“Wow, for being rich and famous you sure don’t know a lot. Didn’t anyone teach you not to ask a woman her age?”
He lowered the glass slowly to his lap. “Rich and famous?”
I motioned at him with my glass. “Maybe not the famous part, but rich, yeah. That’s pretty obvious.”
He braced his arms on his thighs. “Judge much?”
“You drive a hundred-thousand-dollar car, what more do I need to know?”
“Maybe I’m leasing it,” he suggested, one brow in the air.
“You wear Patagonia like I wear Columbia. The vest you’re wearing is nearly two hundred bucks alone, and we won’t mention how much the cashmere sweater under it costs. You’re wearing Gucci jeans and your boots probably cost more than my electric bill for the year. I would bet my camp that your closet at home is stuffed full of Armani suits.”
“I have a few,” he said, without apologizing. “For the record, the car wasn’t my idea and I’m getting rid of it when I get back to the city. Is it fun to drive? Yeah, in the summer, but it’s useless in the winter. We won’t even talk about the tires. Give me a Ford any day of the week.”
“Humble beginnings and all that?” I asked, my voice filled with laughter.
His lips puttered as he blew through them. “Nah, old money. I’d still rather have a Ford. They make more sense in this part of the country. What do you drive?”
“A Ford,” I answered, starting to giggle. “I bought a new SUV last year and retired my truck for work around here.”
“Wait, you own this place? You’re awfully young to own a resort.”
He absently rubbed Beast’s head tenderly. The dog had clearly won him over after their rocky beginnings. He liked my dog. Note made.
“I bought it on a land contract, but the couple passed away and left it to me in their will. This was their home. I own it free and clear now.”
“It’s a beautiful home, and the camp has to be worth plenty in just the land.”
“Oh, I’m a millionaire a few times over, but that’s because I don’t drive a hundred-thousand-dollar car, I wear Columbia and not Patagonia, and I never waste a thing.”
He raised a well-groomed brow at me and I wanted to melt into the seat. It did nothing but ratchet up his sexiness to the next level. “Because if you did you wouldn’t be a millionaire?”
“As you know, running a business is expensive. Technically I’m a millionaire, but my money is tied up in the camp. I would have to sell in order to get most of the money out of it. Sure, I’m comfortable here, but other than living expenses, which are few, my money goes back into the business in one way or the other. It’s the reason I can keep it successful year after year. I have staff to pay, equipment to replace, and cabins to continually update and repair.”
“You have staff here? I haven’t seen anyone but you this week.”
“They don’t work this time of year. I can handle the months of November and December alone due to the holidays. Once the first of the year rolls around, my cleaning crew will come back, and once spring hits, the rest of the crew. It’s a way to save on expenses during the quiet time of the year.” I shrugged and sighed. “Besides, after a long summer, I need peace and quiet. Sometimes you need a break from being the boss, if you know what I mean.”
His head fell backward and he laughed. “Oh, trust me, I know. Your plan makes good business sense, though,” he agreed, his foot wagging as he crossed it over his knee.
“And you would know good business.”
“Some would say so,” he agreed.
I scrunched up my nose. “I will say, the name Hayes Rutherford the Fourth does scream of old money.”
There was sheepishness reflected back at me from behind his stylish spectacles. “Now you see why I use a different name whenever I can. My real one makes me sound sort of,” he paused, his hand motioning around in the air.
“Old? Stuffy? Pretentious?”
“All of the above,” he agreed, laughter evident in his voice.
“Well, Mr. Rutherford, you’re definitely not old or stuffy.”
He groaned, but there was underlying laughter. “Please, I beg you, call me Hayes.”
I held up my hand. “Okay, Hayes. Though, I have to say, there are a few other names I call you in my head.”
Like Mr. Yummy.
A brow curved up from under his black frames. “I’m afraid to ask, so I won’t.”
“Likely a good idea. Any prospects for Hayes Rutherford the Fifth?” A zap of electricity ran through my arm and I grabbed it, rubbing absently where the scar ran across it.
“Arm bothering you?” He set his glass down and leaned forward.
“A little.” I shrugged and tucked my arm back in my sleeve. “Justice doesn’t appreciate the low-pressure systems that roll in during the winter.” I motioned at my neck in the forget it motion.
“Justice?” he asked curiously.
I grasped my elbow and held it close to my body. The pain wasn’t lessening and it was all I could do to breathe until the nerves stopped firing. “I named it Justice.” I noticed my voice was shaky, and I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The pain was difficult to control when it got like this. My only choices were to wait it out, ignore it, or drink. If it kept up, I might go with option number three.
“Why?”
“I guess because Justice is always served, one way or the other.”
