Page 31

Eve

A Hobby Carried on the Shoulders of Good Luck

After the best shower of my entire life, I walked back toward Harper, toweling my hair dry and sipping from a giant Styrofoam cup of coffee. I’d parked the car near the pool, and that was where she was now, curled up on a lounge chair, surrounded by a pile of Monty’s notes.

Kids splashed nearby. Families were already grilling by their trailers. Dogs barked, music blared. The RV park was slowly filling with the sounds and smells of vacation, but I only had eyes for Harper, biting the tip of her thumb as she read, completely unaware that I was watching her.

She wore a peachy-orange sundress that rode high on her soft thighs, thighs that still sported a few of the bite marks I’d given her last night.

Her wet hair was piled high in its usual bun, with just one pencil jammed through this time.

Her cheeks were pink from the shower, face scrubbed of makeup, and her freckles stood out dark against the bridge of her nose.

The tops of her shoulders sported a light sunburn, the straps of her dress already slipping down.

I could have devoured her on the spot.

Harper glanced up as I approached and immediately caught me staring. A wide, toothy grin spread across her face, as if she couldn’t contain herself.

I couldn’t contain myself. And needed to. Badly.

It was only gonna hurt worse in the end if I didn’t.

“This is an amazing resource, Eve,” she said, pointing to the stack of notes with the journal she was flipping through. “I can’t believe Monty just left this with you.”

I crouched on the end of the chair, squeezing the last bit of excess moisture from my curls. Harper reached forward and finger-combed them into what felt like some semblance of order.

“After she and Ruby didn’t find the diamonds, she got even more paranoid, asked me to hold onto all of her treasure hunting notes, maps, and research,” I said, leaning into Harper’s touch.

“It’s not all of it. She’s got a storage unit nearby with more of her detailed research, but these are some of the more important pieces to her. ”

“Paranoid about what?” Harper asked.

“Someone breaking in and stealing all of her hard work,” I explained. “Not that my place is that much safer, but I couldn’t talk her out of it.”

Harper chewed on her lower lip, her brow creased. “Did you ever read this passage in her journal? If I’m doing the math right, this was, like…two weeks before they uncovered La Venganza ? And she’s talking about your dad here, right?”

She handed it over to me, and seeing Monty’s blocky handwriting sent a spike of pain through my chest.

I lie awake at night and worry about what clues I missed. Worry if Ruby’s mad at me, for trying so hard at something I’m obviously not very good at. It’s not like this is a job or a science. It’s nothing but a hobby carried on the shoulders of good fucking luck.

It feels like we’re never gonna be lucky. Feels like every naysayer is gonna be right in the end. I hate feeling this way, hate knowing some people might have been right about me.

It’s not like my family ever thought I’d amount to anything special.

But every night Ruby reminds me to have hope, which she says is something that takes practice and discipline, like a runner, training for a race.

I’m trying, is what I want to say. I really am.

It’s just that hope doesn’t feel like that to me.

It never has. Feels like something I’ve gotta trap in the woods and hunt.

Or crawl through the desert on my hands and knees to find.

But I’ll do it. For this ship, for Ruby, for the thrill of this damn chase.

If I have to dig hope out of the ground with my bare hands, I’ll do it.

I’ll dig and dig until my nails are bloody and my body aches.

I’ll yank hope out by the root and swallow it whole. Claim it as mine.

I cleared my throat, absolutely stunned. “You’re right, this was…thirteen days before they discovered it.”

“They were that close to victory, and she still wanted to give up,” Harper said. “I thought it was interesting, how despondent she sounded. And how desperately she fought to keep going.”

My eyes rose to hers. “ Yank hope out by the root .”

Harper inclined her head. “Yank it out, indeed.”

“I…well.” I paused, clearing my throat. “Monty’s always seemed so confident.

So self-assured. She used to come back to Princeton just to check in on me and pick fights with my parents at the dinner table.

My dad made plenty of insulting comments about her, but they never seemed to stick.

She’d just laugh them off and keep smoking her cigar. ”

I was zeroed in on that middle paragraph. It’s not like my family ever thought I’d amount to anything special . I’d said the same thing to her, hundreds of times. She’d never gotten along with my parents. Never pretended to harbor friendly feelings toward them.

But I didn’t know it was secretly worse than that. Didn’t know how many of my inner jagged edges were so similar to hers.

Feels like something I’ve gotta trap in the woods and hunt .

“The worst thing is,” I said, swallowing hard. “The worst thing is…she already felt this way, and then the media harassment started. Followed by her failing to find the Blackburn Diamonds. If she thought hope was that hard to grasp onto then…”

We sat in silence for a moment. Harper reached forward, holding my hand. “She’ll come back to you, Eve. She will.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, especially as an old bitterness crowded the back of my throat. Your industry did this , I almost said. She was different before . And it must have shown on my face, because I caught a guilty flicker in her gaze when our eyes met.

An alert went off on her phone. She paled slightly at whatever she saw there, then slipped it back into her bag. Seeing my quizzical look, she said, “It was a reminder of my flight back home. The office sent the tickets through.”

“When is that again?” I asked, as nonchalantly as I was able.

