CONTENTS

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

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CHAPTER 1

Raffo parked the car in front of the garage and cut the engine, silencing the music she’d been belting along to. She inhaled deeply and examined the house in front of her. Connor wasn’t the kind of person who understated things—quite the opposite—but that’s exactly what her best friend had done with this property. It looked vast and luxurious from the outside, more like a year-round home than a weekend getaway place.

She got out of the car and stretched her limbs. Raffo hadn’t stopped on the road from Los Angeles to Big Bear Lake. It was only a two-hour drive and she just wanted to go-go-go. Away from LA and Mia and their open relationship that had failed so spectacularly, it might be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn much. The temperature dropped several degrees at this elevation, a welcome relief from LA’s smoggy summer heat.

Raffo grabbed her backpack from the car. She’d fetch her suitcases and painting materials after she’d explored the inside of this swanky house she’d be occupying for a while. It was up in the air exactly how long—as long as it took, she guessed—but Connor had told her she could stay as long as she wanted. The property belonged to his mother who was on a spiritual ‘Eat-Pray-Love journey’—Connor’s words—through Europe and she wouldn’t be using it this summer.

Raffo walked to the front door and put the key in the lock. As soon as she opened the door, her gaze was drawn to the massive windows overlooking the lake. Oh yes, this would do nicely. Raffo might have to go on her very own spiritual journey to get her groove back, but she didn’t have to travel all the way to Europe for it. A two-hour drive might be all it took.

When she was able to look away from the magnificent view, she scanned the living area. There was a half-full glass of water on the coffee table and the couch cushions were propped together at one side, as though someone had recently rested their head on them. And was that a used coffee cup on the kitchen counter?

“Hello?” Raffo shouted. Was Connor playing a prank on her? He was supposed to be on the way to New York to visit his long-distance boyfriend, but maybe it had just been a ruse. But why would Connor want to stay here with her when Raffo had been sleeping in his spare room for the past month?

No answer came. Still, it was becoming glaringly obvious that someone was staying here. Maybe there had been a mix-up. Maybe Connor’s mother had rented the place out for the summer while she was in Europe. Surely Connor had checked with her whether Raffo could stay here?

Raffo advanced farther into the house.

“Anyone here?” she yelled, a little louder this time.

She headed toward the stairs and listened carefully for any noise coming from the second floor. She thought she heard something, but couldn’t quite make out what. Or maybe she was just imagining sounds now. She ascended the stairs, trying to make as much noise as possible, continuing to announce herself until her repeated hellos felt too silly and awkward.

She cast her gaze around the landing. The door to the bathroom was open. So was the door to the master bedroom. Raffo’s eyes were drawn to a shape on the bed. She froze. Her heart hammered in her chest. She definitely wasn’t alone. She felt like an intruder—she was an intruder. What should she do? Call Connor or approach the stranger? Raffo wasn’t someone who scared easily and her curiosity quickly got the better of her. She peered into the bedroom. Oh, damn. Raffo withdrew. Not only was that person a naked woman with the sheets thrown off her chest, but that was also Connor’s mother. What the hell was going on? Raffo did panic now. Because why wasn’t Connor’s mother responding to her calls?

Raffo tried to remember her name, but it escaped her. She’d only met Connor’s mother a few times at the gallery. Was she really sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard Raffo’s many hellos?

Raffo didn’t want to, but she looked a little closer. She did her utmost to ignore her best friend’s mother’s bare breasts and focus on her ears to check for ear plugs, but they were covered with her tousled, honey-blond hair.

Raffo stopped thinking and shot into action mode. She knocked on the half-open door while trying to remember if, perhaps, Connor’s mother was hearing-impaired.

All of a sudden, two bright blue eyes stared right back at her. Connor’s mother inhaled sharply as she sat up, covering herself. Then she removed a pair of stark-white AirPods from her ears.

“Raffo?” she said, her face a mask of confusion. “Is that you?”

“Mrs., um, Hart.” Raffo still didn’t know where to look, even though Connor’s mom had wrapped as much of the sheet around her chest as possible.

