“You didn’t have to,” Lena says with a shrug.
I don’t explain at first, mostly because I’m deciding whether diving headfirst into traffic would be more painful than getting grilled by these two.
But I came here for a reason, and if there’s anyone in the world who might make me feel less like I’m spiraling into oblivion over a woman, it’s these two.
“Alright.” I drag a hand down my face. “If I murdered someone, you’d both help me bury the body, right?”
Lena doesn’t even blink. “Would we get to pick the location?”
“I’m thinking bogland,” Wes adds without missing a beat.
“Well, no one’s dead,” I say, kicking my heel against the step, “but I’m in serious trouble.”
Lena leans forward. “What happened?”
Fuck it. These two are in. I could confess to arson, tax fraud, and harboring a fugitive, and Wes would grunt, hand me a shovel, while Lena baked a pie to throw the cops off the scent.
“Said woman is driving me insane,” I finally say out loud.
Lena cocks her head like she didn’t hear me right. “I’m sorry. Back up. This is really about a woman? You?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Oh, absolutely not. You never even talk about women. Now you’re all flustered and sweaty. It’s adorable.”
I scowl. “Don’t say adorable.”
“It’s okay. Your hormones are safe here.”
“She’s my architect.”
“For the new HQ?” Wes asks.
I nod.
He gives a casual shrug. “Yeah, I know. Nathan told me.”
Of course he did.
“She’s your architect,” Lena pipes up, getting back on topic. “So what? I was the nanny.”
Wes winks at her.
Jesus. I came here to be talked out of this, not to be encouraged.
“I don’t know how to handle her,” I admit, dragging my hand through my hair.
“So,” Wes says slowly, “you met your match and have absolutely no idea what to do about it.”
“Correct.”
Lena plucks some blades of grass and fidgets with them. “Did you meet at work?”
I glance toward the yard where Rosie’s now lying on her stomach in the grass, giggling while the dog licks her toes.
“We met at a…” I pause. “…picnic club.”
Lena frowns. “What the hell is a picnic club?”