Page 5

RIVER

“Asinine, asshole jerkface. Trust me. It isn’t. Ugh. Whatever. You can shove your sexy-as-sin smirk right up your?—”

“Um, River? Are you okay?”

I glance up, stopping in my tracks in the doorway of Making Waves, the boutique I’ve worked my ass off to make a hit.

“You good, boss?” Caroline’s baby blue eyes are filled with concern as she gives me a small smile.

I sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…”

“Dean again?” She grins knowingly.

“He’s the worst.”

“That’s what I hear.” She grabs another set of earrings, setting them in the display case. “Though I’m not sure how someone with a voice like that can be the worst.”

“That is my exact issue— you can hear him from two stories down.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Yes, but I’m not complaining about it. Cooper doesn’t complain either. That makes it two against one, not including the rest of the tenants who stand on their balconies, cheering him on…”

“But you’re not right next door to him. It’s different.”

“I’m sure it is,” she murmurs, finishing organizing the first jewelry station and moving on to the next.

I ignore the way she says it, like there’s more she’s hinting at.

“How did closing go last night?” I slide behind the counter, logging on to the computer to check up on things.

“We had someone come in thirty minutes before close, and she ended up buying five pieces. Gave us the best day of the month.”

Relief zings through me.

I started Making Waves on my own five years ago.

Despite the way I’m currently dressed, I’ve always loved clothes and accessories.

Finding the right outfit and shoes can change my whole mood—something I should have considered when I woke up crabby—and I love helping others find a piece that makes them feel good too.

When I graduated college with a BA in business management, I knew I wanted to make those four grueling years worth it by doing something I enjoy.

Starting a company on my own wasn’t easy.

At times, it downright sucked. Business was slow, almost nonexistent in the beginning.

For the first three years, it was just me.

I couldn’t afford to hire anyone else. I’d have been dead on my feet in the first six months if it weren’t for Maya volunteering all her time to help me keep the fledgling business alive.

One month, business finally picked up. Then it happened again. And again. The trend continued to tick upward, and I was so swamped I had to officially hire someone or I’d have burned myself out completely.

Caroline stumbled through the door looking for a job at just the right time two years ago. With Maya finally divorcing her asshole ex and needing a job ASAP, I knew she’d make the perfect addition to the business too.

There was a lot of sweat and tears, but the three of us continued our upward trend in sales, even expanding to having a mobile shop for pop-up events, and earlier this year, we dipped our toes into online.

Though there are plenty of days where I feel like it will all be ripped away at a moment’s notice, it’s starting to feel like I’m actually going to make it.

Knowing what our previous best day this month was and exceeding it…

well, it totally makes up for Dean stealing my pie this morning and firmly puts me in a good mood.

“Good. That’s good.”

“Breathe, River. You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We’re doing good— better than good. You can relax a little, you know.”

I throw a glance her way over the top of the computer screen. “You sound like Maya.”

“Don’t tell her I said this, because she’d never stop gabbing about it, but she’s right.”

I grab my phone and hold it up. “Can you repeat that? I need to get it on record for blackmail later.”

“I’ll take it to my grave, thank you.” She pushes my hand away. “But I’m serious, boss.”

“I heard you,” I mutter. “That’s a cute top. One of yours?” I ask to distract her, and because it is a cute top.

In fact, her whole outfit is pretty. Her long legs look amazing in a pair of simple skinny jeans that are fringed at the bottom, leading to a pair of plain white shoes. The real star of the show is her oversized pattern-blocked top that hangs off one of her shoulders. It’s trendy and fun.

She looks so put together, unlike me.

Whatever. It was a long, rough night, and not in the way I wanted it to be.

I’m almost starting to think Maya might be onto something about me being picky…

Caroline’s cheeks redden at the subject change. She revealed her secret talent for designing clothes about six months ago. I’ve been begging her to make a few pieces for the shop, but she’s painfully shy about it. Well, that and everything else it seems.

Though her bashfulness has improved since she moved here, there are still some things she’s tight-lipped about, her design abilities being one of them.

The only person I’ve seen her flourish around is her childhood best friend and roommate, Cooper.

She insists they’re just friends, but I swear there’s something brewing between them.

I have never seen two people so in tune with one another before, but I guess the same could be said about Maya and me, and I can confirm there’s nothing brewing between us.

It’s just my romance-deprived mind trying to find something that isn’t there.

She tucks away one of the tendrils hanging free from the long dark blonde hair that’s piled in a messy bun on the top of her head. “It is.”

“It would?—”

“Look lovely in the front window?” She smirks. “I know, and I love you for saying that. I’m just not ready.”

I laugh. “Am I that predictable?”

“Yes, just like I know you’re about to say When you are ready, you know I’m here. Like you always do.”

“But—”

“River…”

“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up. “I won’t say anything else.”

“Good. Now, what are you doing here?” Caroline checks the watch on her wrist, then pushes off the counter, heading toward the front door. “Today is your day off.”

“Just checking in on things.” I don’t mention to her that I was also here earlier this morning working on inventory when I was unable to sleep and going mad inside my apartment.

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you. I?—”

“Did some big order come up?”

“No. I?—”

“Did you need to come in?”

“Well, no. But?—”

“Then go home, River.” She flips the open sign on and straightens a mannequin’s blouse before making her way back over to the counter.

“There’s no reason for you to be here. You’re here so much I’m starting to think you have a cot in the back office.

I mean, you do look like you might have slept here… ”

I let out a long, tired groan, rubbing at my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Was your Cheeseman date so bad you couldn’t sleep?”