She shook her head. “Hart is Connor’s father’s last name. I’m Dylan French.” Somehow, she managed to send Raffo a zestful smile. Maybe she’d just had an ultra-rejuvenating nap. Or what she’d been listening to through those AirPods was something extra special.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. French,” Raffo mumbled. “Did you not know I was coming here? Did Connor not tell you?”

Connor’s mom expelled a deep sigh. “It’s complicated,” she said. “And please call me Dylan.”

“Why don’t I wait for you downstairs?” Raffo needed to get her bearings as well, and she was sure Dylan could do with some time to regroup—and put some clothes on.

Dylan nodded. “Pour us a glass of that chablis in the fridge, will you?”

CHAPTER 2

Dylan crashed back onto the mattress. That her son’s best friend had just walked in on her half-naked was the very least of her worries. She had a lot of explaining to do, most of all to Connor, but she would have to start with Raffo—and hope that Raffo could keep a secret.

She took a breath and hopped out of bed. She found her discarded clothes from earlier and quickly slipped into a pair of jeans and light-blue T-shirt. She must have fallen asleep while listening to her podcast. Dylan ran her fingers through her hair, decided not to consult a mirror—Raffo had seen her asleep and half-naked already—and hurried down the stairs for a conversation she wasn’t ready to have—about the very reason why she was here without anyone knowing.

Raffo was gazing out of the window. Behind her on the kitchen countertop stood two glasses of wine. She turned around as Dylan approached.

“It’s so gorgeous here,” Raffo said.

Dylan took her in. Connor talked about Raffo a lot, so Dylan felt like she knew her better than she should—she doubted her son talked as much about his mother to his best friend. Raffo was tall and broad-shouldered and exuded an intriguing energy with her long, black hair but decidedly masculine clothes. Dylan had also witnessed firsthand what Connor had been saying all along: Raffo Shah was the Connor Hart Gallery's most extraordinary talent to date.

“Yeah. I’m so lucky.” For now, Dylan thought.

“I did as you asked.” Raffo nodded at the generously filled wine glasses. “It’s the least I can do after walking in on you like that. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Dylan grabbed the glasses and handed one to Raffo. “Shall we sit on the deck?” Difficult conversations were always made easier by sitting shoulder-to-shoulder overlooking the water.

They sat in two sun-bleached Adirondack chairs. Dylan took a sip of wine, swallowed slowly, then said, “Connor doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m on a silent retreat in a Swiss forest, unreachable by phone or email.” Lying to her son had been more awful than the reason for the lie—her own stupidity. “I can’t tell him the truth yet. I came here to work up to it, to get myself ready.”

“Are you okay?” Raffo fixed her coal-black eyes on Dylan. “Physically, I mean?”

“Physically, I couldn’t be better. Well, for a fifty-nine-year-old woman, at least.” Dylan chuckled despite herself, to lighten the mood. “I did something really stupid and I’ve been so mortified, I haven’t been able to tell Connor about it. I haven’t told anyone. I lost… a lot of money and I came to Big Bear to hide out. I can’t afford a trip to Europe any longer.” Dylan tried to un-hunch her shoulders, but they remained glued to her ears. “I’ll have to sell this place.” She shook her head. “It’s all a big mess.”

“I’m so sorry.” Raffo shot Dylan a gentle smile. “You must feel really bad if you didn’t tell Con. Surely, you know he thinks the absolute world of you.”

Warmth blossomed in Dylan’s chest at Raffo’s words—so Connor did talk about her to his friends?—but it was quickly obliterated by a sharp pang of guilt.

“Thanks for saying that. That’s really kind of you.” Dylan huffed out some air. “I hate to keep a secret from him. It’s horrible to be hiding out here, lying to my son about where I am.” Since she’d arrived in Big Bear two weeks ago, Dylan had picked up her phone to call Connor several times every single day, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Then, as time passed, and the lie she’d told her son had stretched and stretched, it only became harder to come clean.

“He’s going to be such a drama queen when he finds out,” Raffo said so matter-of-factly, it made Dylan burst into an inadvertent chuckle.

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “He gets that from me.”

Panic seized her as a thought jumped into Dylan’s head. “He’s not going to show up here, is he? To meet you?”