Several expressions ran across his face before he spoke. “Maybe now would be a good time to tell me what happened. Were you in the service?” He stood and tossed another log on the fire. Sparks flew into the air and the log charred when the fire licked its way up the wood. His body moved in the way you’d expect a runner’s body to move.
Graceful. Elegant. Controlled.
I would never get to see or feel the body he hid under the cashmere. I would never run my hand through his beard. I would never run my hand through the hair on his chest and across his hard pecs to tease his taut nipples. I would never rest my hand on his sinewy hip to tease and taunt him with the proposition of sex in the afternoon. I would never … I shouldn’t want to … but I did. I wanted it so much I whimpered a little at the thought of what I was missing out on. There was so much to explore and learn about Hayes Rutherford. Who was he? What made him tick? Why was he hot one minute and cold the next? Why was he hiding at my camp instead of home running his business? I had so many questions and I wondered why. I’d lived here a long time and never once cared about the life of anyone who walked through my door. Why now? Why him of all people? I shook the thoughts from my head.
Stop, Mercy. You’ll never get the chance to know what makes Hayes tick, all due to the very thing he won’t stop asking questions about.
“Not a day in my life,” I answered truthfully. I held Justice up. “Shark bite. It got infected and they had to amputate.” Okay, so part of that was true.
“Shark bite,” he repeated slowly.
“Freak thing.”
“No prosthetic?”
“Nope, don’t need one.”
A sexy, well-groomed brow went up again. “Because?”
“Because I don’t,” I answered firmly, changing the subject. “What are you doing way out here anyway? I haven’t seen you leave the cottage, except to go running, the entire four days you’ve been here. This is a fishing camp.”
He took another drink and gave me his wolf in sheep’s clothing smile. “I’m not here to fish, Mercy. I’m working on a project that requires total immersion and silence.”
“It’s not illegal, is it?” Concern laced my tone at the idea of it.
“No, it’s not illegal. I wanted to unplug and get away from the office, that’s all.”
“Unplug,” I said, nodding, “while demanding wi-fi.”
He laughed at my accurate observation and pointed at me with one long, slim, manicured finger. “Touché. I need the internet, but not the constant interruptions of being at the office. I do need to get out and stret
ch my legs at least once during the day, so I run on the lake. Maybe tomorrow I’ll make it all the way around, unless they’re calling for snow again.” He stared intently at Justice, which I held tight to my belly with my other hand.
“Not that I heard. I hope not since I plan to take a few hours off and go hunting.”
“Hunting,” he repeated and I nodded, “for deer? The season is over.”
“Not for bowhunting. That season goes through January.”
“Bowhunting?” He eyed Justice again in disbelief.
“Believe it or not, I can still hunt with a bow. They make these things called crossbows.”
“I know what a crossbow is,” he said sarcastically.
“Then you know I don’t need two hands to use one. Have you ever had venison before?” I expected the answer to be a resounding no.
“Yes, and elk, moose, and caribou.” I raised a brow and he chuckled. “My dad. He loved to big game hunt in different parts of the country. Alaska was his favorite place to be. It was never my cup of tea, but he loved it.”
“I can’t say I love it,” I said, shrugging uncomfortably. “I do it out of necessity. If I get a nice sized deer, the meat will feed me for the winter.”
“The millionaire is worried about the price of meat,” he said, his eyebrow tucked to his nose.
“No, more like the accessibility of it. As you know, I’m hours from the closest town with a decent store. I make a trip once in the winter and the rest of my supplies come in via box truck from my vendor. They don’t carry meat. They carry pop, candy, frozen pizza, and minnows.”
He finished the wine in his glass and shook his head. “You’re not that far from town, Mercy. In fact, Cashmere Creek has a grocery store.”
“They do, but I’m allergic to people. At least if I get a deer or two, I don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the year.”
He laughed casually and his body language was much more relaxed after the wine. “Allergic to people. The frightening part is, I completely understand what you mean. People give me hives right now.”
I was silent and didn’t respond, choosing to finish the wine in my glass instead.
“But hey, at least you have all the fish you can eat.”
I set the glass on the side table and tucked a leg under me. “I’m not a big fan of fish. The only kind I like is walleye, and Mr. Boling always keeps me supplied with those. In fact, he gave me a pack tonight. I can’t wait to eat them over Christmas break.”
“You don’t have family here for Christmas?” he asked, his head tipped to the side.
“I don’t have any family, Hayes. My parents are dead and I had no siblings. My best friend, Ciara, has a family of her own and lives twelve hours away. Besides, Christmas is the one day a year I get to sleep as late as I want to and do whatever I want to, which doesn’t include snowplowing, for the whole day. Netflix movies all day long while drinking wine in my pajamas? Yes, please.”
He laughed that sexy, deep, unequivocally panty dropping sound that made me wet just sitting there. “When you put it that way, it sounds pretty damn good.”
