Part 4 (1/2)

”Why are you scowling?”

”Because apparently you're planning a festival to celebrate the town's bicentennial, which I didn't even know was taking place,” I say. ”And some sort of charity auction, which I also did not know was taking place.”

”Well, it's to benefit the Historical Society's restoration of the train depot near Wizard's Park,” Liv says. ”So you shouldn't be scowling.”

”When were you going to tell me this?”

”I thought I did.” She looks at the computer. ”I mean, I wrote down all the... Oh.”

She plucks a Post-it off the computer and hands it to me. Written in her loopy handwriting is: Tell Dean about festival and auction.

She gives me a sheepish grin. I crumple the note in my fist.

”Is there a reason you wanted to take this job?” I toss the note into the trash.

”They asked me to.”

”Who asked you to?”

”The city council. The original festival director got a job in Indiana, so she had to move away. And the city council knows how involved the Wonderland Cafe has been with local events, so they asked if I'd be interested in taking over the festival.”

”And you said yes?”

”Well, obviously.” Liv puts her hands on her hips. ”And I wanted to do the charity auction because the Wonderland Cafe has always been involved in Historical Society projects. Why are you so annoyed?”

I'm annoyed because my wife seems to have plenty of energy and ambition for everything except our s.e.x life... to the point where she had to fake an o.r.g.a.s.m.

Irritation grips my neck. Apparently her little act was more of an insult than I'd initially thought. Since when does she think of something else when we're f.u.c.king?

”I appreciate you wanting to help, Liv,” I say evenly. ”But I don't get why you'd take on the task of planning a festival when you're already overbooked.”

She narrows her eyes. ”You don't think I can handle it?”

Oh, f.u.c.k.

”That's not the issue, and you know it.” I step closer to her, still frowning. ”You have s.h.i.+fts almost every day, you've been talking about expanding the cafe, you're busy every weekend with birthday parties, you've got Nicholas registered for toddler sports and swimming cla.s.ses... and while you know I'll help however I can, I'm not happy about you taking on more work right now.”

”Dean, most of the festival work is already done,” Liv says, spreading her arms out. ”Linda, the former director, had so much already in place. I just need to schedule the events, make sure we have all the permits, confirm the details, and set up the charity auction.”

”That's it, huh?”

”I promise, it's not that big a deal.” She puts her hand on my chest in an obvious ploy to weaken me. ”Just phone calls and emails, a meeting or two. It's going to be a wonderful event for the whole town. And I'm doing it partly to create more visibility for the cafe and secure our reputation as an important inst.i.tution. That's all part of our success.”

I look into her brown eyes and feel an old, familiar twist in my chest. Liv has tried so hard to find her place in Mirror Lake, and I know this is one more way of ensuring that her roots here run strong and deep. It's one more way of making herself an integral part of the town that has become her home.

But as strongly as I understand that, I still don't have to like it.

”Do you have an a.s.sistant?” I ask. ”Have you asked other people for help?”

”There's a whole planning committee, and I'm delegating duties to everyone,” Liv says, faint irritation flas.h.i.+ng in her eyes. ”Look, I haven't complained about you being so busy lately or gone so often. Haven't you been overextending yourself for the past two years? You know, it's not always easy taking care of Nicholas by myself.”

My jaw grinds. ”I have told you countless times since Marianne moved away that I want us to hire another nanny.”

”I don't want another nanny, Dean. I want you.”

I take a breath and try to smother a surge of guilt. Liv sighs and strokes her hands over my chest.

”Dean, not once have I resented the work you're doing,” she says. ”I don't like it when you're gone, but I know how important the excavation is, and I would never ask you to change anything. I have always supported you, so don't make it sound as if I don't know my own limitations, okay? Please.”

I drag a hand down my face. Frustration pushes at my chest. My work isn't going to slow down anytime soon.

For weeks I've been dealing with the fallout of the earthquake, a.s.sessing damage to a site that had previously stood for a thousand years, battling governmental officials and inst.i.tutions who want to kill the whole project. Not to mention making decisions I don't like. Then s.e.x with my wife last night was hardly a hero's welcome-not that being angry about that will help anything either.

At this point, however, I'm not sure what will help.

”Dean, I don't want you to scale back your work, especially now,” Liv says. ”I know you need to save the site, and I'm proud of your dedication and commitment. But I want to do things too, and being asked to plan the festival is an honor I can't turn down. Okay?”

I don't respond, but I nod.

”I promise, I'm recruiting more people every day,” she continues. ”In fact, I'm going to recruit you to help out during the festival, maybe with one of the stages or setting up for the auction. You know how much I love watching your muscles flex when you do heavy lifting.”

She strokes her hands down my arms and looks at me from underneath her long lashes. Some of my tension eases. Though I'm well aware Liv is playing me, I decide to let her. Because anything that gets my hot, sweet wife thinking in a s.e.xy direction-and then staying there-is a win.

”What will I get in return?” I slide my hands around to squeeze her gorgeous a.s.s.

”Whatever you want.”

”Then I happily volunteer.”

”I knew you would.” Liv reaches up to kiss me. ”I'll let you know what I need you to sign up for, okay?”

”Sure.”

As if I could ever tell her no.

After leaving Nicholas with Liv, I drive to the east side of the lake where cl.u.s.ters of rental cabins, outdoor shops, and restaurants cater to the tourist crowd. Next to a sandwich shop is the place my brother Archer bought with his inheritance money. It's a rundown garage attached to an office, which he's in the process of turning into a motorcycle repair and sales shop.

I go through the main office to the back room where Archer does all the paperwork. I stop and knock on the closed door. After a moment, his voice tells me to come in.

I push open the door. The air feels thick, laced with tension. Archer is sitting behind the desk in grease-stained overalls, his expression set. Kelsey March, Archer's girl and one of my best friends, is standing on the other side of the room.

”Hey, man.” Archer rises and extends a hand. ”Welcome back.”

”Thanks.” I shake his hand and go to kiss Kelsey on the cheek. ”Thought you'd be on campus today.”

”I'm heading over to Edison Power to finalize the details of funding for the Spiral Project,” she replies, brus.h.i.+ng a hand through her blue-streaked blond hair. ”How was your trip?”

”Good. Got a lot done.” I step away from her. ”How was California?”