Raffo shook her head. “He’s in New York with Murray until next week.”

Dylan’s shoulders loosened a fraction. She hadn’t talked to her son in two whole weeks, which was the greatest agony of all.

“He’ll probably call me, though,” Raffo said.

“Oh, fuck.” Dylan couldn’t ask Raffo to lie to her best friend.

“It’s okay. I’ll text him to let him know I’ve arrived safe and well and my cell service is spotty or something like that,” Raffo said.

“Thank you.”

Raffo shuffled in her seat. “I should probably also come up with a reason why I can’t stay here after all.”

“Oh, no, no. You can stay. Really. You’re very welcome here.” Dylan was relieved to have someone to talk to. To get out of her head. To stop spiraling and succumbing to doom scenarios. “If you want to. You probably didn’t come here to spend time with a woman in crisis. I get that. But you should at least stay the night. Let me make you dinner. Sleep on it.” She tilted her head. “Why did you come here, if I may ask?” Dylan rolled her eyes at herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just rambling now. I’m just…” Dylan didn’t continue because she didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s okay. It’s a lot.” Raffo had a very calm, soothing voice. “I’ll stay the night. We’ll see in the morning.” She didn’t elaborate on her reason for coming to Big Bear. She probably wanted to escape LA for a bit. Have some time to herself. That’s why Dylan had bought this place.

“I’ll make up the other room for you and get you some towels.” Dylan pushed herself up.

“You don’t have to do that. Especially if you’re already making me dinner.” Raffo slowly nodded at the chair Dylan had been sitting in. “Just relax. Isn’t that why people come here?”

Raffo had such a quietly commanding quality about her, Dylan sank back into her chair as though someone was pulling her down. She reached for her glass of wine, took a long swig, and gazed into the soothing water of the lake. She’d been doing that since she arrived, but she still felt like the least intelligent person on the planet—a sensation Dylan was decidedly not used to.

CHAPTER 3

Raffo had made her bed and taken a long, hot shower, letting the steaming water wash away the dust from the drive. She headed down the stairs, her stomach rumbling as she followed the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen.

So far, coming to Big Bear had been the opposite of what she’d expected—solitude and all the space she needed to just be—but life could be funny that way. Like when Mia had suggested they open up their relationship in order to make it more robust, as if the solution to their problems was to invite others into their bed.

Dylan was clearly going through some things—and Connor would have a fit once he found out about this—but she hadn’t seemed too thrown by, firstly, Raffo showing up out of the blue and, secondly, walking in on her asleep and half-naked, all sun-kissed skin and tousled hair.

Dylan was humming along to a Fleetwood Mac song, looking far more relaxed than earlier, her hips swaying slightly to the beat as she stirred something aromatic on the stove.

Raffo caught herself admiring Dylan’s shapely, jeans-clad rear for a tantalizing split second before saying, “I hope you have enough for two of whatever smells so good.” Raffo had planned to get settled and then head into town for some grocery shopping, but this day was not going according to plan at all.

Dylan turned around with a crooked grin on her lips. Her hair caught the light of the evening sun as she moved. Objectively speaking, and for a woman on the cusp of sixty, she was rather stunning. Raffo stopped her train of thought and only managed a strained smile in response. Yet, it was far better than her brain being suffused with images of Mia all the damn time.

“There’s plenty for unexpected guests,” Dylan said. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“What’s cooking?” Raffo settled at the kitchen island opposite the stove.

“Pasta primavera,” Dylan said, her attention back on the task at hand. “Ready in two minutes.”

“Lucky me,” Raffo joked. “If Connor had told me this house came with a private chef, I would have come up a lot sooner.”

It was a true delight to see Dylan’s shoulders shake as she laughed.

* * *

Raffo and Dylan sat opposite each other at the weathered wooden table on the deck by the lake. The view was gorgeous, the air was just the right amount of crisp without being chilly, and that chablis was not half bad either.

“I should have seen it coming from a mile away. The distance growing between us, the silences that stretched too long, the way her eyes stopped lighting up when I entered the room. But I had my head too far up my own ass to notice until it was too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, her voice soft with understanding. “Is that why you came out here? To get away, clear your head?”

