Loving Her Nemesis

by Zoe Ann Wood

  Loving Her Nemesis

  Hidden Hollows Book 6

  Zoe Ann Wood

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More from Sweet Heart Books

  1

  Jade

  Jade picked up her cat from the counter and placed him on the floor.

  “You know you’re not allowed up here,” she muttered at Felix, watching his black butt sashay into the living room.

  She poured hot water over the tea leaves in her teapot and glanced out the window at the darkening sky. After a long day at school, she’d spent her afternoon preparing the materials she’d need for the band practice next week. She was ready to stretch out her legs in front of the TV and put on a romantic comedy to relax.

  A light appeared at the window of the Williams house, winking out again a second later. Jade set the kettle down with a clack and narrowed her eyes.

  Her first thought, of course, was ghosts.

  The Williams house was haunted, or so the townspeople liked to say to discourage children from breaking inside. As a kid, she’d been afraid of going into the neighboring yard after dark, and even now, a shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

  She stood still, watching the looming shape of the old Victorian. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it, but then it blinked again, the beam of a flashlight in the night.

  Quickly, she drew the curtains on her kitchen window and dimmed the lights. Living in her grandparents’ old house at the edge of the town meant she usually had all the privacy she needed, and she’d gotten used to having her curtains wide open. But now, standing in an illuminated room, she suddenly felt exposed. Anyone could be looking in, while she’d be unaware of them.

  She tapped her fingers on the counter, debating what to do. Then she grabbed her phone and found the police station’s number in her contacts. This situation didn’t warrant a 911 call, but whoever was in the neighboring house was trespassing. In a small town like Hidden Hollows, the crime rate was low. Still, she refused to become a cautionary tale about single women living alone in a remote location.

  As the phone rang, a trickle of doubt formed in her mind. Maybe it was just someone who needed a dry place to sleep? It was still warm during the days, but September nights got pretty cold this close to the Smoky Mountains. So what if someone spent a night or two out there? They weren’t bothering anyone.

  “Hidden Hollows police station, this is Gordon speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Um.” Jade peered through a gap in the curtains. “This is Jade Marshall. I live down Oak Lane?” She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she make that sound like a question? Pull it together. “I saw lights in the Williams house. My house is right next to it, and I thought someone might have broken in. They’ve got a flashlight.”

  “Mm-hm,” the deputy replied. “When was this?”

  “Just now,” she said. “I mean, maybe it’s nothing. But if it’s kids, they might hurt themselves exploring. The house is so run down, and I’m not sure it’s safe for them to be in there.”

  “I know, ma’am, we get complaints about it all the time. The mayor thinks it should be torn down, but the owners refuse to do anything about it.”

  Jade stifled her smile even though the policeman couldn’t see her. The mayor was a force to be reckoned with, and from his voice, she understood that this was a pressure point for the police department.

  “Okay, I just thought I’d let you know,” she said.

  The officer hummed again. “I’ll tell the sheriff to take a look.”

  Jade thanked him, relieved. At least he took her call seriously and didn’t brush it off. Maybe they were having a slow night, or perhaps this was just how the police department ran. Jade didn’t know—she tended to keep her head down and avoid most town business.

  So why was she reporting on some unimportant incident in a house that wasn’t even her own?

  Maybe I’m turning into my mother.

  The thought was enough to propel her into motion. She poured herself a cup of tea and took it into the living room, curling up on the couch. If there was one thing she hated, it was gossip, and she refused to fuel the Hidden Hollows rumor mill. Her mother had always avidly disseminated any news she’d heard, and Jade had promised herself she wouldn’t become like her.

  She regretted calling the police station already. Maybe she should go to the Williams house and warn whoever it was? She didn’t want them to get into trouble.

  But minutes later, a car engine driving up the street announced the sheriff’s arrival. That was fast. Jade pursed her lips, trying to curb her curiosity. She didn’t need to know who the trespasser was. She was just a concerned citizen. Being responsible wasn’t a crime.

  Why did she feel so guilty then? Was this the adult equivalent of being a tattletale?

  Her curiosity won in the end. She crept to the window of the living room and tugged the curtains aside an inch to peek out.

  No blue lights flashed for a casual sweep of the neighborhood—the shiny police cruiser parked under a streetlight. Luke St. Clair, the sheriff, stepped out of the vehicle and put his ever-present cowboy hat on his head. Jade smirked. How very Wild West of him.

  She liked the gruff sheriff, though. He’d always been a fair man, but ever since Millie Thornton rolled into town earlier that year, his once-grumpy demeanor had improved exponentially. And since Millie was one of the few people in town who didn’t know Jade from when she was little, it was easier to chat with her when she visited her bakery for a weekly red velvet cupcake.

