Alaina stood in the middle of the office, a satisfied smile on her face.

She’d spent the last couple of hours in Lucas’s office, continuing to try to put it in some semblance of order. She’d worked like a demon that morning, preferring to focus on the tidal wave of papers so her thoughts wouldn’t drift to what had happened the night before.

Who was she kidding?

She sighed. She could file and organize paperwork with her eyes closed. Nothing was going to keep her from going back to the kiss she’d shared with Lucas.

She’d had too much to drink. She’d be the first to admit it. Not fall-down drunk, but definitely beyond tipsy. And she readily admitted to herself that she had made the first move.

But he’d responded. Hell yes, had he responded. Butterflies exploded in her stomach as she relived their kiss. The feel of his mouth on hers, his hands sliding down her back, across her stomach…

It had been so long since she’d been touched. Since she’d felt wanted.

That was her fault. She knew this. She’d been so busy with working and trying to prove herself, not just to her father but to an industry dominated by men, that she’d put her personal life on the back burner for years.

She didn’t know why she’d finally broken last night. Sure, they’d shared some intimate details of their lives, and yes, the alcohol definitely had something to do with her lack of inhibition.

But there was something else.

She trusted Lucas. And she was attracted to him. Ridiculously so. The looks he gave her, the words he spoke, the charged atmosphere every time she was near him—all of it created a heady combination of want and desire and outright need.

It was as simple as that.

The door creaked and she whirled around.

Lucas was standing there, his bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was slightly tousled, his cowlick standing almost straight up. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and she wondered what it would feel like to have his cheeks and chin graze her skin.

He smiled. “Hey there.”

She managed what she hoped was a neutral smile, but inside, the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like mad.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, to get her feelings under control. The last thing she needed was for it to be weird, the whole day-after thing. They hadn’t slept together—she’d lamented that after he left, then was grateful they hadn’t, and had just now wished for it again—but the situation still had the potential to be awkward.

Their relationship was supposed to be professional. She’d hired him to perform a service. Kissing her hadn’t been in the contract. And she certainly shouldn’t be wondering what his stubble would feel like against her naked skin.

She was good at compartmentalizing. Focusing on the individual pieces of her life. She needed to do that now.

Like, immediately.

“It looks really good in here,” he said as he stepped inside. He made his way across the room and dropped his bag on his now-clean desktop. “I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made.”

She accepted the compliment with a nod.

He sat down at his desk. Alaina watched him. He looked…unsettled, and her heart started jackhammering again. A flurry of thoughts flooded her, all of them deeply uncomfortable, and all of them shattering her attempt to keep her focus on their professional relationship.

Was he going to bring up last night? Had she misread him? Was he going to tell her that they needed to keep things professional?

Embarrassment flooded her.

“I met Lindsay.”

Her eyes widened. That was not what she’d been expecting. “What? How?”

“I was at Lulu’s,” Lucas said. “I dropped some papers and she picked them up while she was walking by. And then Rosie stopped by my table and we chatted for a bit. Noah came up in conversation. As soon as Rosie went back to the front counter, the girl came back and demanded to know why I was talking about Noah.”

Alaina’s heart was still galloping, but for a different reason this time.

“Did she say anything?” she asked eagerly.

Lucas hesitated, and Alaina marched across the tiny office until she was directly in front of him, with only the desk between them. She wasn’t thinking about kissing him or touching him. She was back to the real reason she’d contacted him in the first place.

“What did she say?” she demanded.

His expression clouded. “Noah killed himself, Alaina.” His voice was soft but adamant.

His words were like a slap to her face. She shook her head, almost as if she were trying to clear her ears. “Excuse me?”

“It was a suicide.”

The words reverberated through her. She folded her arms across her chest, her fingernails snagging on the nubby fabric of her sweater. “How do you know? What did she say?”

He sighed. “It was everything she didn’t say.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lucas was quiet. He picked up a pencil and began to tap it against the desk, and Alaina had to force herself not to lean over and snatch it out of his hands.

“What about the broken lock?” she said. “The dirt on the window ledge? The boot prints by his window?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” he said quietly.

“It proves someone was there!” Her voice sounded unnaturally high, even to her own ears.

“Yes, it does,” Lucas admitted, and Alaina looked at him triumphantly. Her face fell when he added, “But it could’ve been Noah. He might’ve gotten locked out of the house. He might’ve walked over to his window. Busted the lock. Crawled through and left the dirt on the ledge.” His eyes were locked on hers. “It could’ve happened three weeks ago or three months ago.”

“Not the boot prints,” she pointed out desperately.

He shook his head. “No, not the boot prints. Those were probably within the last few weeks. But it’s not enough to go on.”

“So find more!”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know that there is much more.”

Her jaw dropped. She stared at him in disbelief. “So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m not giving up—”

“Yes you are.” Her eyes filled with tears and she furiously wiped them away.

“I’m not giving up.” There was an edge to his voice. “I’m just saying—”

“Don’t parse words with me,” she snapped. “Is this investigation over or not?”

He sighed. “I don’t think there’s anywhere else for it to go.”

She shook her head in disgust. She couldn’t believe what he was telling her. She didn’t want to believe it. But there was no other way to interpret his words.

“Fine,” she clipped.

She looked around the room, finally locating her purse and coat. She stalked toward them, grabbing them both. She didn’t bother putting her coat on. Her emotions were out of control. She had to get out of there.

“Alaina—”

“Don’t!” She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to listen to anything he had to say. “You know, for someone who wants to prove himself, who doesn’t want to be a failure, you’ve done a pretty shitty job.”

Alaina didn’t wait to see any emotion register on his face. She stormed out of the office, making sure she slammed the door hard behind her.

Lucas was giving up.

She swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat and the tears building in her eyes once again. She hurried out to her car, ignoring the man who said hello as she jostled her way past him. He was a guy who’d done work on her last house, a guy relatively new in town, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, to exchange pleasantries.

Her brother was dead. DEAD. And Lucas was giving up on the investigation.

It felt like he was giving up on her, too.

She clicked the key fob on her key ring and yanked her car door open. She hurled herself inside, not even wincing when her elbow smashed into the steering wheel. She deserved it, all the pain.

Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and she let them. Even though they left frigid trails on her skin, she didn’t wipe them away. She sat in the cold car, refusing to turn the ignition, and the heater, on.

She deserved it.

She deserved to suffer.

Because she knew the truth.

She might’ve directed her anger at Lucas, but she knew who she was really mad at.

Herself.

Because she was the one who had given up on Noah all those years ago.

She was the one who had removed herself from his life, who had made herself unavailable despite his repeated attempts to maintain their relationship.

A sob tore from her throat and she slumped forward, her forehead resting on the leather steering wheel.

And she sobbed, a deep heart-wrenching sob that made her ribs ache, as she grappled with that reality.

Noah wasn’t responsible for his death.

She was.