pay attention to phones .

” She returns her full attention to me. “All you’ve gotta do, Mr. Wolfe, is tell me you’re okay with my plan—Project Let’s Love River Wolfe—and I’ll hop right on it. ”

I give it half a breath’s thought, then shrug. “Sure.”

Finn spins to face me, stunned. “Really?”

Brooke grins proudly like I just pinned a gold medal of awesomeness on her.

“I’ll make a plan and let you know what I need.

We’ll make this work. I’m sorry your people are bad at their jobs.

I’ll do my best to do what they won’t. And might I say …

” She giggles. “I still can’t believe the River Wolfe is in my house right now, standing in the same room as me, and having a secret thing with my little bro. ”

“We’re not having a … a thing ,” sputters Finn.

“We’re not?” I ask right back.

He draws silent.

Brooke smacks Finn’s arm. “And to think you had me believing you and Chase were the secret thing. I should’ve known better.

That Chase is pickier than Goldilocks when it comes to dating guys.

No one is ‘just right’ for him.” She giggles suddenly, overcome.

“I can’t believe my life right now. I’ve never been filled with more purpose.

” And with that, she dances out of the room.

“Hey!” Finn calls out at her. “Remember you’re sworn to secrecy! No one can know! Not even Dad!” But she’s already long gone, leaving us by ourselves.

I tilt my head. “So we’re not a thing?”

He turns back. “What?”

I come up to him. “This? Us? We’re not a thing?”

He rises to his feet. “Why are you letting my sister take over like this? She’s serious, I hope you realize. Brooke is addicted to this whole social media thing, day in and day out. This isn’t just a game to her.”

“As one who … happens to know a thing or two about addiction, that …” I point. “… is not an addiction. That … is a passion .”

“Okay. Passion . She has a passion for doing this, and she takes it very seriously.”

“I know.”

“Then how can you agree so flippantly to just … to just let her …” He crosses his arms with a sigh. “I do not want my sister to get in too deep with this and … and get into trouble. This is way over her head. I’m worried, River.”

“She seems to know exactly what she’s doing.”

“That’s just Brooke. You can ask her to climb Everest and she’ll take off running to Nepal or Tibet after half an hour of research.”

“Let’s have a little faith in her for now. I’ve been to a hundred promo meetings and not one of my team members had half the confidence your sister does.” I tug on his shirt. “Getting back to my first point: why aren’t we a thing?”

“River,” he growls.

“We were on our way to your room a minute ago.” He tries to say something else, but I put my finger to his lips. “Let our bodies do the talking.”

Then I replace my finger with my lips, kissing him with fire-rekindling intensity. He tries to resist for half a second before at last melting against me. The two of us drop back onto the couch, and I straddle his lap, taking him over, ready to pick up right where we left off.

He presses a hand to my chest. “River … I can’t.”

I pull back an inch. “Wouldn’t it be a touch easier with your cool sister knowing?” I point out. “I mean, we don’t have to sneak around as much, right?”

“I have another less-forgiving sister. And a dad .”

“I’ll win them over, too.”

“And no, I don’t think we’re a thing.” He looks away, nearly pouting. “I don’t think we’re … just a thing.”

The subtle addition of that word “just” does so much.

So, so much to me.

I put a finger under his chin, directing his face back to mine. “A ‘thing’ can be whatever we want it to be. Serious. Fun. Lifelong. A fling.”

“I don’t—I thought we …” Then he lets it out: “I don’t fucking want a fling , River.”

The cuss word is what truly sobers me. Finn really isn’t having fun. “Sorry.” I pull back. “I thought we—”

“Please let me up.”

It feels like ripping myself away when I get off of him. He rises from the couch at once and circles away from me to the window where he stops.