“Sunday. Four more days.” Her expression was relaxed, but there was a tension in the way she held her shoulders.

“It’s not really a lot of time to find diamonds that have been missing for more than a century, then write a story about them that’s so compelling my boss promotes me instead of firing me. I’ll take what I can get, though.”

My stomach pitched to the ground, and now I felt guilty. I wasn’t the boss who’d given her the directive to find Monty. But I might end up being the reason she got fired.

“That’s…fast,” I said, suddenly nervous. “And, listen, we didn’t get a chance to talk about it, what with being attacked by a cougar, but what I said earlier, about not wanting you to leave—”

Harper’s eyes widened slightly. Then she dropped her eyes to the ground, tugging on her earlobe.

Two things I’d done when I’d been on the other side of the conversation I had with every person who’d ever wanted to get closer to me than I ever allowed.

And even though I’d just told Harper that I was working on being more honest, I shrugged and said, “It came out more seriously than I intended it to. I know you’re leaving, and I’m… I’m fine with it.”

I thought she looked briefly—brutally—disappointed for half a second. But that disappeared from her face, replaced with a perky brightness I wasn’t sure was entirely real. “No shame, just sensation, right? That’s how you enjoy the chaos? Keeping things casual?”

She was throwing my own words back at me, the ones I’d shared when we’d fallen into that mine.

“You got it,” I managed. “It’s how I do things out here.”

“I’ve never, ever done anything like that,” she admitted. “Never done anything like we did…” She looked around, made sure we had privacy. “Like we did last night. Out in the open, with no outcome in mind, just pleasure for pleasure’s sake.”

“Did you like it?”

She sent me a bashful look. “You know I did.”

I hid a smile behind my hand, an image from last night burning through my brain: Harper on her back, naked and disheveled. Begging.

“You were insatiable, cowgirl,” I said with a wink.

Harper flicked an eyebrow up. “Yes, well, in a surprise to no one, it turns out I can handle you after all.”

No shame, just sensation . I took my own advice and stole a kiss, nipping her lower lip with my teeth. “What am I gonna do with you, Harper Hendrix?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” she murmured. “Keep having fun with me is my first recommendation. Casual, right? I’ve got ninety-six hours left.”

My breath caught in my throat. A week ago, I would have happily signed on for mind-blowing, no-strings-attached sex with the gorgeous woman in front of me—before sending her back home to her stress and deadlines with a satisfied smile on her face.

Now I felt hollow at the thought.

What the hell was happening to me?

“Sounds like a perfect idea,” I managed, lying again.

She offered up a warm smile, reaching to brush back a curl from my forehead.

“There wasn’t a lot of room in my life to…

to fuck around and make mistakes. I had too much responsibility, way too young, and I haven’t shaken the habit of having complete control over everything.

But maybe you’re right, Eve. Maybe I do need to go out and watch the sunrise again.

Remember all the things my mom loved to do when she was lucky enough to be here. ”

“Like what?” I asked—hurting for her, enchanted by her.

She pinned me in place with a gaze that seared. “Appreciate what’s right in front of me and enjoy every bit of it while I can. As many times as she’ll have me.”

I rubbed at my flushed cheeks, raked both hands through my hair, suddenly antsy with an emotion I couldn’t name.

“Are you okay, Eve?” she asked—teasing.

I leaned in again, this time aiming for that spot beneath her ear that drove her wild. Dragged my nose along the shell of her ear, breathing in the smell of flowery shampoo and her clean skin. “I’m just appreciating what’s right in front of me.”

When I pulled back, she was slightly out of breath, fussing with her messy bun with trembling fingers. “Not to be all ‘I’m just a nerdy reporter who lives for research,’ but I do have some ideas for our next steps, if you’re open to them.”

I grinned in response. “We should focus, you’re right. What were you thinking?”

“I’ve been piecing through some of Monty’s notes, and I think we need a new angle. So far, the only bit of information we have, that your aunt didn’t, was what Waylon revealed to us about Harry Boyle and his presumed lover, Eugene. It feels safe to assume that we should start there.”

“It does feel important,” I said with a nod. “We’ve also got Waylon’s genealogy report and the Haven’s Bluff Historical Society, which just opened up a small research library next to the general store.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “There’s a library nearby?”

I grinned again, starting to shuffle Monty’s notes back into some semblance of order. “Yes, ma’am, there is. What do you say we head out there and try again?”

Harper pressed Monty’s journal to her chest and smiled. “Let’s try again.”

As she rose to get us more coffee, I took my phone and opened my text chat with Monty, tapping my fingers against the screen. My messages had been read but unanswered. But Priscilla and Adeline still felt tantalizingly close, shimmering just out of reach.

We didn’t just need a new angle. We needed Monty Montana.

Don’t get mad, but I’m searching for the diamonds again , I sent. I know you asked me not to, but the timing felt right, and Jensen’s getting too close. I’m afraid he’ll take what’s rightfully ours.

I sent it, watched the little green bubble sit, unanswered, for another minute.

I’m out here trying to dig up hope with my bare hands and coming up empty , I typed. I really need your help, Monty. I really need some hope.