Raffo nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the lump growing in her throat. She took a fortifying sip of wine before continuing. “She didn’t just break my heart, she also stole my mojo. It’s like I can’t paint anymore. I still go through the motions, but that thing that makes it special, that makes it feel like the most me I can ever be, is just… gone. And without my mojo, without my art, I only feel like half a person.”

“What you’re feeling is perfectly normal,” Dylan reassured her. “You’re grieving the loss of a relationship, a huge part of your life. You need time to heal.”

“I’m just so scared that she broke something vital in me, something that can never be fixed and that, as a result, I’ll never paint a great work again.” The words poured out of Raffo in a torrent, the anxiety that had been gnawing at her, growing with each failed attempt at painting, with each frustrating day spent staring at a maddeningly mediocre canvas. Raffo had sat on Connor’s couch so paralyzed with this particular fear, he’d practically pushed her into her car in the direction of Big Bear.

“How long were you and Mia together?” Dylan asked gently.

“Ten years,” Raffo said. “Well, minus two months and a handful of agonizing days that felt like an eternity.”

Dylan whistled through her teeth. “Damn. A decade is a long time.”

“Yeah,” Raffo said on a ragged sigh. “God, I loved her. Still do.” She swallowed something out of her throat. “I still think she’s the greatest person in the world.” She scoffed. “Certainly not the nicest or the kindest or the most considerate, but just one of those irresistible larger-than-life characters, you know? Someone who only has to take one step into any room to have all eyes on her.” Raffo shook her head. “Not that she isn’t also nice and kind and all those things. At least, she used to be, but… she fell out of love. Like, it didn’t match anymore.” A fat tear slid down Raffo’s cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. “The love I felt for her and the love she had for me, they stopped matching up. It became completely lopsided, uneven, and it’s the most excruciating feeling in the world when the person you love the most, the one you can’t imagine life without, stops loving you back the same way.”

“Oh, Raffo. Oh, sweetheart.” Unlike Mia over the past few months, Dylan was plenty kind. “Here.” She slipped Raffo a clean napkin from a stack on the table.

“I just want to fucking paint again.” Raffo dabbed at the tear on her cheek. “I’m, like, at least fifty percent happier if I can do some painting. It fills me up, gives my life such meaning and joy, but I can’t. I’m totally blocked. It’s driving me insane.”

“It will come back. Your talent is an intrinsic part of who you are. It hasn’t gone anywhere, even if it feels out of reach right now. You just need some time, and some peace, to rediscover it.” Dylan smiled sweetly. “There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

Raffo shrugged, then peered at the lake. “Maybe a few good swims will do the trick.”

“That lake can be somewhat of a miracle worker.” Dylan sounded wistful. “I hope you stay long enough to experience its magic.”

“Magic?” Raffo looked at Dylan. “Has it magically solved your problem?”

“My problem is a little different than yours,” was all Dylan said—and rightly so.

Raffo hadn’t meant to sound so sharp. “Look at us,” she said. “In this gorgeous spot, feeling so miserable.”

“That’s just life, though.” Dylan inhaled deeply. “That’s just how life can fuck with you.” Connor’s mother certainly liked to swear—and Raffo was rather fond of a woman who knew her way around an expletive.

CHAPTER 4

Who was this Mia who had dumped the likes of Raffo Shah? Dylan didn’t get it. Then again, she wouldn’t. Connor was always raving about Raffo and now that Dylan had spent a few hours in her company, apart from devastated about her break-up, Dylan found Raffo to be incredibly down-to-earth and unexpectedly captivating. She could see why a drama queen like her son would have someone so cool and collected as his best friend. Even the way Raffo spoke was thoughtful and measured—even when she talked about how she got dumped. Even when she shed a tear, she did so with an incongruous kind of dignity.

Dylan must have crossed paths with larger-than-life-Mia the same way she had with Raffo, but she hadn’t paid any attention at the time—Mia’s room-filling charisma must have failed to reach her.

Dylan had many questions—and she hadn’t had a proper conversation with another human being in two long weeks—but she decided it was best to further avoid the topic of Raffo’s ex tonight.