  In this town, everyone knew their neighbors. The fact that she currently didn’t have any was just about the only thing that allowed her to keep her sanity. This was why she hadn’t sold her grandparents’ old house when she’d returned to her hometown, licking her wounds. This little nook at the edge of town was as far away from the usual watering places of the worst gossips as possible.

  Jade shook herself out of her thoughts and followed the sheriff’s progress toward the Williams house. The estate was large, the overgrown front garden cut in half by a gravel path. Jade knew the backyard was huge and had both an orchard and a water lily pond and a beautiful swing on an oak tree where she’d sometimes played as a kid. Her grandparents scolded her every time she’d gone into that yard, though, so she’d stopped. She’d always been a rule follower.

  The sheriff arrived at the porch and ascended the steps slowly. They were rotted through, so he was likely just being careful. Jade sighed and glanced down at the chipped countertop in her kitchen. She was so behind on her renovation plan—it wasn’t even funny. When she turned back, the sheriff was at the front door of the hold house, knocking, his cowboy hat tucked beneath one arm.

  She held her breath, peering into the night. It was too dark to see well at such a distance, and the porch of the old house was obscured by an ancient oak that hadn’t lost its leaves yet.

  The door opened, and a man appeared in front of the sheriff. His flashlight was on, hiding his face in shadow. Jade moved closer to the window, straining her eyes. Who was he? He was as tall as the sheriff, but that was all she could make out.

  The two men spoke for a minute, and then the sheriff shook the stranger’s hand.


  What?

  Jade leaned so close to the window that her nose touched the glass. The owners of the house, an elderly couple from Knoxville, never bothered to visit their run-down property. And besides, Mr. Williams was a stooped, wizened old man, not this tall person standing in the doorway.

  Yet the sheriff put on his hat again and left, raising his hand in farewell. He got in his car and drove away, his car’s tail-lights flashing red in the darkness.

  Jade glanced back toward the house. The man remained in the doorway, one hand on the screen door to hold it open. And he was looking at her.

  She ducked, letting the curtain fall into place, and banged her knee on her grandmother’s decorative end table.

  “Ow,” she yelped, then covered her mouth with her hand.

  She slid to the floor, her back to the wall, and closed her eyes. Ugh. Now the man, whoever he was, likely knew she’d been the one to call the cops on him. It was something her mother would have done, and she now regretted placing the call. Especially since the sheriff had obviously concluded the man had every right to be at the house, which could only mean one thing: this was her new neighbor.

  Jade crawled to the opposite side of the room and flicked the light switch to plunge the room into darkness. Whatever plans she had of watching television, they would have to wait. She wouldn’t be comfortable knowing that a stranger was staring at her sheer living room curtains—at night, he could likely see everything she was doing.

  She’d have to get thicker curtains. And maybe plant a hedge to make a barrier between the two yards. Jade paused, thinking. Would the town council throw a fit if she put up an eight-foot fence all around her property?

  Not that she had the money for such an investment. She was slowly renovating the house, and her to-do list didn’t include building fences or planting hedges.

  She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Whoever her new neighbor was, she’d have to deal with him like an adult. She was no longer the timid girl she’d been in her childhood. She wouldn’t allow this newcomer to disrupt the quiet life she’d built for herself since returning to Hidden Hollows. So what if he moved into the house next door? That didn’t concern her. She would be civil and polite, and he would soon see that she preferred to keep to herself.

  She had her hand on the light switch to turn the lights back on. Then she looked at Felix, who was lazily licking his hind leg. He didn’t seem to mind the darkness.

  “Let’s just call it a night, okay?” she muttered.

  She would be brave tomorrow, but for today, she shortened her evening routine, brushed her teeth, and retreated to her bedroom. The window there looked to the other side, where a long meadow stretched on from her yard to meet the forest that hugged the town.

  Tomorrow, she might even go over and apologize for assuming the worst of her new neighbor. She nudged Felix off her bed with her foot. He meowed in protest before curling up on the armchair in the corner of the room. Jade burrowed under the covers with her historical romance and allowed herself to pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

  2

  Ben

  Morning dew clung to Ben’s work boots as he made his way from his trailer to the wreck of a house, at seven in the morning. He’d bought his little home on wheels several years ago, and it had been the best investment he’d ever made. It allowed him the freedom of going where he pleased, and it held everything a man could need, apart from a shower.

  The grass under his feet was still green, though that wouldn’t last for long. It was overgrown and rustled under his feet, and he hoped it was too cold for snakes. He hated those slithering buggers. All sorts of wild animals tended to make old houses and neglected yards their homes. He’d once had to re-home an entire family of raccoons from a house in Georgia. He’d take furry vermin over scaly any day, though. He stepped over what looked like a small gooseberry bush and stopped to assess the house in front of him.

  Years had not been kind to the large Victorian. She was still a beauty, with a turret in the back and a porch that wrapped around the side. The gabled windows were broken, but in Ben’s mind, it had unlimited potential.

