The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (mind reading books .txt) 📗

of his beer and hopped off the boulder. “I know my cousin; she’s been one of my best friends since we were in diapers. She’s got a hell of a heart that she’s learned not to trust, thanks to those assholes that took more than they gave. You truly love her? Prove it to her.”

“She’ll run away scared, and she sure as hell won’t want to socialize anywhere near me and we’re back to the Freya or Zane issue again.”

“She might. Or, as I’ve been telling her all along, she’ll see that you’re not Randy or Vince or Giovanni. That you’ll always have her back. You’ve always had mine, and we’re not even lovers.”

“Dude. This is getting weird.”

“Come on, you don’t think I’m pretty enough?”

Zane rolled his eyes, chugging the last of his beer that he’d forgotten about before stuffing the empty bottles in the backpack. Heading down the slope, he tried to let it sink in. Asher was so fucking happy these days, brighter than Zane had ever seen, and not just because he was a civilian. Asher was the last guy to have talked like such a romantic sap, before meeting Sophie. He might actually know what he was talking about.

But Freya had been burned before. Zane couldn’t guarantee following through on any promises he wished he could make. The annulment hearing was in eleven days. After that, they could see where things led. Without pressure, simply two people that liked each other.

They’d made it almost two weeks. No kissing. No groping. Not even handholding.

This wasn’t so hard.

Okay, so they’d hardly even been in the same room with each other. But her imagination, conscious and not, planned the many, many activities they could try out after this stupid annulment went through.

Groaning, Freya slammed the couch pillow against her face. It was even worse for the hour or two each day she’d gone to Zane’s to work on his computer. Not that he hung around; a few polite words exchanged, awkward shifting on his feet as he came up with some excuse to avoid her.

Well, that’s what it felt like anyway. But sharing the same air, even for a few minutes, being able to catch a hint of the fresh grapefruit and sandalwood soap she’d bought him, made her want to tear his clothes off… utter torture. Worse, seeing that he was as miserable as she was? It was a crappy situation.

Sophie dropped onto the recliner opposite and shifted the lever until her feet were elevated. “Maybe Pippa’s right.”

Moving the pillow, not caring that her hair had succumb to the static electricity of dry summer air and a fuzzy pillow, she muttered, “Hey, she’s my neurotic dreamer. You’re my realist. Don’t mess with my flow.”

“Sorry. When do his parents get in?”

Freya nodded to the front door where her suitcase waited. “Three hours. They’d better be worth it.”

“They won’t be. But if Zane needs this to feel some sort of acceptance, or to let them know he’s happy without them…”

“Shit, I didn’t even think of that.” Freya sprawled her limbs in a floppy star position as she sunk deeper into the sofa. “I have no filter. What if I embarrass him?”

“Go with your gut. Something tells me he needs someone to support him and only him, the consequences be damned. And you’re good at that.”

“You’re not wrong.” She sighed and sucked her cheeks between her teeth. For this to be believable, she needed to get over there soon and get settled like she actually lived there.

Sophie sat quietly while Freya scowled at the tip of her nose. The sound of Zane’s truck rumbling down the drive added another level to her torture. He’d probably be cool as a cat right now, at least, on the surface.

With a noisy inhalation filled with meaning, Sophie nodded to the kitchen that Freya had converted into a mini studio. “On the bright side, you finished all five pieces quicker than they would have expected. Did they get the first one yet?”

She turned her head and looked at the blank canvas, the workspace painfully empty now that she’d sent off everything she had, plus a few odds and ends to some of the other galleries she’d built a relationship with. Her stomach churned with acid-soaked gravel grinding in her belly. It was always nerve-wracking, putting herself out there. This time… she was upending the style she’d built her brand on. “It should arrive tomorrow, the rest in about a week. I will have exceeded the deadline by a long shot, so I can always work my ass off at creating and sending off more of my traditional style they requested.” If they wanted anything more from her after seeing the edgier style she hadn’t even known herself capable of. Driven by the thrill of something new radiating from her brush, she’d powered through and couldn’t wait to make more.

“Those pieces were incredible. If they don’t want them, there are hundreds of others that will.”

Dragging her ass off the couch, she shrugged. “I’ll know soon enough.”

Taking her water glass to the kitchen, she drained the last of it and set it in the sink with the lunch dishes. Freya adjusted the waist of her jeans, ensured her top was feminine, somewhere between sweet and edgy, and worked her tongue over her teeth to ensure no lunch greens remained. Okay. No problem.

Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t like they were her real in-laws. Or, well, they were real… just not permanent. Ouch, that was almost worse.

She swung her backpack and heaved her suitcase and glared at the door, wishing she could hide under the covers like she had when she was a little girl and tried to skip school. Not that the strategy had ever worked.

From her burrow on the recliner, Sophie laughed, “I