“I had my trip to Europe all planned and booked. I’d been looking forward to it for the past year,” Dylan confessed. “Then the cryptocurrency I invested most of my savings in crashed, and here I am.” Saying it to Raffo’s serene, kind face somehow made it easier to speak these wretched words aloud.

“Fuck.” Raffo’s voice was deep and low and perfectly matched how she looked. “How much did you lose?”

Dylan was taken aback by her directness, but part of her also appreciated it. She took a sip of wine, gathering the courage to declare the amount.

“Half a million dollars.”

“Oh, damn.” Raffo’s voice wasn’t so evenly deep any longer. “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It was my own fault. I got greedy. I invested too much and I just kept going, ignoring the warning signs.” She cast her gaze over the deck, then let it land on the soothing water. “Apart from taking a long vacation, I had big plans for that money. I quit my job and I wanted one last hurrah for my career. One last adventure before retiring.” She turned her palms upwards. “I’m going to have to sell this place to make up for what I lost.”

“Fuck. I really am sorry, Dylan. But, um, you may have put your money into it, but you didn’t cause the currency to crash.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Dylan found it impossible to show herself kindness when it came to this. “I got dollar signs in my eyes and was convinced I could make some easy money. I couldn’t have been more wrong. That’s all on me.”

“This might irk you under the circumstances,” Raffo said. “But in the end, it’s just money. You’re healthy. Your son is healthy and happy. And you’re a good-looking woman. I mean, things could be worse.”

Dylan broke into a chuckle, despite how she felt about herself. “I could be ugly?” she joked.

“For instance.” Raffo shot her the kind of goofy smile that obviously didn’t come natural to her. “When I met Mia, I’d only just found the courage to start painting. I had nothing. I worked three minimum-wage jobs just to keep afloat.” She briefly pursed her lips. “My paintings sell for six figures now, thanks to Connor. My point is that money comes and goes, but what difference does it even make when the rest of your life is falling apart?”

“It makes a big difference when you’ve just lost half a million. I’ve always made good money, but five hundred thousand bucks is a hell of a lot to no longer have in your account.” Dylan huffed out some air. “But it’s not just the money. It’s the shame. I’m so ashamed of what happened. Of how I let myself get carried away. How I, basically, lost my sanity. That’s the biggest reason I haven’t told Connor yet. I won’t be able to bear the look on his face.”

“So you’re hiding out here.” Raffo nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry if I sounded flippant earlier. That was not my intention. My relationship with money is very up and down and I should know that everyone relates to it in their own weird, special way. I get why you haven’t told Con. You don’t want him to think any less of you.”

Dylan managed a small smile. “It’s a relief that I don’t have to worry about Connor’s money situation, what with his gallery representing you and your paintings selling for such big amounts.” It certainly hadn’t always been this way and Dylan had loaned her only child plenty of money when he’d just started his gallery.

“The art world is all about capitalism now,” Raffo said, the tone of her voice betraying her ambivalence about that.

“Congratulations, by the way. I love your work. Connor gave me one of the paintings from your first show at his gallery. It’s so incredibly joyful. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that your work achieves higher and higher prices.”

“Thanks,” Raffo all but mumbled.

It surprised Dylan that Raffo found it so hard to take a compliment. Her star had been on the rise for several years—surely she must be used to it by now. But, of course, Raffo had lost her mojo.

“No pressure, okay.” Dylan pointed at a spot beneath the porch that got great light during the day. “But you can set up your things over there, if you want. I’ll give you all the privacy you need.”

“Thanks.” There was a note of something deeper in her voice. “If I decide to stay.” Raffo waggled her eyebrows.

“If you decide to stay.” This dinner with Raffo had been such a welcome change from Dylan being on her own all the time, she truly hoped Raffo would linger a while—even if it meant not telling her best friend about it. But maybe it was too much to ask.

“I’ll stay a couple of days, anyway.” Raffo gazed at the spot that Dylan had just indicated. “I just want to clear my head. Go on a few hikes. Have a couple of swims in this allegedly magical lake. Get a few nights of decent sleep.”

“Anything you want.”

