Page 17 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

As tempting as it was to go down and gorge myself on pizza and an amber ale, I wasn’t up for it. I wasn’t a leave the house makeup-free with wet hair kind of woman, and I didn’t have the energy to do myself up. I wanted to spend the rest of the evening relaxing and reveling in my postcoital bliss.

“I think I’m going to pass tonight. I’m wiped. Rain check?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.” There was a smile in Thea’s voice. She didn’t need to work, not with Logan’s vast fortune, but she loved being part owner of the Lark Cove Bar. It was her passion.

Just like working for the Kendrick Foundation was mine. It wasn’t glamorous. I was on the stage crew, watching from the curtains as men like Logan and our CEO got the standing ovations for the work we did to change people’s lives. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Thea asked.

“Yes. Logan and I have a conference call with the New York crew at ten. I’ll stop and get us all lattes from the hut.”

“Have I mentioned how happy I am that you’re living here?”

I smiled. “Once or twice.”

“Bye.”

I said my farewell, then set down the phone on the counter. With my wine in hand, I went to the bathroom and unwrapped my hair. I’d been blessed with a head of thick, silky hair, but it required a hair dryer to keep straight.

Air-drying was not an option if I didn’t want to wake up with kinks on one side and a flat spot on the other. So I got out the blow dryer and went about taming my tresses. The generator kicked on with my hair dryer, and I gave myself a diabolical grin in the mirror.

Could Kaine hear my generator? Did it annoy him too? Maybe he’d get mad about the noise again and come over for another round on the couch.

As I dried my hair, I saw dimples each time I caught my reflection. The grouchy man next door had turned me into a smiling fool, and I didn’t even know his last name.

Kaine had left here in such a hurry, there was no way he felt the same about our encounter. But after the shock subsided, I hoped he’d feel differently.

When I’d seen him on t

he ridge last month, he’d been shrouded in agony. He’d shown up at my camper with the same tortured heart—pain lurked behind his colorful eyes. It rippled over each of his muscles, floating underneath his skin.

My only regret from earlier was that our sex had been so fast and consuming, I’d missed the chance to give him one tender touch.

Kaine had helped me over a hurdle today. In turn, I wanted to erase a bit of his pain, even if it was only a pinch.

With my hair dry and resting over my shoulders, I put my hair dryer and round brush away just as my phone rang again from out in the kitchen. If it was Thea, I’d have a harder time saying no to an evening at the bar now that my hair was dry.

The task was always a feat, but with it done, it wouldn’t take much to summon the energy for makeup. I was contemplating eye shadow palettes as I picked up the phone.

Adam.

When would he stop calling? Hadn’t we said all there was to say?

I hadn’t seen my ex-husband in person since the day the judge had finally granted me a divorce. Though, it hadn’t stopped me from seeing his face throughout the city. Adam was the star of a hugely successful Broadway play, so his chiseled jaw, blue eyes and blond hair were plastered all over Manhattan.

They popped up on my screen with every one of his phone calls.

God, I wanted the ability to ignore him. I wanted so badly to hit decline and block him out of my mind. But I’d never declined a call from Adam. Not once.

I’d missed some calls over the years. I’d let some go to voicemail if I was heading into a meeting or if my hands were full. But I’d never made the conscious choice to actually decline, not even as we’d been going through the divorce.

Why was it so hard to cut him out of my life? Less than an hour ago, I’d thought I was over this and moving on. But with just his name on the screen, the ache from our failed marriage was creeping its way back in.

My finger hovered over the red circle to decline. Push it. As it came down on the green circle instead, my heart sank. I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Adam’s smooth voice rolled over my skin like oil. For years, I’d called him just to hear his hello. His voice had once been the balm to soothe my hurting heart.

Kaine’s voice was the exact opposite. It was deeper, gruff and unrefined. He’d only spoken to me twice, both times with anger, giving his tone an additional bite. Yet I couldn’t get it out of my head. It overpowered Adam’s greeting.