Rainy Day Friends Read online

  He laughed again. Because yeah. Still wow.

  She went inside without another word after that, shutting and locking the door behind her, and he walked away. Probably the smartest thing he’d done all night, but at the moment, it sure didn’t feel like it.

  Chapter 9

  I don’t have a nervous system, I am a nervous system . . .

  The next morning, Lanie staggered into the office. Or tried to. She pushed a pull door and literally walked face-first into it.

  Holden, who happened to be walking past, stopped. “You have to pull.”

  “That was my next plan,” she said and sighed when he opened it for her.

  She went straight to the fridge and whimpered when the light hurt her eyes. Hangover level: she needed sunglasses to look into the fridge. Since she didn’t have any sunglasses, she did an about-face and headed for the coffee pot instead. Someone came in the office behind her, and since her happy parts quivered, she knew it was Mark. Slowly she turned around.

  His lips quirked. The same delicious lips she’d kissed last night. Damn bottle of Jack . . . She’d kissed her boss’s son.

  And she’d liked it.

  “Rough morning?” he murmured in a husky morning voice, looking annoyingly awake and chipper.

  “Not at all,” she lied.

  With a soft laugh, he moved toward her just as Samantha and Sierra came flying into the room.

  “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! We found our hairbrush!” Sam brandished it around, nearly taking out one of his eyes. “Sierra has the hair ties!”

  “Inside voice, baby.” But he took the brush and the hair ties and set them on the counter. Then he scooped up Sierra and plunked her down on the counter as well, after which he proceeded to brush and then braid her hair with a practiced ease. He then executed a wash-and-repeat for Samantha, gave them both hugs and kisses that elicited happy squeals, and sent them on their way.

  Lanie’s dad had been distant at best. Kyle had never wanted kids. So watching the big, strong, alpha Mark Capriotti not only be the opposite of distant but also be a true, hands-on dad was almost unbearably attractive.

  When he caught her staring, he smiled. “Need your hair braided too?”

  Yes, her mouth nearly said, oh please, yes, put your fingers through my hair . . . “I’m good, thanks.”

  He poured coffee into a travel mug that said TIRED OF WAKING UP AND NOT BEING ON AN ISLAND, saluted her with it, and then walked out.

  Which was just how she wanted things between them. Totally and completely. So why she let out a disappointed breath was beyond her.

  At lunch that day, Uncle Jack walked by her. “Hey, what kind of bees make milk?” he asked.

  “No idea.”

  “Jack!” Cora called out warningly from the far end of the other table.

  “Boo-bees,” he whispered, and with a very pleased-with-himself grin, he looked down at her salad-only plate. “That’s just sad.”

  “I like salad.” Well, she liked salad more than, say, liver and onions, but she actually much preferred lasagna. She was doing her best not to look at it.

  Jack shook his head. “There’s no accounting for taste. It’s not your fault, though—you’re not Italian.”

  “Jack.” Cora again.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “That woman’s got eyes in the back of her head.”

  “Heard that too!”

  Jack sighed and looked over at Mia, who was in black boots, black yoga pants, and a long black sweater, hood up. “Whose funeral is it?”

  Mia looked up from her phone and peered around at the crowd. “Haven’t decided yet.”

  Jack nodded at her phone. “Texting wasn’t always easy, you know. In my day, you had to work for it. You had to want it. You need an X? You’d better hit that seven button four times.”

  Lanie laughed, and he slid her a sly smile. “Did I tell you the one about the brothel? What does a sign on an out-of-business brothel say?” He beamed. “Beat it, we’re closed.”

  “Jack, so help me God,” Cora yelled, and with a wink, Jack stole a cupcake and vanished.

  Lanie moved to a bucket filled with ice and drinks near the patio door and grabbed a bottle of water.

  River stood nearby, apparently frozen. “Not again,” she whispered.

  Lanie realized she was nearly green. “Hey, are you—”

  River slapped a hand to her mouth, whirled, and ran.

  Nope. She wasn’t okay. Lanie looked around to see if anyone else had seen River, say, maybe Cora, who was good at this whole taking-care-of-people thing.

  But no one had noticed. Dammit. With a sigh, she found River getting sick in the employee bathroom.

  This poor bathroom saw a lot.

  “Go away,” River gasped, hanging her head over the toilet.

  Yeah, if only she could. With another sigh, Lanie moved forward and took over holding River’s hair back. And then she closed her eyes while River wretched and gagged, and tried to picture herself on a warm, deserted island with puppies. And A/C.

  Finally River got herself together and Lanie went to the sink. She wet some paper towels and brought them back to River.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, clearly mortified.

  “You’re still so sick. I thought pregnant women only threw up in the first trimester.”

  River shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Lanie felt for her. She’d been here two weeks and hadn’t had anyone come visit. River was every bit as alone in the world as Lanie felt, or so it seemed. “How often does this happen?”

  River hesitated. “Every day.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” Lanie asked. “Or talk to Cora about cutting back your hours?”

  “No!” she said, looking panicked. “I’m fine, really. You can’t tell anyone, okay? Cora might ask me to quit and I need this job.”

  “But—”

  “Please,” she said and turned beseeching eyes on Lanie, looking wan and anxious. “I can handle this job, I promise, I just . . . I just need a minute alone.”

  “I know you can handle the job,” Lanie said. “I’ve seen you do it. You do a good job, and I’m glad you’re here. But I can’t just leave you alone.”

  “Why not? It’s easy, lots of people have done it. You just walk out the door.”

  Lanie dropped her head to her chest and took a deep breath. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to get sucked in, dammit. But at every turn, it was happening anyway. First the twins. Uncle Jack. Mia and Alyssa. And now River.

  But no one else, she assured herself. Absolutely no one else, including Mark, no matter how sexy and talented his mouth was.

  River shuddered and Lanie held on to her, the only person she knew who might actually be standing on a bigger proverbial cliff than herself. It wasn’t often she met someone just as screwed up as she, maybe even more so. It was a nice change, she had to admit.

  And there was something else. She liked this girl. And she didn’t take that lightly—it had never been in her nature to be open enough to draw people in. But there was something about River that made her feel protective, as if they were close friends. “I can’t walk away, River. You’re pregnant, you’re sick, and I know, believe me, I know how much you probably want to stand on your own right now, but you can’t. You need a minute, you need someone at your back, and like it or not, that’s going to be me.”

  River looked stunned at this. But she didn’t argue, she just nodded. “You said you’re glad I’m here. Why?”

  Lanie sighed. “Because I hate pitching in at the front desk. It’s torture for me. I’m not good with people like you are. Everyone has questions, so many questions, and I never know the answers. You just effortlessly figure it all out.”

  Again River looked surprised. “Everything you do seems effortless.”

  “It’s an act. Trust me, I’m a fish out of water here.”

  “Me too,” River breathed softly. “So we have stuff in common.”

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