“Well.” Raffo painted on a devilish grin. “I was welcomed by a half-naked lady who then proceeded to cook me a delicious dinner, so I’m off to a wonderful, if slightly surprising start.”

Dylan smiled, again, considering that she and Raffo could help each other put their respective issues into perspective. And that might—indeed—be wonderful, if slightly surprising.

CHAPTER 5

Raffo wanted to call Connor so badly. A couple of times, she picked up her cell and her finger hovered over his number. But she had agreed to keep Dylan’s secret. Lovely, sweet Dylan. Raffo couldn’t tell anyone that she had walked in on her best friend’s mother half-naked, and had subsequently spent a lovely evening with her. Maybe it was for the best, even if she and Connor had the kind of relationship that didn’t harbor many secrets—Raffo knew more about Murray, Connor’s boyfriend, than she ever wanted to know. In return, Connor knew all the details of Raffo’s failed open relationship with Mia—not that Raffo had taken much advantage of the opening up part of their decade-long affair.

As she brushed her teeth, and looked at herself in the mirror, she concluded it might be easier to hide out in Big Bear to keep Dylan’s secret than to go back to Los Angeles, where she actually had to face Connor and would actively have to lie to him until his mother told him where she really was. Staying here protected her from doing that—and she still had to get her mojo back.

On top of all that, if you could judge such a thing by one evening spent together, Dylan was wonderful company. Although that shouldn’t come as a surprise to Raffo. Connor only ever spoke highly of his mother. They were thick as thieves, which is why it surprised Raffo that Dylan would keep such a big thing from Connor.

She texted Connor that she had arrived safely at his mother’s house in Big Bear Lake, but wouldn’t be able to speak to him on the phone due to spotty cell and internet service. She added, to cover her tracks more, that she was happy to be off the grid for a while—perhaps it would enable her to paint again quicker—and thanked him for the opportunity to stay at his mother’s house. It didn’t feel totally right—of course it didn’t—but Raffo was here with Dylan, so she had to follow her rules.

As she got into bed, she did hope that Dylan would come to her senses and tell her son sooner rather than later. Maybe she could talk to her about it tomorrow, after she’d told her that she had decided to stay a while. To take things easy and enjoy a slow, unhurried, stress-free pace of life. With Dylan as unexpected but pleasant company.

For the first time in a long while, Raffo fell asleep almost as soon as she closed her eyes. Yet another reason to stay.

* * *

“I’m truly thrilled.” Dylan’s lips seemed to have taken on a life of their own and were fixed in a permanent smile. What was that all about? Sure, she was glad for the companionship because it got her out of her own head, where she’d been spending too much time, but it couldn’t just be that. Dylan glanced at Raffo, who looked brooding yet radiant in the morning light, and realized that she was looking forward to helping Raffo feel better about herself. To see her come into her own again. To watch her paint. It would be such an honor to witness Raffo Shah put paint to canvas. “Please, stay as long as you like.”

“I do have an issue with not telling Connor.” Raffo was nothing if not straightforward. “I get it, but I hate lying to him.”

“I know.” In the grand scheme of things, and in the hierarchies of white lies—if there even was such a thing—Dylan didn’t think this particular lie, this omission of the truth more like, was that bad. She just needed a little more time to lick her wounds before facing Connor who, she knew very well, would ultimately be understanding, but not before making a big drama out of it. A drama she could do without at this stage. And she had already set the lie in motion when she had supposedly left for Europe, where she was meant to stay for two months. “Can you give me a little more time, please?” Dylan looked into Raffo’s dark eyes.

“He’s my best friend, not just my gallerist.” Raffo sounded earnest.

Dylan nodded. There wasn’t much else she could do.

“Also, um…” The hesitation in Raffo’s words didn’t show in her face when she looked at Dylan. “Given your circumstances, I want to pay rent for staying here. It’s only fair.”

“You don’t have to pay to stay here, Raffo.” Dylan shook her head. “I’m not destitute.”

In response, Raffo just arched up her thick, black eyebrows.

“Okay, look.” Dylan placed her elbows on the kitchen island and leaned toward Raffo. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Raffo tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes?”

