Page 80 of Gold Rush

“I thought it’d be easier now. I love Sawyer exactly how he is. I’m not trying to change him. I just … I was trying to make him more comfortable at events he comes to with me, where guys do wear watches worth more than most cars.”

“Did you tell him that?”

A sheepish smile appears. “I told him there were a lot of hot guys in Montreal who know how to properly appreciate a gift.”

“Nice de-escalating, Wren.”

“Yeah.” She releases a long breath. “Things have been going so well between us. It’s been a perfect summer. I’m about to go back to school, and I’m … I’m scared to do long distance. I’m worried everything will fall apart again as soon as we’re apart.”

I study the contents of my glass. I’m the last person Wren should be coming to for dating advice. My love life has been a series of failed relationships, and my current one isn’t even real. “That would have been another good thing to mention to Sawyer.”

Wren sighs again, raising her glass and draining it. “I know. Saying it is harder than knowing you should say it.”

“Knowing you should say it is a good first step.”

We’re both silent, thinking, so I hear the key slide into the lock. I glance at the door right as it opens. Rory enters, balancing two binders and the travel mug she transports her morning coffee in.

I’ve seen Rory Kensington, sporadically, for almost twenty years. But this is the first time she’s appeared and been all that I see.

I barely register her surprised exclamation of her sister’s name or Wren’s ensuing explanation of the spat with Sawyer, causing her to return to Manhattan earlier than planned for Lili’s bachelorette party this weekend. I watch Rory set her keys in the ceramic bowl by the door, kick off her heels, and approach the island, her attention on Wren as she continues listening to the story.

“I’ll take those,” I say, reaching for the binders.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” She releases her hold, eyes quickly meeting mine.

I kiss her. Hasty, with no tongue, because Wren is sitting only a few feet away, but I tug the end of her ponytail, too, before carrying the papers over to the kitchen table, where we normally work in the evenings.

When I turn back around, Wren has stood. “Okay then. I’m out of here.”

“I thought you were staying for dinner,” I say, walking back into the kitchen.

Wren glances at the pot of burned rice. “No, thanks. If I leave now, I’ll make it back to the Hamptons by ten.” She hugs Rory. “See you Friday.” Then she walks over and hugs me too. “Thanks for the talk.”

“Anytime. Say hi to Sawyer.”

“I will.” Wren walks away, calling, “Bye, Finch,” over her shoulder before the door slams shut behind her.

Rory sets her mug on the counter with a clank. “Sounds like you guys had quite the⁠—”

My mouth covers hers before she has a chance to finish that sentence. Rory hums, rising up on her tiptoes and looping her arms around my shoulders. I run my hands down her back, palming her ass and pulling her flush against my growing erection.

I leave her lips and kiss a line along her jaw. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she gasps. “Busy. You?”

“Long.” I grind my aching dick against her. “Hard.”

Her eyelids flutter, her breathing choppy and uneven. “You’re home early.”

“So are you.”

Rory’s hands slide down my chest, stopping at my belt. She begins working on the buckle, not bothering to pull the leather free from the loops before she unbuttons and unzips my suit pants. My dick is literally weeping with relief when she pulls it free from the fabric prison.

“Why does it smell like smoke in here?”

“I …” My hips thrust deeper into her grip as she fists my swollen cock. “I burned dinner.”

“Did the alarm go off?”