“His name was Cheddar , Caroline. Cheddar! Of course the date was that bad.”

“Sorry.” She winces. “Maybe you should take a break. All these failed dates are wearing you out. I mean…” She darts her eyes to my outfit.

I sigh defeatedly. “You might be right.”

She pulls her phone from her pocket, holding it out to me. “Can you repeat that? Gonna need it for blackmail later.”

I roll my eyes. “Remind me again why I hired you?”

“Because I was the only person desperate for the paltry salary you were offering? Which reminds me…you are paying me to be here today, not yourself. So…”

I lift a brow. “Your subtlety needs work.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be subtle, River. You need a break from this place. Take at least one night off. It won’t kill you.”

“How do you know? It could. I’ve never tried, and I’m still alive. Why risk it now?”

“ That is the exact problem—you’ve never tried. Everything is fine here. Go home.”

I groan. “All right. I’ll leave.”

“And go home, where you’ll stay the entire night,” she instructs. When I open my mouth, she shakes her head and points a finger at me. “Nope. I don’t want to hear it. No calling either.”

I smash my lips together, nodding, accepting my fate. I grab my purse, rounding the counter.

“Home and no calling,” I promise.

“Good.” She grabs me by the shoulders, ushering me toward the shop door. “Take a bath or something. You need to relax.”

Oh, man. A bath. Water so hot I can barely stand it. Candles and a good book. That sounds like heaven… “A bath does sound good.”

“Have a whiskey in there. Or cake. Eating cake in the bathtub always makes me feel better.”

“Cake in the tub? But pie…”

“Then get pie. Do it. Trust me.”

“Whatever you say.” I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tight. “Thank you, Caroline. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes. I’m so happy you said yes to the paltry salary.”

She laughs, hugging me back. “Me too. Now go home.”

“I thought I was the boss around here…”

“Not today. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She practically shoves me out the door, clicking the lock shut behind me.

“You better remember to unlock that!”

She rolls her eyes, waving me off.

I take a deep breath and turn toward my apartment building, which is five blocks away.

Home. A nice bath. A glass of whiskey.

They’re all calling my name.

First stop, pie.

“Morris! Get down from there!”

Meow.

“Yes.”

Meow.

“I am your treat-giver. You better listen to me, mister.”

Meow.

“Dammit, Morris! You’re going to fall in and go nuts and ruin this whole experience for me.”

This is what my life has come to—arguing with my cat while I take a bath, slice of pie in hand.

The little shit finally hops down, only to jump onto the toilet and into his favorite spot in the apartment: the bathroom sink.

He meows again.

“Good. I’m glad you found your spot. Now let me relax in peace. Swear, I am never having kids,” I mutter. “If a cat is this demanding, hard pass on children.”

I scoot down in the tub, careful to keep my pie safely above water.

When I was first looking at apartments, number one on my must-haves list was a big bathtub. It might seem like a trivial requirement, but nothing beats a good soak when the demons living in my uterus try to murder me once a month.

Or when I need to unwind.

Like today.

I stab at my slice of Dutch apple from The Gravy Train, my second favorite thing they serve. I moan when the flavor hits my tongue and sink lower into the tub, the hot water already working its magic on the tension that’s beginning to feel permanent.

Maya and Caroline are right—I do work too much. Just this week, I put in over fifty hours at Making Waves. It’s not the first time I’ve done it this month either. Overloading on work is a flaw of mine, a tactic I use to avoid everything else I don’t want to think about.

This is why I’ve officially reached a new low by eating pie and drinking whiskey in the damn tub at two in the afternoon.

I’m overworked and undersexed.

I could have fixed that sex thing last night with my date, but there was no way I was letting him take me home.

Cheddar. Ugh. Such a laughable name. I shouldn’t have tried to prove Maya wrong and go on the date to spite her because he was awful —and not just because of his (lack of) taste in pie.

I’ve never met a more boring person in my entire life.

I thought maybe he’d have a good story about his obtuse nickname, but it was nothing more than him refusing to eat any kind of cheese other than cheddar and his college roommates picking on him for it.

That was the grand story he took fifteen minutes to tell me as we waited for our table because he made the reservation for later than we agreed upon. His reasoning was, “You know…because women.”

His misogynistic remark coupled with him being more boring than watching paint dry let me know right then I wasn’t going on another date with him.

That was when I texted my mom to get me out of there.

I barely even waited until we were at a table—the one he spilled his frozen drink all over.

Ugh.

Okay, so maybe I do make rash decisions to ditch on these dates, but at least I am aware of what I will and won’t settle for.

I take another bite of apple pie, trying to make myself feel better about my inability to find a normal guy to date.

Maybe I should just give up.

I have good friends. My business is thriving. I’m happy with where I’m at most days. There’s no reason to rock the boat…but man do I wish someone would rock my boat.

“Stop whining about your pitiful sex life, River. You’re supposed to be relaxing, not bitching and moaning. This is a time of calm, of peace. Chill. Re?—”

“STILL LIKE THAT OLD TIME ROCK ’N’ ROLL!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus!”

I jump, and my precious slice of apple pie goes flying.

And lands right in my bathwater.

“Are you serious?!” I scream, glaring at the wall that’s vibrating from the awful music thumping in the apartment next to mine.

Dean…again!

This is the same thing that happened last time I took a bath—he ruined it like he ruins everything else good in my life. I bet I’d be ten times more relaxed if I didn’t have him as a neighbor.

I’m over it. Completely fed up.

I shove up out of the tub, water sloshing over the sides, but I don’t care.

I’m pissed.

Furious.

Abso-fucking-lutely done with Dean Evans.