Page 12 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Donovan suggesting I’m hooking up with Tia is one of the most ridiculous things he’s ever said to me—and I’ve known him since we were in diapers.

“I’m not hiding shit from you. T and I have never hooked up. Not even close.”

“Then why were you both staring at each other last night like you wanted to eat each other’s faces?

I don’t know, man. I thought you were using Isabel as a cover or some shit.

” He lifts one shoulder, casually sipping his coffee as if what he’s suggesting is the most normal fucking thing in the world.

Me? Hooking up with Tia? Us? Together? No way. Well. Maybe—no. The fuck?

“You couldn’t be more wrong. She’s my best friend. We’d never cross that line.”

“ No, ” Donovan drawls, “I’m your best friend. She’s a beautiful woman who is so fucking into you, it’s not even funny.”

“It’s not funny because it’s not fucking true.”

I throw a hasty glance to Mrs. Dickinson as she drops off our food, grateful for the distraction. I plan to stuff my face with this New York strip and fries, so I can avoid talking about this any further. Unfortunately for me, Donovan won’t shut the hell up about it.

“I’m just saying. Would it be so bad? You two could be good together. Even Audrey can tell something is there.”

“Do you and Audrey also braid each other’s hair while you meddle into other people’s lives?” I tease while batting my eyelashes, popping a french fry in my mouth with a smirk. He just shakes his head, training his focus on his meal. I take that as a sign he’s tabling this discussion—for now.

Donovan is my brother. The closest thing I’ll ever have to one. He’s quick and intuitive—I’ve always admired that about him. We’ve been through everything together, thick and thin. After almost losing him this past summer, I swore I’d never take our friendship for granted again.

His words have always carried weight. When Donovan speaks, people listen.

They listened back in high school, when he captained the soccer team to victory.

They listened when he assumed leadership of his esteemed family’s successful winery and vineyard business.

Shit, I’m listening now—and his observations about Tia and me have my head spinning.

“I have plans with Isabel tonight,” I say as I cut into my steak a little too aggressively. “I was into it last night. I plan to finish what I started.”

My stomach rolls the second the words leave me. Donovan keeps his eyes on me as he slices through his steak. I avert my gaze because I’m afraid he’ll see my lie if I look at him.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. When I see the name pop up on my screen, my face falls slightly before I can catch myself. I chance a look at Donovan and see him biting back a grin.

Isabel

Let’s skip Siren’s Flask. Just come straight to mine around 8? I can make us drinks here instead? :)

“Not the girl you expected?” Donovan taunts.

“Shut up.”

Maybe he’s right. But I’ll prove him wrong.

So, I text Isabel back anyway, ignoring the way my chest knots like it’s trying to tell me otherwise.

Logan

Sounds like a plan. See you tonight.

Isabel knew exactly what she was doing when she answered the door in a low-cut, hot pink tank top that highlighted the bronze tops of her full breasts and barely there cutoff jean shorts. Now, leaning over the countertop in the kitchen, her ass cheeks hang out of them, a uniform meant for summer.

Or an outfit meant as a form of foreplay.

It would work for me if Donovan hadn’t gotten into my head earlier.

“You weren’t into it.”

“What are you in the mood for? I’ve got wine, beer, tequila?” Isabel leans her hip against her kitchen counter. I keep a little distance between us, finding a spot to sit on her spacious sectional.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been to Isabel’s house. She’s thrown a few get-togethers over the summer. Her house itself is small, but she’s got a killer backyard that’s perfect for hosting.

But this is the first time I’m here alone. Knowing Isabel, she’s not one for pleasantries. She’s direct, blunt, and incredibly brazen. I know the offering of drinks is to loosen me up, since I’m suddenly wound up tight—and it’s not from arousal.

“Um, I’ll take a beer. Whatever you’ve got is great. Thanks, Iz.”

Opening her fridge, she pulls out two bottles and quickly pops the caps off with a magnet that serves as a bottle opener.

She hands me the beer, then slides in beside me like a kitten, her smooth thighs brushing against mine. With her elbow propped on the back of the couch and her cheek resting in her hand, she watches me, a playful glint sparking in her eyes.

Soft music humming in the background does nothing to calm my nerves. I tell myself to shake off this awkwardness I’m harboring. I know I came here to give Isabel what she wants—a casual night without our clothes on.

