She laughs. “Pop-up.”
“Whatever. As long as I can pick you up when you’re done, I don’t give a fuck what it’s called.”
Chapter 17
Vivienne
“Hey, there. Sorry I’m late,” I say, feeling almost giddy as I slide into Lance’s car.
He’s been on my mind all night. I’ve been dying to talk to Savannah about Lance, but she’s still away, and this isn’t the kind of conversation I want to have over text or while she’s distracted with work. When she’s in the research phase of a book, she’s totally consumed.
And I barely know the women I worked with today. The shop was sort of an upscale pet store, and we made idle chit-chat as we unwrapped doggie beds and kitty houses, organic treats and handmade sweaters. It didn’t seem appropriate to say, apropos of nothing, So, there’s this hottie I’m crushing on and I don’t know what to do about him.
I had no idea what to expect when I got into his car tonight. Would Lance slide me onto his lap so we could make out in the front seat? Would he talk dirty to me all the way home and tear my clothes off in the driveway? Would we go skinny-dipping in the moonlight again?
Anything is possible in the Hamptons.
Including, apparently, nothing. When I glance over at Lance, I realize why.
He’s sleeping.
For a moment, I just look at him. The overhead light is still on, illuminating the ruggedness of his features. The sharp jut of his cheekbones, the wiry blond hairs of his brows, the full slash of his mouth over a cleft chin. In sleep, he’s relaxed. Almost boyish. There is no insolent smirk, no brazen stare. My Viking looks so peaceful.
The interior light dims, though the streetlights still provide a waxy, yellowing glow. After only a minute, he stretches, all those muscles rippling and flexing. Yum. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
I was perfectly content admiring the view. “It’s okay. I’m not in any rush.”
Lance’s hand snakes around my neck, pulling me close. And I melt. This. This is what I’ve wanted all night.
Our mouths meet, and for a second, we both inhale at the same time. I angle my head to the side, feeling his tongue sweep along my mouth. Tasting me.
And then his phone ruins it. God, I hate his phone. “Do you need to get that?” I whisper.
Lance’s response is to work his fingers into my hair, tightening his grip on me and deepening our kiss.
But his phone keeps chirping.
Lance releases me, starting the car, and I ease back into my seat. “To be continued.” He pulls onto the street, making it two whole blocks before the phone starts chirping again. The screen on the console flashes with a name. NASH.
“Take it,” I say, feeling Lance’s anxiety rising. “I don’t mind.”
He taps a button on his steering wheel, and a voice comes through the Bluetooth speakers like a crack of thunder on a dry day. “Network Tech just got hit with a ransomware demand. We’re days away from—”
“Slow down. I’m in the car.” Lance glances over at me. “And I’m not alone.”
Nash, or whoever is on the other end of the call, barely pauses. “I need you and your best team in Nebraska asap. I have a plane gassed up and waiting for you at the private airfield in Westhampton and another sitting on the tarmac in San Jose.”
“Have you heard?” Savannah’s question is a screech, the words all blending together as I unlock the front door. It’s nearly midnight. I’m alone, and Lance is on his way to Nebraska.
So much for our night together.
“Heard what?” I’ve been dying to talk to her about everything, but now I’m instantly on alert. We grew up on the same street, our parents are friends. Savannah could be talking about the engagement announcement of a former frenemy she saw on Instagram or my father having a heart attack on the front lawn.
“The house! Seth just sent a group message saying there’s been a scheduling issue, and our house is no longer available. He’s moving us to Quogue.”
“I—”
“He’s refunding our money, but that’s not what’s important. Quogue, Vivienne. That’s not the Hamptons.”
“I—”
“So, have you heard? I didn’t see your name in the message.”
I pause for a second, waiting to see if she’ll interrupt again. I sigh. “Yeah, I heard.” I’ve been so wrapped up in Lance that I’ve barely given any thought to how the share house situation would impact Savannah. Crap. I’m such a shitty friend. “I’m sorry. It just—it happened really fast.”
“You knew? Did Seth tell you?”
“Um, yeah. Kind of.”
I hear the pop of a bottle being opened. Probably one of those horrid Kombucha drinks she lugs out here every weekend and then keeps in the back of the fridge, writing her name on the bag in enormous block letters. As if anyone else would want them. “Spill it, Viv.”
I don’t even know where to begin. But I do, starting with Lance surprising me in the yard and ending with Seth’s text. (And leaving out Lance’s tendency to lose track of his towels.) “Apparently, Seth rented the house to him, too.”
“Wait—setting aside that this guy showed up out of nowhere and proceeded to help you scrub toilets—I don’t understand what the problem is. If there’s not enough beds, we’ll just squeeze an air mattress somewhere.”
I can’t help but laugh at the image of Lance blowing up his own bed and sleeping next to a Ping-Pong table. “No, he didn’t buy a share in the house. He rented the entire place for the rest of the summer.”
“The whole house . . . just for himself? Jeez.” I can hear her mentally calculating how much that must have cost. “Fine. He’s rich. But why does his agreement with Seth trump ours? That’s not fair at all.”
I run a hand through my hair. Life isn’t fair.
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?
“The new house. You’re there now, right? It sucks that we’re in Quogue, but Seth didn’t shove us in some dump, did he?”
My pulse kicks up. “I don’t know, actually. I—”
“Oh my God, did you quit? Did Seth fire you? Are you back at your parents?”
This conversation would be so much easier if we were having it in person. “None of the above. I’m still in Southampton.”
Savannah draws a sharp breath. “Wait a minute … are you staying there? With the guy who stole our house?”
“His name is Lance. And he didn’t steal the house. Seth screwed up. It’s not Lance’s fault.”
“Whatever,” she brushes me off. “I just don’t understand, what are you doing there?”
“Exactly what I did before. Taking care of the house. And he—”
“Uh, no. You’re living with a guy you just met. For. The. Summer.”
“I’ve been living with strangers for the past month.”
“That’s different, and you know it.” She pauses and takes a gulp of whatever noxious concoction she’s drinking this week. “Tell me about him, this house thief.”