  If his father saw it, he’d call him crazy. Yet Ben had taken houses in worse condition and flipped them successfully. This one would be a challenge, but that was exactly what he needed to take his mind off the fact that he was back in Hidden Hollows, the town he’d escaped as soon as he’d received his high school diploma.

  Hands in his pockets, he trudged around the property, seeing it in broad daylight for the first time in years. When he’d been a teenager, he’d been aware of the boarded-up house at the edge of town. The rumor was that it was haunted by the ghost of a sad widow, who’d lost her husband in some long-finished war. Others said it was a man who’d murdered his mistress.

  Ben didn’t put much stock in such tales, but he did appreciate them for a simple reason: when he’d put in a bid for the house, the owners didn’t even try to bargain with him. They’d accepted the offer on the spot when they likely could have gotten a lot more for it. Hidden Hollows was a little gem of a town that lay close enough to the Smoky Mountains that tourists often passed through. If his instincts were correct, the area would develop rapidly in the coming years. Buying property now would make him a nice pile of money in the future.

  The knowledge that this was a sound business investment was almost enough to make him forget why he’d returned to the town in the first place. He glanced at his phone. He had time to assess the inside of the Victorian before his father’s doctor’s appointment.

  With a grumble, he climbed the steps leading to the back door of the house, careful not to put his foot through the rotten wood. Most of the boards would need replacing because they hadn’t been taken care of, but the house was structurally sound. He always had an architect inspect any old home he was considering—if a house was destroyed to its core, eaten through by termites or suffering from water damage, no amount of fresh paint and lacquer would fix it.

  This one had “great bones that were hidden beneath layers of bad wallpaper and bird droppings,” as Austin Hayes, the architect, had eloquently put it. The back door creaked as Ben opened it. The kitchen had probably been re-done two decades before his birth, and the tap didn’t even drip when he tried it. Peering under the sink and into the bathroom, he concluded he’d need to have the water turned off to lay new pipes. The state of the old ones was…not good.

  To most people, the state of the house would be a turn-off, too horrible to be worth the effort. To Ben, however, it was a challenge. It had so much untapped potential. New houses rarely had such charm, and modern architects didn’t often allow themselves the whimsy that resulted in sweeping staircases and white gingerbread trim on the porch.

  No, this house wasn’t going to be forgotten and neglected any longer. Ben ran his hand over the banister, ascending the stairs to the first floor. Something fluttered overhead, and he ducked instinctively as a sparrow came darting out of a broken cupboard. It flitted through a broken windowpane and was gone an instant later, disappearing into the sky. Ben studied the cupboard. It was empty, so who knew what the sparrow was doing there. It was too late in the year for eggs or fledglings. But he could deal with birds.

  The hardwood floors were covered by a layer of wind-blown leaves, twigs, and other debris, liberally mixed with… Ben looked down at his shoes. Architect Austin hadn’t been wrong about the bird droppings. He’d need to change before going into town anyway, so a little filth didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the awful wallpaper lining the walls. He supposed the color might once have been salmon or coral, but it was now a faded orange with little flamingos printed on it. He ran his fingers over it and chuckled. It might work for a kids’ room, but his tastes ran more to neutral colors.

  A flash of movement caught his eye, and he lowered his head again, anticipating another sparrow fly-by. But he realized the room was empty—something had moved outside. Ben stepped closer to the broken
window and looked out.

  A tall brunette exited the house next door and headed toward the small foreign car parked in the driveway. Ben narrowed his eyes. So this was the nosy neighbor who’d called the cops on him. He’d explained his situation to Luke St. Clair, who luckily remembered him from high school. The other man was nothing but polite as he told him that they’d had some trespassers over the years and wished Ben luck with the renovation. The sheriff hadn’t mentioned who had placed the call, but Ben had caught his neighbor peeking through the curtains.

  He’d expected an elderly lady, though. Or a crotchety old man with nothing better to do than sticking his nose in other people’s business.

  This woman, however, was far from elderly. Jury was still out on whether she was crotchety or not.

  Her long hair was swept up in a neat bun, and knee-high brown boots completed her peacoat-and-jeans outfit. She carried a brown satchel slung over her shoulder and opened the back door of the silver car to drop it on the backseat. Then she turned toward his house, and Ben’s breath lodged in his throat.

  Jade Marshall.

  His neighbor, who’d called the cops on him the first night he was in town, was none other than the girl who’d once stood him up during their senior year.

  3

  Jade

  She usually stopped at the bakery on Mondays and Fridays for fresh bread and a treat. But going home would mean potentially seeing her mysterious new neighbor. Jade didn’t want that confrontation just yet, so here she was, on a Wednesday, staring at the beautifully glazed maple bacon donuts in the glass display at Born and Bread.