A day ago, I was happy to give in to this. Hell, it’s a perfect situation for me. Hot single girl, throwing herself in my lap and promising a night of fun? No ties? No commitments? Sign me the fuck up.

But then Tia’s voice started ringing in my head.

“She’s not another one of your casual playthings.”

“Isabel is a friend.”

“You break hearts, Lo.”

Her jealous undertone has had me twisted since last night. I saw the looks she gave me when Isabel clung to me like a baby koala. I mean, the girl showed up naked as the day she was born and leaped into my arms. I was into it—or so I thought.

I didn’t miss the sideways glances from Tia or the longing in her expression. It confused the hell out of me, but I did my best to ignore it with Isabel breathing down my neck and whispering naughty things in my ear all night.

But if Donovan can see it, then maybe there’s some truth to it.

“What’s up with you, huh?” Isabel nudges me with her thigh. She takes a long pull from her beer, and I watch her slender throat work as she swallows it down. I’m waiting for a reaction from my guy below the belt…but nothing’s happening.

I sigh, putting the beer down on her coffee table. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being fucking weird.”

Isabel scoots in behind me on the couch, propping herself up on her knees. Her hands settle on my shoulders as her fingers press deep into the muscle with just the right pressure. Tension melts like she knows exactly where every knot lives.

“You need to relax. Tell me what’s going on,” Isabel says softly.

I stifle a moan as my eyes flutter shut. It’s hard to think when she’s working her hands the way she is, her lavender scent filling the air.

Isabel leans into my back, then presses into me. The soft curve of her breasts flush against my back. Her thumbs dig into the base of my neck, and my body betrays me. A wave of heat rolls down my spine. I grip the edge of the couch until my fingers ache, grounding myself in anything but her.

“This would feel better if I could touch your skin. I can get deeper,” she whispers seductively into my ear. Her fingers trail down my back slowly, brushing against the warm skin of my lower back. I reach behind me, gripping her wrist to stop her.

We both startle when my phone goes off in my pocket. “Stand By Me” by Ben E. King blares out—my ringtone for Tia. Isabel lifts a curious brow, probably because of the song choice.

“Inside joke,” I mutter as I pull my phone from my pocket.

I’ve always paired this song with Tia for as long as I can remember. It was the first song she played on her record player freshman year in her dorm room when I came to study for the first time. So I’m a little sentimental about it and made it her ringtone. Hasn’t changed since that day.

Isabel lets out a small laugh when she sees the contact picture I have for Tia from this past summer.

She’s asleep on Donovan’s couch with her mouth open, a stack of Oreos piled up on the side of her face.

Donovan’s in the background giving a thumbs up while my mouth is wide open at her head, as if I’m trying to eat her.

“Sorry, Iz. I need to get this real quick.” Isabel nods and moves next to me on the couch as I pick up Tia’s call.

“Hey, T.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise the moment I hear her sniffle on the other end. Before I can think, I’m already moving, grabbing my keys from the little bowl Isabel keeps by the front door, heart pounding like it knows something I don’t yet.

“Where are you, Tia?”

Tia’s breath stutters through the line—hiccupping, like she’s barely keeping it together. She never cries. Not like this.

And just like that, every part of me shifts into motion.

I need to get to her. Now.

“T-Torren’s … L-Logan. I-I’m?—”

“Stay there. I’m on my way to you. You hear me? I’m coming, T.”

“O-o-okay.”

I can tell she’s covering the phone, trying to muffle her sobs. I hang up, already gripping the doorknob and ready to bolt. But then I catch sight of the pink welcome mat beneath my feet—and it hits me. I’m at Isabel’s.

I turn to apologize, but she’s already standing there, offering me a soft, understanding smile on her face.

“It’s okay. She needs you.”

Relief crashes over me—I didn’t want to explain, and now I don’t have to. But guilt follows fast. I hate the thought of leading Isabel on. I feel like an asshole, and part of me hopes this doesn’t taint our friendship.

My eyes search hers for reassurance, and Isabel gives it to me by kissing me on the cheek and shoving me lovingly out of her door. “Seriously, we’re good. Now go!”

I give a quick nod and bolt across her yard, adrenaline already kicking in. The engine growls beneath me, and I don’t hesitate. I’m flying down the street, burning through every red light like they don’t exist.

Tia needs me, and nothing’s going to stop me from getting to her.