Page 28 of Tempting Frey
“Is something the matter, Frey? You’ve been acting weird.”
Shit.
“I’m…” I couldn’t come up with anything believable to say. I’d never had a huge need to pour my heart out to anyone, but Chickie had been my closest friend for nearly two decades. When I struggled with a problem, he was the one I would tell. He’d been by my side through the election campaign and the rough first year as mayor.
Chickie put his hands on his hips, and his face scrunched up into a sour grimace.
“Are you depressed or something?”
I let out a strangled laugh. “What? How did you come up with that?”
His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “You’re over forty and unmated.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I muttered.
“Look, I get that being the third wheel to other people’s domestic bliss isn’t ideal, but do it for Phil, okay? He’s worried about you, and honestly, so am I. Come on Saturday. We’ll have a few beers, and I promise I won’t bug you about how my kid is doing at work.”
I snorted. “Like you would dare in front of him.”
Chickie’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t. He’s just like Phil. But he won’t be there on Saturday.”
“No?”
“Oliver moved out. We’re empty nesters now.”
I blinked. That meant I could come for dinner. “Oh. He took the apartment above the post office?”
“Sure did. Monty and Jordy helped him move. He barely stayed a week at home, and now he’s gone again. At least it’s a ten-minute walk and not a whole day’s drive. He’s a proper adult. A job, his own place.”
“Good for him.”
“One of these days, there’ll be some cocky asshole on my doorstep, telling me he wants to marry my little Ollie.” Chickie sneered with disgust. “As if anyone would ever be good enough for him.”
My stomach clenched. I must have been hungry.
“As if you were ever good enough for Phil,” I said.
Chickie laughed and slapped my shoulder. “True.”
“Tell Phil I’ll come on Saturday.”
8
OLIVER
Had I been drowning myself in work to stop obsessing about Frey? Absolutely. What else was I supposed to do?
My libido was bouncing all over the place, and having to keep one more secret from him didn’t help. Calvin called to say Laurel Riley had concerts back-to-back in Austria, Switzerland, and Italy and was unavailable until late Monday evening. Now it was me avoiding Frey because dodging the talk about wicked developers invading Beauville felt a bit too close to lying.
And so, I threw all my time and energy into starting a high school program in Beauville. I needed three key things: a place, funding, and staff. The rest would sort itself out.
Since the learning would be hybrid, there was no need for multiple full-time licensed teachers, but having one would be great. At the same time, I couldn’t officially recruit until the program was sure to start. I hoped to avoid the catch-22 by finding someone local with even the slightest interest in pedagogy. Or a librarian, because a combined space for learning and a library would be a dream come true.
I messaged my Beauville friends, asking if they knew of someone who’d fit the profile. Nobody did, but they all promised to ask around. Sitting in bed at eleven o’clock at night, I compiled the budget and time plan.
Frey was going to think I was a workaholic.
I must have fallen asleep with the laptop on my stomach. I woke up curled by the headboard, the edge of the computer digging into my temple. I tapped on the trackpad and winced at the glaring white digits, which told me it was nearly one. I felt like shit. Aside from the crick in my neck, I was hot all over, sweaty, and my lower back hurt.
