Page 71 of Sweet Escape

But I can’t hide the disappointment of learning she has other plans.

I was lying in bed last night, my fist between my legs, stroking to the memory of that night at the Firehouse. When I’d gotten to taste thesweetness between her thighs. And as I’d come into my palm, I thought ... What the hell am I doing?

Vivian and I were pretty clear that we were both open to sporadic fun, and while I hadn’t wanted to push it with the drama from her ex coming to town, I also had a feeling that she’d be down if I reached out.

Which is why her response is so surprising.

Sighing, I scrub my hand over the hair that’s been growing thicker on my face for the past few days. Then I get back to reviewing my reports, putting Vivian and hooking up tonight completely out of my head.

Eventually, I call it for the day on administrative work and head over to the restaurant to do the winery tour. It wasn’t my intention to continue handling these for Naomi, but when I talked to her about it last weekend, it was clear that her schedule was overflowing.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Murphy says as she collects a handful of menus.

My brow furrows. “Why?”

She shrugs. “I figured you might ... I don’t know ... be at The Standard or something.”

When I still look confused, because I rarely ever have time to go out for drinks anymore, my sister rolls her eyes.

“I know you and Vivian are hooking up, okay? You don’t have to play stupid.”

Then she tucks her menus into her hip and opens the door, calling out forCharlotte, party of four.

I couldn’t be more surprised than if she whacked me over the head with a bat. When did Murphy and Vivian have this conversation? And why am I only now finding out about it?

She takes her sweet time, walking the group of twentysomething women to their table and chatting with them for a few minutes before returning to the host stand.

“I’m not playing stupid. I didn’t ... realize you knew.”

“Next time you want to sneak around, maybe make sure you’re actually being sneaky,” she says, laughing as she pulls out another handful of menus.

“What does that have to do with The Standard, though?” I ask, glancing at my watch, confirming I still have a few minutes before I need to head outside.

Murphy tilts her head and assesses me. “Vivian’s playing the open mic night tonight. Did she not tell you?”

I shake my head.

My sister doesn’t wait around for me to say anything else. Instead, she walks past me and opens the door, calling out the next group.Williams, party of three.

I shouldn’t be surprised that Vivian didn’t tell me she’s performing. We were both clear that our intention was to have fun with each other. For it to be all about sexy time, nothing personal.

So then why am I bothered that she didn’t tell me?

It’s not like we’ve ever really talked about her music before, apart from when she briefly shared that she was inspired by being here in Rosewood. Inspired by me.

Maybe that’s what it is.

Maybe it’s that a part of me thinks I should be invited to observe the creative genius that’s been even somewhat influenced by me, as selfish or self-centered as that might sound. Though I can’t imagine that I’ve really made much of a difference.

Or maybe it’s that Vivian and I share a connection, and I’m surprised she didn’t think to tell me.

“You should go.”

I turn to Murphy, who has returned from seating the Williams party.

“I can’t go. I’m working.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do the tour andthengo. This place is a well-oiled machine.” Then she pats me on the shoulder. “I’ve got this. Don’t stress.”

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