what else he grabbed. I knew where he was going. He probably had clothes at her condo. I didn’t care. It was still dark outside when he left the penthouse. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.
The morning sun filled the room, waking me. Begrudgingly, I checked the clock. Ginger wouldn’t be at the gym this morning, and I had more important needs. I quickly showered and dressed. I needed to see Thomas.
Twenty-Four
Thomas greeted me with open arms and a cup of coffee. “Jacob just
baked some muffins. Come sit and tell me what the urgency is.”
What is it with everyone baking muffins?
Thomas was six feet two inches and lean. My friend maintained his physical
appearance almost as intensely as I did. He was the complete opposite of his husband, Jacob, who was five feet nine and dressed like he was a seventies hippie. So different, but no one who spent any time with them could argue that
they weren’t a perfect couple.
While I told the men what happened over the weekend, they listened
patiently for me to finish.
“Caitlyn, I can’t believe you did that. You vixen.” Jacob laughed and refilled
my coffee.
“I know. I have no idea what came over me. Honestly, it was like a house of
horror in his pants. I was afraid of what I was going to find.” I sighed. Pouring more cream into my cup, I swirled the cloudy concoction. “Vicky got the better
deal with Jeremy as a lover.”
“Good sex or not, you need out. And, I have a way to speed up your plans.
What would you say to writing a book?”
“I haven’t written anything,” I argued.
“But, you can write, and I have a unique opportunity waiting for you.
Remember the wealthy old lady I told you about, the one who reached out to me
because she wants someone to pen her memoirs of her salacious life? She wants
to get credit for being the author, so I thought you would be her perfect ghostwriter. The best part is, she wants you to come to her home and be her scribe,” Thomas informed me.
“Why me? You have other staff who have actually been published.”
“She asked for a female. Check. Someone who had a strong publishing
career. Check. And someone who didn’t have a husband and kids to distract her.
Check. Check.” Thomas dramatically checked his points off in the air.
“What about…?” I began to argue why I was not qualified.
“Stop. You’re my best editor. I know you can finish the two manuscripts you
have left and be ready to head off to Montana, the Big Sky Country,” Thomas finished in a fake cowboy accent.
“You know they don’t speak like that in Montana. Your Texas accent is way
off.”
“Caitlyn,” Thomas’ tone grew serious. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity. Vivian Wolf is a character. She made her fortune as a burlesque dancer, a stage actress, and from her many marriages. She said she left each marriage by burying and inheriting, or by divorcing and collecting enormous cash settlements. She’s a delight. If I could write, I would be there in a hot minute.” Thomas grinned.
“It sounds like the perfect arrangement, Cat.” Jacob buttered a muffin and handed it to me. “Picture it. You can move on, living in a beautiful home in the
mountains of Montana. Show her the pictures, honey.”
Thomas handed me his phone, and I scanned through images. Vivian lived in
a large dark wood house with brick accents. The green property, mountain backdrop, and the sparkling pond were tempting.
Each photo had a gray-haired woman posing. Standing by a chestnut-colored
horse, I guessed she was just over five feet tall. She looked like a force to be reckoned with, but there was something about her green eyes that made me trust