“Paint something for me. You don’t have to give me the work. But if you want to pay me some kind of rent for staying, then get your mojo back while you’re here. That would mean a lot to me.”

Raffo frowned. “But getting my mojo back is a reward for me. I don’t get how that translates into paying you.”

“You getting your mojo back is a reward for everyone, including me.” Last night, Dylan had explored Raffo’s website and had marveled at her work. At its colors and its exuberant spirit. Even though she’d seen a lot of her paintings before, they looked different after spending an evening with the artist.

“But no pressure?” Raffo grinned.

“It’s not meant as pressure. Simply appreciation and an unshakable belief that you’ll be creating genius art again in no time.”

“Genius?” Raffo scoffed, then shook her head. “How about I buy all the groceries and take you out for a meal whenever you want?” She scratched the side of her head. “I’d offer to cook, but then I think you’ll want me to leave as soon as possible.”

“Deal.” Dylan stretched out her hand.

Raffo looked at it, then shook it.

“Your cooking is that bad?” Dylan asked.

“It’s not so much that I can’t cook,” Raffo said. “It’s more that I have such an aversion to it that you can taste it in the food I make.”

“Really?” Dylan was more intrigued by Raffo with every minute she spent with her. “Why is that?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Good thing we’ll be here for a while.” Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that, ever since Raffo had arrived, things had started looking up for her—despite her bank account not having been magically replenished overnight.

Raffo chuckled low in her throat. “How about you make me a shopping list and I go to the store first?”

CHAPTER 6

Raffo floated on her back in the lake and gazed up at the bright blue sky. The water was cool but not cold and as clear as the sky overhead. Little had she known that when Connor had pushed her into her car, she’d end up in this little slice of paradise.

Her head was still too full of thoughts of Mia—and her new girlfriend who, mercifully, Raffo hadn’t met—but those thoughts were more bearable out here, away from the city she shared with her ex. Away from her everyday life that hadn’t felt like hers any longer. Her heart was still broken into a million pieces, but Raffo had found an excellent distraction in Dylan.

It was easy enough to forget she was Connor’s mother—nor did it matter when it came to considering how fine her behind looked in a pair of jeans shorts. How she had the kind of hair that caught the sunlight in a way that made you feel like summer was simply an inextricable part of her. How her deep blue eyes sparkled when Raffo said something that surprised her. None of it meant anything. It was just the flimsiest of balms for Raffo’s ruptured soul. She was just taking whatever morsel of joy she could find, and sneaking peeks at Dylan brought her a tiny burst of joy every time.

Maybe it was because Dylan could not look more the opposite of Mia with her sharp body angles and jet-black hair. Dylan was much softer around the edges and the frivolous smattering of ginger freckles on her nose a sight for sore eyes as well as hearts. Raffo simply enjoyed looking at Dylan. She was hot—and kind and empathetic and a great listener—but that’s where it ended. It felt a bit like going on a wellness retreat and finding it came with a private chef/therapist who was also very easy on the eye. Like a win-win when all she’d been doing lately was losing.

Raffo tilted her body upward and gazed in the direction of the house. Dylan was standing on the deck, waving at her. Raffo swam closer.

“Lunch is ready.” Dylan threw in a wide smile as well. God, what a woman. Connor might be pissed off when he found out Dylan had lied about her trip, but he should still thank his lucky stars every single day for having a parent like Dylan. Raffo knew from experience that not every kid got that lucky.

* * *

“I might get my painting materials out later,” Raffo said. She’d been studying the spot Dylan had designated for that purpose all throughout lunch, and its appeal was increasing.

“Already?”

“Just to set up.” Raffo looked into Dylan’s kind eyes. “And don’t worry. I brought plenty of protective sheeting.”

“I’m not worried,” Dylan said. “The way I see it, any paint spatters left by Raffo Shah can only increase the value of this house.”

Raffo ignored Dylan’s comment. A paint stain on the porch was still a paint stain, no matter whose hand had left it there.

“Can that spot be screened off?” Raffo asked. “I can’t leave my paints and brushes exposed to the elements.” Raffo wasn’t too worried yet about any work she might produce, but she’d need a location for safekeeping that as well—later.

