Wound Up(31)

                “Uh-huh. And why is that?”

                “I have more to lose. If I’d known there was a potential ethical conflict, I would have kept my distance from her.”

                Darcy arched her brow. “You sound a bit superior there, son.”

                “Look. She’s leaving after the eighty-hour investment. This is my job. I’ll have to clean up whatever mess this causes, and that’s if they even let me. I don’t need the complication.”

                One corner of her mouth lifted. “I would wager she doesn’t, either, Justin.”

                “You know how important this job is to me,” he muttered.

                “What I know is that you’re sounding pretty self-righteous when you may well have done her as much harm as she’s done you. Supper’s on in an hour.” When he started to respond, she held up a hand and walked out of the room.

                As far as parting shots went, it was pretty damned impressive—she had managed to hit a bull’s-eye over her shoulder.

                She hadn’t even broken her stride when she pulled the trigger.

                * * *

                GRACE SAT IN the little crepe diner for the second time in twenty-four hours as she waited for Gretchen to pick her up. Taking the bus home had been an option, of course, but Grace had to return Gretch’s cell phone before Gretch left for her new job in San Francisco anyway. But the moment she’d heard Gretchen’s voice, she’d wanted the solid security of friendship, the only kind of relationship she’d learned to trust in and count on. Half the story had been out before Gretchen stopped her with a firm, “I’m on my way.”

                Grace dreaded the inquisition she knew she’d face when Gretchen arrived. There were things she didn’t want to answer and things she couldn’t. For example, Justin had heated her blood with a one-two punch of lust only to deliver a hard knockout that had left her cold. How was she supposed to explain that?

                “See, it’s complicated,” she muttered to herself. “We had wild and crazy sex that blew my mind, but then this morning he became a self-righteous prick and blamed me for ruining his life.”

                Nope. She was going to leave that little nugget of information alone. There would be questions about his skill, about the whys and the hows of every action, and she couldn’t relive it. No, that wasn’t true. She couldn’t stop reliving it. It was that she didn’t want to share it. That, that was the sticking point in the retelling because she didn’t want Gretchen to bad-mouth Justin in defense of Grace’s own actions. It wouldn’t be malicious. Gretchen would only speak out as a matter of loyalty. She understood that. But still...

                Absently picking at a rough cuticle, Grace could admit to herself that she didn’t want to be alone right now. She wanted to be reassured that someone had her back, and her friends were her surrogate family, the support she’d never had. They wouldn’t let her suffer alone.

                A gust of salt-laden wind whipped through the restaurant door. The breeze off the Puget Sound was cold this morning. Grace shivered.

                Gretchen walked in followed by Lynn and Meg.

                Gretch slid into an empty chair and flipped her keys around her pointer finger. Spin, catch. Spin, catch.

                Meg and Lynn sat as well, each hanging their handbags on the backs of their chairs and covering them with their jackets.

                Grace stared at her hands, picking at her cuticles. “Wow. The whole cavalry.”