I have no idea what had gotten into me. I should have done it on his boat, or even gone back to his house and done it, gotten it done and over with, and yet I'd hesitated, come up with an excuse. But he didn't object.

He didn't object… what did it mean?

I lay in bed early the following morning, shaking my head, calling myself all kinds of stupid. I had lied to Wyatt about having to work this morning. What if he called the diner and checked? What the hell was wrong with me? My whole plan had been to get it done and then move on, and yet, I found myself stalling. Why? And why had he allowed me to? Could I change my mind? No, the deal was done on a handshake. I had to go through with it or my dad would be right back in jail. God only knew how long it would take for him to go to trial or pretrial or whatever the hell it was. His bail could be revoked on a whim, and I had no doubt that Wyatt knew people in the right places and could accomplish such a deed without even blinking.

Which also brought me to the point that I had been avoiding since my dad's arrest. What exactly was going on with him? Had he done what he was accused of doing? We needed to talk. He needed to lay all his cards on the table and tell me the truth. No matter how much it hurt, no matter what kind of feelings it brought up, no matter if he was embarrassed or not. Either he was innocent or he wasn't. I needed to know.

But right now, I—

I heard the front door open and close softly. I hadn't heard any movement from my parents' bedroom, no sounds of movement in the kitchen. Then I remembered. It was Sunday. I sat up in bed, my covers dropping to my waist, prepared to throw the covers back and step out of bed, my well-worn and comfortable oversized T-shirt and man's boxer shorts slightly twisted around me. I heard quick footsteps bouncing down the hallway and smiled. Sadie. She had this funny way of walking quietly, almost tiptoeing, but half bouncing. How many times I heard that over the years when we had sleepovers, when she overstayed her curfew, or when we got up early in the morning, heading to the living room to watch cartoons and not wake up my parents?

I grinned as Sadie opened my bedroom door and peeked her head inside, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining with excitement. She quickly slipped in and closed the door behind her. I wasn't surprised to see her. Every Sunday – we both took Sunday breakfast shift off if possible - and ever since my mom had gotten sick, she'd come over to the house to make breakfast on Sunday mornings. Scrambled eggs and bacon, or waffles with sausages, or sometimes, something crazy, like green oatmeal and toast. It didn't matter. It was practically a tradition now.

My parents had always liked Sadie and vice versa. She came and went at will, as I did at her house a few blocks away. Anyway, Sadie was a welcome familiarity in our house. The Sunday morning deal, or brunch, really, was typically served at ten o'clock, and then Sadie and I would just hang out until the dinner shift at the diner started. Just like the good old days.

"So, what happened?" Sadie asked, leaping to my bed and tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "I want the details, and I mean every single juicy detail!"

"Well, nothing happened in that department," I began. "We went out on his yacht—"

Sadie clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, muffling a squeal. I could tell she was excited, happy for me, maybe even a bit envious, as I certainly would be if this was happening to her. But I already knew that today's brunch was different, and that Sadie had come early because she wanted to know all the details about my date with Wyatt last night.

"While I could describe every inch of his beautiful boat and I could tell you again how handsome he is, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Sadie, but we didn't do it last night. I chickened out."

"You chickened out? What do you mean? Did he make a move? Did you?"

I felt a small frown mar my forehead. "No, come to think of it, neither of us did. I was enjoying myself, but the thought of having to… well, you know… I was pushing the thought out of my head. I've never been on a yacht before and I think he was trying to just enjoy the evening as well. He drove over to the resort, and we had dinner, then we went back to his boat, and…"

"Riley, please don't tell me that you're having second thoughts about all this." She paused. "Well, not that you should've done it in the first place, but now that you've committed, I thought… do you think he fell for it, you're playing hard to get?"

I shook my head, slightly impatient. "I'm not trying… I'm not supposed to be the one that's hard to get, Sadie. Did you forget that I'm the one that suggested this whole thing in the first place? All I said was I chickened out and I meant it. I was having a nice time, and although I do have to admit that he's certainly not hard to look at, I just… didn't just want to jump on him, you know?"

Sadie looked at me as if I was nuts.

"You didn't even kiss? No petting? No groping? No physical contact whatsoever?"

She sounded so disbelieving that I paused to think about it. My eyes widening, a cold feeling rushing through me, I looked at my best friend and knew that she would tell me the truth whether I wanted to hear it or not. "Maybe I just don't appeal to him, Sadie. Maybe he doesn't want to touch me. Maybe he doesn't want to—"

"Then why would he invite you out, not once, but twice?" she scoffed. "Why even agree to the deal? Why invite you for a sunset boat ride to an exclusive resort, buy you nice dinners and—"

"Maybe he's just being nice?"

Sadie snorted again. "From what I've been reading, Wyatt Cross is not nice. Reading between the lines, getting onto some social media, and talking to a few friends - don't worry, I haven't mentioned one word about you - I gather that the guy is quite aggressive and sometimes even cutthroat when it comes to business and finances. He's foreclosed on quite a few properties in the area over the past year or two. He's a playboy, a player, a cad, and to be quite blunt, he can be quite a pig about it too." She shook her head, plucking at a piece of imaginary lint on her jeans. "Riley, I think I gave you bad advice."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I suggested that you play his game, string him along, I was wrong. You're not that experienced with men—" She held up a hand to halt a protest. "Be honest. Neither of us are that experienced with men, and certainly not a man like Wyatt Cross. I don't know what he's up to, but I don't want you to string him along or to play coy. It might just make him mad and you'll end up getting the short end of the stick."

I shook my head, not wanting to believe it. The Wyatt Cross I had met was, so far, behaving like a gentleman. While I had sensed an amusement beneath the surface, I kind of understood that. How often did a man like him get such a proposition? Then again, what made me think that deflowering a virgin would have any appeal for him? Suddenly, I felt foolish, naïve, and more than a little stupid.

"What I'm saying, honey, is that I think you need to conclude this deal as soon as possible. Wyatt Cross will keep his word, of that I'm sure. While some people don't like him, and he has a reputation of being an aggressive prick, he is known to keep his word. He will keep his word about the money."

I said nothing, knowing that at least that part was true. The money was already in the bag, or some of it was. And my father was back home.

"Do you have any details about your father's arrest?" she continued, her voice softer now. "Is this all this worth it, Riley? Do you think it's even possible that your father will go to trial?"

Did I? I had no idea. While I certainly wanted to think that my father was innocent, I wasn't sure. Shame on me, but I wasn't sure. My daddy told me that he'd been framed at work, and I took what he said at face value. To even doubt him filled me with a sense of guilt and shame, but his unwillingness to discuss the details had left me wondering.

"You don't have to worry about me, Riley," Sadie said. "You know that I'll keep your secret until the day I die. I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to jump from the frying pan into the fire."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"