“Yep, that’s why I think it’s such an ideal place for you to work.” Dylan sent her a smile. “No pressure of course.”

Something went soft inside Raffo at the sight of another one of Dylan’s gentle, friendly smiles.

“Let me take you out tonight. To thank you.” Raffo smiled back.

“You don’t have to. Seriously. I should be thanking you for not telling Connor about me being here.” Dylan’s smile faded. “Besides, I don’t feel comfortable going out as long as I haven’t told Con. You never know who I might run into. News has a habit of traveling fast in places like this.”

“Fair enough. But I can at least pick us up a pizza or something. Please don’t feel as though you have to cook for me all the time.”

“That’s not how I feel.” The skin around Dylan’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Whether I make food just for myself or for both of us really doesn’t make a difference.”

“Okay.” Raffo nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Dylan held a hand in front of her mouth as she suppressed a yawn. “Being here on my own the past two weeks has made me accustomed to an after-lunch nap.”

“A topless after-lunch nap, if I remember correctly.” And how could I ever forget, Raffo didn’t say out loud. While she deemed it appropriate to admire Dylan’s supreme physique from a safe distance, brazen flirting was far from proper behavior. She’d probably already said too much, although it was just a joke and it was such a pleasure to see Dylan break out into a chuckle like that in response.

“You got me,” Dylan said.

“I won’t walk in on you this time. I promise.”

“Good to know.” Dylan didn’t make to get up.

“It goes without saying that I’ll take care of the dishes and your kitchen will be spotless when you come down from your nap.” Raffo wasn’t too fond of doing dishes either—of any housework, really—but cleaning up after Dylan cooking for her hardly felt like a chore.

“Thank you.” Dylan rose from her chair.

Raffo’s gaze was immediately drawn to the smooth curve of her thighs, which were now at table level. She quickly cast her eyes upward. “Have an excellent nap.”

As Dylan walked inside the house, Raffo considered that just being able to think of Dylan as a smoking hot lady was infinitely better than the coldness that had settled inside her heart since Mia had dumped her. Moreover, it was perfectly innocent, just a little indulgence which, really, was to be enjoyed as much as possible just for the sheer miracle of it existing at all.

She cleared the table while trying very hard not to think of Dylan sleeping upstairs with her breasts bared to the crisp Big Bear air.

CHAPTER 7

For the past weeks, Dylan had been listening to financial advice podcasts, hoping to pick up some sort of miraculous tip that could help her make up for the money she’d lost. All these podcasts had accomplished, however, was to put her swiftly to sleep. As though her brain rejected any talk of money and chose to switch off at the sound of it.

As she crawled into bed, her AirPods already in her ears out of habit, she remembered an ad she’d seen recently—she couldn’t recall where—for steamy audiobooks read by big-name actors. She’d wondered at the time, perhaps prudishly, what times they were living in that this was now a thing. She can’t have been that uptight about it, however, because she had promptly downloaded the app, although she hadn’t listened to anything on it yet. She opened it on her phone and scrolled through the options.

Those really were some big names. Elisa Fox. Stella Flack. Brian Walsh and ooh, Ida Burton. For the life of her, Dylan could not resist Ida Burton. There had definitely been a time in her life when she’d wished she was Ida Burton, although, like every other person on the planet, Dylan hadn’t known that the magnificent Ida Burton had locked herself into a big, old Hollywood closet all that time. But none of that mattered anymore. Ida Burton was out and proud now and married to Faye Fleming. Dylan downloaded the story read by Ida Burton hoping for some sultry sapphic content to accompany her nap. Neither the app, nor the story, and least of all Ida, let her down.

Dylan didn’t sleep a wink—how could she with Ida Burton whispering sentences like that straight into her ears? She’d need to dive straight into the lake to cool off. She slipped into her bikini and headed downstairs.

What she saw there was even better than Ida’s sensual crooning in her ears.

Raffo stood in front of a canvas that was decidedly not blank. She was staring at it intently, paintbrush in hand. Dylan didn’t want to disturb her, but she also didn’t want to spy on her. Either way, she couldn’t look away if she tried.

She cleared her throat to announce herself.