A Lie for a Lie (All In 1)

I’m relieved when the tour is finally over, because my mouth is dry and my stomach is in knots. I’d given up long ago on ever seeing RJ again or contacting him, and now here he is. Over the past year I called every alpaca farm in New York, but none of them linked to RJ, and without a last name it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I can’t believe we didn’t even exchange last names. I hoped I might hear from him once he found the note I left for him at the cabin with my contact information; instead there was nothing but painful silence. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hold my breath every time my phone rang the entire summer.

I stand there, wringing my hands, as he weaves through parents and avoids stepping on small children.

His eyes move over my face in a familiar, searching way. I’m sure I look like hell today. I was up several times last night and had trouble falling back to sleep, so no amount of concealer could cover up my dark circles this morning. Also, my entire uniform is beige, and the pants have pleats in the front, so neither the style nor the color is flattering on me—or anyone else, for that matter.

He stops just inside my personal-space bubble, which makes my palms sweatier than usual. I’m forced to tip my head back so I can look at his face. His perfect, gorgeous face. He looks exactly like I remember, except his hair is shorter, as if he’s had it cut recently.

“God, I thought I’d never see you again, and here you are,” he says in that deep baritone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I just stare at him, incapable of ungluing my tongue from the roof of my mouth. He’s so beautiful and real. At least I think he’s real. I hope so—otherwise I need to see a doctor.

His brow furrows, eyes swimming with an emotion I can’t quite identify. Hurt, maybe? Or worry? “Lainey? Do you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, RJ,” I whisper.

Relief softens his expression. “It’s so good to see you.” He wraps his thick, strong arms around me and pulls me against him.

I’m shocked stupid by the contact and the sudden wave of calm that accompanies his touch. I inhale deeply, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne and the scent that is uniquely him. Emotions slam into me: sadness, longing, relief, and fear. His hold on me tightens enough that I let out a small squeak.

He loosens his grip and takes a cautious step back. “I’m sorry. It’s just so good to see you after all this time.” He runs his palms down my arms and takes my hands in his, squeezing gently. “You look amazing.”

I glance down at my outfit, wondering if maybe he needs glasses or something.

He doesn’t let go of my hands. “How are you? What are you doing in Chicago? I mean—obviously you’re working, but what brought you here? Are you staying?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” I reply, like an idiot, because that’s what I’ve become, apparently. I don’t know how to handle him being here. That brief wave of calm has disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and in its wake is bewilderment.

He laughs a little. “You’re right. It is a lot of questions. Let’s start with one. How are you?”

“I’m . . .” Exhausted, elated, terrified, confused. “Good.”

“Good. You look good.” His thumb smooths back and forth over my knuckles. It feels nice, but it’s also distracting. “What brought you to Chicago?”

It’s closer to New York than Washington and a way to escape my parents’ overprotectiveness. And a way to prove to them and myself that I could do this on my own. But I don’t say any of that. “I was offered a job, and I thought I should take it.”

“That’s amazing, Lainey. Does that mean you finished your master’s?”

“It does. Yes.”

He hugs me again, not as vigorously or as long as the first time, but it still steals my breath and threatens what little composure I have. “Does that mean you’re here permanently?”

“I have a temporary contract, but I should be here for another six months or so, as long as I don’t mess it up. You know, scarring small children for life with fornicating dolphins and such.”

“It’s not like you can control those horny bastards. They can’t help that they like to get it on for fun, right? And clearly they don’t mind an audience.” He smiles, but the awkwardness of this whole reunion makes it seem uncertain.

“Clearly not.” I shift my gaze away from his, unable to erase the memories of RJ and me getting it on pretty much anywhere we could, anytime we wanted, during those brief weeks in Alaska. “What about you? What brings you to Chicago? Are you visiting friends?”