Christy-Lynn offered a noncommittal nod. It was hard to find fault with her advice, but she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about the way she’d gone after Wade in the café, lumping him in with the mob in her driveway when the truth was, apart from his dislike of Stephen, she knew almost nothing about him.

She had assumed—judged. And tonight she had arrived at Taco Loco expecting the same from Missy and Dar. Instead, they had rallied around her, accepting her story at face value and without judgment. It seemed she had a lot to learn about this friendship business.

NINETEEN

Christy-Lynn checked her watch, hoping it wasn’t too late for an impromptu visit. She’d been halfway home after dinner with Missy and Dar when she decided she needed to set the record straight. Unfortunately, directory assistance had no listing for a Wade Pierce, which appeared to back up his story about living off the grid, but also meant having to drive all the way up to Silver Lake in the dark, armed with nothing but Missy’s vague description of a lakefront cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Thankfully, the description turned out to be spot-on and enough to get her where she was going. But now, as she stepped up onto Wade’s front porch, she was having second thoughts. Yes, she’d been ratty, had even resorted to name calling, but under the circumstances that was hardly surprising. Maybe she should just scurry back to the Rover and forget the whole thing.

Before she could make up her mind, the door swung open. Wade made no attempt to hide his surprise. “Christine. Sorry . . . Christy-Lynn. I thought I heard someone pull up. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. I hope it’s not too late to come by.”

“Um . . . no.” He was holding a mug, and the smell of coffee drifted out onto the porch. “Come on in. I just brewed a fresh pot if you’re interested.”

“No. No, thank you. I won’t be long. I just wanted to talk about this afternoon.”

“Can we talk in the kitchen? I need a refill.”

Christy-Lynn surveyed the cabin as she followed Wade through to the kitchen. It was small, but the open plan and vaulted ceiling gave it a surprisingly spacious feel. There was a stairway in one corner and a roomy loft overhead. If she craned her neck, she could just glimpse the foot of an unmade bed.

“Are you sure I can’t pour you one?”

“No, thanks.” Her gaze drifted to the expanse of moonlit water beyond the sliding glass doors. “Quite a view.”

“Yes.”

An awkward silence spooled out as they stared at each other. Finally, Christy-Lynn found her tongue. “About today. I may have been out of line when I said what I said.”

Wade’s shoulders seemed to relax, though not completely. “Forget it. I caught you off guard.”

“It’s just that I’ve been trying to put everything behind me, and when you showed up out of the blue, all I could think of was the circus starting all over again.”

He sipped slowly, as if mulling over her words. “You assumed the minute I left the store I would pick up the phone and tip off an old friend.”

“Something like that.”

“Do you always assume the worst about people or is it just me?”

Christy-Lynn wasn’t sure how to answer that, though it was certainly a fair question. Perhaps it was a little of both, though his bristly manner at present was hardly helping his case. “Look, I came to apologize, but you’re not making it easy.”

Wade scrubbed at the scruff along his jaw. It wasn’t a look Stephen could have pulled off, but on Wade, it worked. “I did offer you coffee.”

Christy-Lynn ignored the remark. She wasn’t in the mood for humor. “Just let me say what I came to say, and then I’ll go. I’m not an idiot. I know you had some kind of ax to grind with my husband, and I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions this afternoon. I shouldn’t have. But it’s hard not to think that all of this isn’t enormously satisfying for you.”

“Whoa.” Wade set down his mug very slowly. “For someone trying to apologize, that’s a pretty harsh accusation. You’re saying I’m taking some sort of perverse glee in all this?”

“I’m just stating the facts as I see them. I don’t know what happened between you and my husband all those years ago. He never would tell me. I just assumed you fell for the same girl—and that you lost.”

Wade’s expression hardened. “I assure you the bad blood between Stephen and me had nothing to do with losing out on the homecoming queen.”

“You’re not going to tell me either.”

He picked up his mug, giving it a swirl. “No.”

“Fine. Here’s what I came to say—I know there’s nothing stopping you from picking up the phone. In fact, I’m pretty sure you could make a nice buck if you wanted to, but—”

Wade cut her off with a huff of his own. “First of all, real journalists don’t pay for stories. It’s not what you call . . . ethical. Second, I’m not in the habit of ratting out friends.”

Christy-Lynn’s chin lifted a notch. “Stephen wasn’t your friend. You’ve made that clear, even if you won’t say why.”

“I was talking about you.”

“Oh.” The statement knocked her a little off balance. “Well, I’m not your friend either, am I? And you were a reporter, presumably one who still has connections, though until you actually pick up the phone, I guess I’ll have to give you the benefit of the doubt.”