Falling for the Enemy (Private Pleasures 3)

“The friend you had plans with tonight…before…you never mentioned a name.”

“You noticed that, huh?”

“I did. You’re not one to keep secrets or hold back details, so the omission stuck out to me. Is something wrong there?”

Her laugh was a monument to irony. “So much wrong, I can’t even tell you. I can’t tell anybody.”

“Is this person important to you?”

He didn’t hear her response and imagined she’d answered with a head gesture.

“Can I give you some advice—one friend to another?”

“Always.”

“After Melody and I broke up I became kind of an expert at keeping an important relationship under wraps, mostly to avoid judgment from others. I justified the measures I took by telling myself my private life was nobody else’s business, but eventually, I felt like I was living a lie. The lie infected all my relationships, including the one I was trying to protect. It infected my perception of myself, too, in very negative ways. I didn’t respect myself anymore—didn’t respect how I slunk along, hiding, as if my real feelings were something I ought to be ashamed of. You’re an open person, Ginny. Always have been. I’m not saying you should take out a front page ad in the Bluelick Bugle and announce anything, but there’s some grace and dignity in just living your life as you want, with whomever you want, and letting people draw their conclusions—whatever they may be. I’m really glad you called me tonight, but I can tell I was second choice. This other person is who you really wanted to call.”

Okay, this guy made some excellent points, but she had called Roger, and he’d responded to the call—second choice or not. Hearing his worst suspicions confirmed made his fists clench and his stomach tighten.

“It’s complicated,” Virginia responded in a soft voice.

“Is he married?”

Their footsteps resumed.

“No! I would never—”

“He’s got a bunch of kids?”

“No. It’s nothing like that.”

“This doesn’t sound too complicated, if you ask me.”

They rounded the shrub-lined stairway and came into sight. He stood, and the movement immediately snagged their attention. The tall, blond man stepped protectively in front of Virginia and Shaun recognized him as Roger Reynolds. His childhood friend. Her current fuck-buddy.

Surprisingly, Roger recognized him too. “Shaun Buchanan. Man, it’s been years. I heard you were back in town, but…what are you doing here?”

Roger had always been a sharp guy, and he didn’t take long to answer his own question. Then his eyes widened. He turned to Virginia—who was also pretty sharp, and now stood between Roger and him. “Wow. Congratulations. I believe you just became queen of complicated.”

Utter silence followed the observation. Shaun fought against a tide of jealous, senseless rage rising inside him. Maybe Roger smelled it on him, or saw something in his eyes, because he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Ginny, honey, would you do me a favor and get me some water?”

“That’s an excellent idea,” he seconded, never taking his eyes off the blond man. “Go into the house.”

She crossed her arms and eyed them both. “No. And no. Either everybody checks their testosterone at the door and we go into the house together, or I stay right here and explain why you”—she poked Shaun in the chest—“owe Roger an apology.”

It occurred to him, technically, he didn’t have any claim to her. Yes, they’d let a one-night stand evolve into something else, but they’d never talked about exclusivity. He’d never demanded it, she’d never offered, and the fact that because of complacency, or unwillingness on his part to admit what he wanted, he actually stood squarely in the wrong tonight only intensified his frustration. “We had plans tonight. I won’t apologize for expecting you to show.”

“Well, that was impossible, because I got arrested.”

His hands were on her before he knew he’d moved, holding her shoulders, sliding down her arms, seeking assurances she wasn’t hurt. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stepped out of his reach, but not before he caught the wounded look in her over-bright eyes. Feisty, sassy, self-assured Virginia was holding herself together by a thread, and one wrong move from him would snap it. Problem was he didn’t have a right move, because leaving her alone was out of the question.

“A baseless arrest,” Roger said, “in my unbiased legal opinion. She committed a minor traffic violation, and Deputy Crocker dragged her in on everything from DUI to fleeing police. Unfortunately for him, her breathalyzer results made the DUI charge look like a joke and the distance between where she committed the traffic infraction and where she pulled over didn’t support a fleeing charge. Additionally, Ginny thought to activate the video on her phone when Crocker pulled her over, and he neglected to frisk her, so she recorded the entire arrest. I simply pointed out to Sheriff Butler all the flaws in the charges, and suggested the deputy’s true motive was to harass a woman known as an outspoken critic of the department. He wasn’t originally sold on my take of events, but then I played the recording so he could judge for himself. I also invited him to think about how the recording might sound to, say, viewers of the local news.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Butler agreed to forget tonight ever happened if we agreed to forget about the recording. After consulting with my client, we decided it would be best to let both parties put the whole, unfortunate incident behind them. I drove Ginny home, since her car is stuck in impound until tomorrow morning. And that brings us all up to date.” He folded his arms, glanced down at his watch, and then added, “My God, look at the time. We should get going. Let Ginny get some rest.”

“I’m staying.” He didn’t care how hig