I was making him think the task was taking longer than usual.

“Almost!” I hollered back, then looked away from the window I was peering out of and glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was almost six. The mail typically ran between two and two thirty.

This was unacceptable.

“Come on,” I whispered to the empty room, shifting on my feet, then turned my head and resumed looking out for the mail truck through the shutter blinds I was holding apart.

“Just going to the beach. You know this, right?” Brian yelled. “Not sure what all you’re putting on back there but you only need your suit.”

“I’m accessorizing!”

Lie.

Although I was finally wearing the turquoise hair wrap I’d purchased months ago, using it like a headband so it kept the hair out of my face. It was tied off at the base of my skull and then interwoven with my ponytail so it concealed the boring elastic band holding everything together.

And like predicted, it looked amazing against my red.

“You’re what?” Brian called back, sounding confused.

I turned to the door.

“Just give me another minute! I’m finishing up!” Then I turned back to the window and muttered, “Someone is not getting a Christmas card this year.”

I was referring to our mailman.

Today was an important day, for two reasons.

First, Brian and I were finally going to the beach so he could get back out on the water.

This was huge.

I was beyond excited to leave and get him out there, but we couldn’t leave yet, hence the reason I was stalling and saying I wasn’t ready when I’d been ready for the past fifteen minutes.

This was because of reason number two.

Something was set to arrive in the mail today, and because of the importance of it, I didn’t want us to be gone when it arrived.

However, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to stall. Eventually Brian would come back to the bedroom and find me ready to go, and I had a feeling my time was running out along with his patience.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the street.

I liked our mailman. He was a nice guy, but he was seriously messing up my plans here.

Life was perfect, but I knew it had the potential of becoming even more perfect for Brian, and I wanted that.

Two days after I moved back in, Brian and I were sitting on the couch watching TV when the local news came on. The man running the adult film company Brian had been shooting for was arrested on charges of tax evasion, shutting down the operation and destroying any remaining ties Brian had to them.

We were both happy hearing this, although I was more relieved than anything. I hated knowing that place was around, and after hearing Brian tell me everything that happened during our three days apart, what all he went through to get the videos taken down and learning about that scumbag owner, I wanted to punch him in the face myself.

Now he was in jail, and he would be for a very long time.

Brian was completely free of that monster, and knowing there was no risk of us ever running into Mike, he was loving life.

And he was about to love it even more if the damn mail would ever come.

Footsteps turned my head as they grew louder in the hallway.

Shit!

“Babe, seriously, whatever you’re wearing, I’m sure is fine.” Brian’s voice carried with his steps.

I sucked in a breath, looked back at the street, and saw the white and blue mail truck making its way toward our house.

“Coming!” I yelled, crossing the room and yanking the door open. “The mail is here. Let’s grab it before we head out,” I suggested casually, darting past him where he stood in the hallway and briefly catching his eyes.

“What the hell were you doing in there?” he asked at my back.

“I told you. Accessorizing.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw he was moving this way now, eyeing me suspiciously. “The wrap was complicated,” I threw out.

Lie.

I spun around and walked backward.

His eyes went to my hair. “I like it. Looks good on you,” he said, moving in my direction.

My cheeks warmed.

“Thanks,” I replied, giving him a wink, then I spun around when I reached the foyer. “Sir, get back.” I eased my puppy out of the way and wrenched the front door open, darted outside, jogged across the lawn, and waved at the mailman as he pulled up in front of our house.

“You’re late,” I scoffed as I took the mail he was holding out, then I didn’t linger and spun back around, jogged across the lawn again, jumped up onto the porch, and rushed inside.

“Come on. Let’s look through this real quick and then we’ll head out,” I proposed, my breaths coming hurriedly and rushing the words out of my mouth.

I crossed the room and moved into the kitchen, stepped up to the island, dropped the mail on the counter, and then whirled around, waiting for Brian to join me.

He followed but he did it leisurely. My foot was tapping when he finally entered the room.

“You’re acting weird,” he pointed out, coming to stand beside me.

“No, I’m not,” I argued, even though I knew he was right.

I was never this eager about checking the mail. It only ever contained bills.

I fished through the envelopes and sale flyers.

“I’m hoping my new Target Red Card is in here. I want to start earning my five percent off.”

Lie.

“That couldn’t wait until after we got back from the beach?” Brian asked.

I turned my head and looked at him, my hands stilling their search.

“I might want to stop on our way home and pick something up,” I explained, committing to my story. “And I’ll be upset if we do that and then get home and my card was here waiting for me. Five percent is five percent.”

His mouth twitched.

“You’re a cute liar, Wild.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Thank you, but I’m not lying,” I lied. “Now, if you don’t mind …” I turned my head back to the counter and resumed fishing through the mail, ignoring Brian’s deep, muted chuckle, then spotted the envelope I was looking for. “Here!” I picked it up, swiveled, and held it out for Brian to take.

“That’s not from Target,” he stated, taking the envelope and studying it.

It was addressed to him and had a P.O. box for the return. No name for the sender.

I tilted my head with a smile.

“I’m a cute liar. What can I say?” I shrugged, watching the slow shake of his head. “Open it.”

“You know what this is?”

I nodded and grabbed a stray lock of hair and started twirling it while Brian ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents—a folded piece of paper and a check.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, looking at the check first. His eyes lifted to mine.

“Read the letter.” I tapped the folded paper in his hand.

Brian sat the check down on the counter and unfolded the letter, then he proceeded to read it, breathing slowly and evenly then quicker and a little stressed, not anxious, more like when you’re excited about something.

When he reached the end of the letter, all of the air left his lungs in a pant.

He lifted his eyes to me again. They were round now, the whites swallowing up his green. He looked shocked.