Page 37 of Better Luck Next Time

The words were a bit muffled, but someone had left a window open, and the screen didn’t block noise.

He exited as discreetly and quietly as he could, Sprite in hand, feeling the weight of knowing one more thing he probably wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. For someone who wasn’t much good at keeping secrets, Finn had a hell of a knack for collecting them.

Jack Durand clearly had some sort of secret girlfriend he’d left back home. One he wasn’t, for whatever reason, telling anyone about. And he’d also said he didn’t trust someone, possibly someone here in Asheville.

But he needn’t have worried about the compulsion to tell what he’d heard, because moments after he handed over the Sprite to Adalia, he heard a shriek from the neighbor’s yard.

Jack called back to them, “Jezebel just leapt over the fence!”

“Look at that,” Adalia commented after gulping down half the can of Sprite. “We didn’t need the sardines after all.”

She got up, looking a lot sturdier than she had any right to given the way she’d been mainlining tequila earlier, and started to circle around the house. Finn, River, and Dottie exchanged looks before they followed her.

They all knew what she was liable to find back there, but they had no idea how she’d react to it.

If only Finn had thought to ask Lola more questions, like whether he’d drawn the death card because Adalia was about to kill him for orchestrating this.

Chapter Thirteen

Adalia had no idea what Dottie put in the nasty concoction, but the fuzziness in her head was clearing, and the events of the afternoon were rushing back in vivid and not-so-vivid detail.

The tarot reading—both of them—ordering her liquid lunch (had she eatenanyof her tacos?), and then telling Finn about Alan. The last recollection brought a fresh round of shame. She’d decided to tell him, in the end, hence all of the tequila shots disguised with lime juice and sugar, but now…

What did he think of her?

She wasn’t surewhyshe’d wanted him to know. She hadn’t told anyone other than Georgie, and River by default. Lee was hardly speaking to her, mostly because he knew she was holding something back. Her explanation for her last-minute relocation—that she’d wanted to escape the Alan situation and,hey, we have a brewery!—hadn’t convinced him. Maybe she should have been honest, forthright, but Lee was too much like their father. He wouldn’t understand, and if he found out, he’d almost certainly tell Dear Old Dad.

Nope. Not opening herself up to that.

But why had she wanted to tell Finn? Because Lola had said they were tied together?

Adalia had never been a big believer in destiny. She refused to believe some unseen force was controlling her life. Because if it existed, it was a real dick for taking her mom from her. No, she’d opened up to Finn for a different reason. It was weird they’d had the same cards, but freaky coincidences happened every day.

She’d told him because of what he’d witnessed. He’d watched her wrench something out of her soul and attach it to a canvas, and sure, it had been an abstract, and most people would have just seen a bunch of red and yellow and blue paint on a white canvas, but the look in his eyes, the admiration and the empathy, proved that he hadn’t been flattering her. Finn had seen so much more. Then she’d ripped it apart in front of him, and he’d been upset not because she’d destroyed something of monetary value, but because he knew she’d destroyed a piece of herself. The very fact he was horrified by that meant more than every word of praise Alan had ever heaped on her.

And that scared the crap out of her. If Alan could rip out her heart and bring her to the edge of despair, how much worse could Finn hurt her?

There was no doubt in her mind that Finn was interested in her. If the hand-holding hadn’t clued her in, then there was the tender way he’d cradled her when he carried her to River’s car, something she’d noticed even through her drunken haze. But Finn was a serial dater, and Adalia had no desire to become another notch on his bedpost.

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the others were following her into the back yard, which seemed odd. Then again, maybe not. Everyone with the exception of Dottie was terrified of Jezebel. Apparently Adalia was their human shield. Or maybe they were hanging back in case she yakked Dottie’s awful drink.

Jack was sitting on the bench, and Jezebel was beside him, rubbing her head against his chest.

“What the hell?” River said in surprise.

Jack lifted his hand to rub the cat’s head, and Finn cried out, “I wouldn’t do that!”

But Jack shot the group a confused look as he started to stroke her. “I don’t understand why you all keep saying she’s mean.”

“Did you put catnip in those sardines?” Finn asked. “Or Xanax?”

“No, dear,” Dottie said, clasping her hands in front of her as her face lit up with glee. “Adalia’s right. He reallyisa cat whisperer.” She said it with as much excitement as if she’d discovered he were a wizard. Although, to be fair, it would take a wizard to turn Jezebel into a normal cat.

Taking a tentative step toward the bench, Adalia reached out to pet Jezebel, but the cat arched her back and hissed, taking a swat at her. She pulled back just in time to keep from getting mauled.

“So we’ve now established that Jack belongs to Jezebel,” she said, taking a step back, which was when she noticed everyone was watching her. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned River’s and Dottie’s faces before landing on Finn’s. The man couldn’t keep a secret to save his soul, and the fact that he was keeping one now was written all over his face.

“What are you all hiding?” she asked, propping a hand on her hip.

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