The last thing I wanted to do was overstay my welcome. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get home. Regroup, you know? Get a new phone.” I pushed to my feet. Time to get going. “Thanks for talking, Mitch, I really appreciate—”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Mitch put out a hand like he could stop me from where he was. “I know you. You’re gonna go right back to work on Monday.”
I had to scoff at that. “I think I burned that bridge pretty well.”
“Then you’ll get another job. The same shit, different office. Is that really what you want?”
“I don’t . . .” My mind went blank. I had no answer for him. My goals had been just that—goals. High school valedictorian, summa cum laude at college, top percentile in law school, position with an established, high-profile firm, a partnership at said firm—they’d all been laid out in front of me like landmarks, but no one had ever asked if I’d wanted any of them.
“I love you, Lu. And I’m proud as hell of you. But when’s the last time you felt really happy?”
I didn’t even have to think. “Just now. Hanging out with your friend Stacey and listening to this music.” My blood pressure momentarily lowered as I let myself relax into the memory, but I shook it off. “Doesn’t matter. This isn’t real life.”
“Maybe not for you.” Stacey had come back, and Mitch grinned at her through the phone.
“Damn straight. So what’s the word?”
“About what?” But he wasn’t addressing me, he was talking to Stacey, who nodded.
“As long as she’s on board.” She looked at me. “You are, aren’t you?”
“On board with what?”
Stacey huffed. “You didn’t tell her yet?”
“I was getting to it!” She huffed again, and he rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to me. “Lulu, we were thinking. What if you disappeared for a little bit?”
“Disappeared?” I shook my head; he wasn’t making any sense.
“Yeah. If you go home, your mom’s gonna fill your head with the usual bullshit. You’ll be back in that power suit, working for dickheads who don’t appreciate you.”
I clucked my tongue. “Don’t hold back, Mitch. Tell me what you really think.”
“You need a break,” he shot back. “That’s what I really think.”
He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a vacation. The last time I’d had a day—weekend, holiday, didn’t matter—where my phone hadn’t rung or chimed with a text, with a fire at work that somehow only I could put out. I’d always told myself that when I made partner those days would end, but I’d been paying those dues for years with no return on investment.
But . . . “Let me get this straight. You’re suggesting I run away and join the Renaissance Faire?” It sounded like a life plan made by a ten-year-old.
Next to me Stacey shrugged. “It worked for me,” she said with a smile.
“Not forever,” Mitch rushed to clarify. “You just need to clear your head. Stacey said they have room in their group, and they’ll be hitting Willow Creek for our Faire in a few weeks. Hitch a ride with them, and you can come stay with April and me in July. Everything else can wait till then. Sound good?”
When he put it like that, it sounded . . . well, it sounded perfect. The thought of existing out here in the woods, not worrying about lawsuits or difficult bosses barking orders . . . it seemed too good to be true.
I glanced over at Stacey. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?”
I was joking, but Stacey nodded. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Then it’s settled.” Mitch clapped his hands together. “I’ll run interference with your folks, and we’ll figure things out when you get here. Got it?”
“Got it.” I handed the phone back to Stacey, dazed. I’d never been a “roll with it” kind of person, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d just agreed to. But it had to be better than the life I was living.
Stacey disconnected the call with my cousin then tugged me to my feet. “Come on. We still have time before Faire closes for the day. Let’s get you some garb so you’ll be set up. Daniel’s going to ask around tomorrow; someone always needs help with something around here.” She hugged my arm. “I love this! I’ve been the only girl in the group for too long now. You’ll have fun, I promise.”
“That sounds like a threat.” This was good. If I could make jokes, I was probably going to be okay.
But Stacey just laughed. “You know it! Lots of hair braiding and girl talk. Just don’t let Dex flirt with you. He’s bad news.”
“I am not, how dare you.” The voice came from behind us, a teasing growl. I turned to see one of the band members—the bad boy with the man bun. Of course. “Hey.” He extended a hand to me in greeting. “Dex.”
“Louisa.” I slid my hand in his, giving him my best attorney handshake. Firm grip, firm eye contact, letting him know I wasn’t going to take any shit.
And whoa, I needed that handshake to hide behind. Because up close Dex was a lot to take in. Strong hands, with a guitar player’s calluses. That strength continued up his corded forearms, with muscles that were barely hidden by the loose lace-up shirt he wore. My firm eye contact brought me into the depths of his eyes. A dark brown that, this close, glittered with slivers of amber.
But he had to ruin it by smirking. He had to ruin it by knowing the effect he had on women, and giving me an up-and-down appraisal.
“So you’re coming along with us, huh?” A slow smile traveled over his face. “This is gonna be fun.” There was no question as to what kind of fun he meant.
I took my hand back, startled. Spell broken.
Stacey whacked him on the shoulder. “What did I just say? She’s not here for you.” She sighed a long-suffering sigh and turned to me. “Ignore him. Come on.”
I followed Stacey out to the lanes leading to the clothing vendors, and even though I could feel those dark eyes still on me, I didn’t look back. I was well over my bad boy phase, and like Stacey said: I wasn’t here for him. I had come to the Faire for me.