“I assume you have Christmas dinner with Hayes Rutherford the Second and Third, as well as your girlfriend? Wife?”
“Only the Third and Fourth are still alive and there is no girlfriend or wife. I’ve made certain there won’t be a Hayes Rutherford the Fifth either, unless I change my mind.”
What the hell does that mean, I thought.
“TMI much?”
He groaned and held up his glass. “Sorry, too much of this stuff tends to loosen my lips a little too much. Give me a bottle of vodka and I can walk a straight line, but a glass of red wine and I’m falling down drunk.”
“For some reason, I can’t picture well-put-together Hayes Rutherford falling down drunk. What are your family plans for the holiday?”
“My mom always makes a Christmas ham that is dry and tastes like you ate cloves straight out of the bag, my brother acts put out because his name isn’t Hayes Rutherford, and my sister’s kids run around stealing sugar cookies and screaming until we can’t take any more screaming and yelling, and start screaming and yelling.”
“Oof, I’ll take my Christmas plans, thanks,” I joked.
“I don’t blame you,” he said simply. He stood and picked up his plate and mine. “I suppose I should get out of your hair and back to work. Thanks for dinner and the conversation. I don’t get to do it enough.”
I stood and grabbed our empty wine glasses one-handed. “No thanks needed, since you did the cooking,” I reminded him. I set the glasses on the counter and followed him to the back door. “Next time, it’s my turn.”
He paused at the door after he’d thrown his parka on. “Do you have plans tomorrow night? I know you’ll be back from hunting by dark.”
I held out my hand at the empty, dark, cold night. “Not like I have a rocking social calendar around here. Should we say seven?” I asked, wondering what the hell I was doing inviting him back to my house for dinner.
“Seven is perfect.” He gave me a smile that tested what little resolve I had left in me to keep him out of my camp, and my bed. “I’ll bring the wine, since I have several untouched bottles at my cabin,” he explained, probably because my expression was that of curiosity.
I leaned against the door frame and smiled. “I’ll be ready.”
He leaned in, kissed my cheek, and walked away nonchalantly as though he wasn’t ruining me for every other man on the planet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HAYES
I flopped to my side and stared at the cabin wall. This wasn’t a new thing. I’d been staring at the opposite cabin wall for more than two hours already. It was 2 a.m. and I hadn’t slept, at all, despite attempting it for the last two hours. I was wound tighter than a drum since I’d left Mercy’s cabin. I couldn’t tell you why. Actually, I could. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. Never, in my thirty-five years of life, had I ever been undeniably drawn to a woman the way I was to Mercy. It was freaking me out.
Why? Simple. She wasn’t the kind of woman a Rutherford man would normally look twice at, much less have dinner with, twice. She was the kind of woman my grandfather would have said was beneath me. Sad to think, and even more brutal to say aloud. My father, he would have seen Mercy as someone I could be friends with but nothing more. He was only half as snobby as his father, but he still had a long way to go with acceptance of people below what he considered to be his social and economic class. His faults were many, but none of them mattered to me now. It had been three months and the pain in my chest hadn’t lessened even the tiniest bit whenever I thought about him. When I told Mercy only Hayes Rutherford Three and Four remained, it had been a lie. I struggled with saying aloud that I was the only Hayes Rutherford left on this earth. Saying it, letting that pain out of my chest, was like admitting it was true and therefore being forced to accept it.
I closed my eyes and my head filled with her again. Her blonde hair that I always wanted to run my fingers through, and her bottomless mahogany eyes that drew me in and held me in her life. She was sexy and smart, but she was also wholesome and innocent. Maybe not in the way most people define innocent, but she was. She was an innocent victim of something. I could see that much every time I looked into her eyes. Every time I touched her. Every time she’d look away when the intensity of her desires overpowered her. She might not be the ideal woman for most men I know, but she did something to my insides no other woman had before. Her willowy body teased me from start to finish. When we were together, I couldn’t tear my gaze from her.
Any part of her.
All of her.
The way she moved.
The way her bottom swayed with every step.
She was grace and sex mixed together until you couldn’t separate the two.
Her arm, the one she called Justice, was pain, terror, and strength. It was always there to remind her, and me, of the cruelty of life.
I knew one th
ing, whatever the real story was, it wasn’t a shark bite. Her nickname for the arm was enough to tell me that. Whatever happened inexplicably changed her life forever, and not just in the obvious way. It changed her intrinsically. She no longer trusted anyone, much less a man, lest someone hurt her again. No matter how Justice came to be, the only shark involved in the situation walked on two legs. Of that, I had no doubt.
I let out a loud groan and stared up at the ceiling. This was the reason I was well aware Mercy was unlike any woman I’d ever been with before. I’d never spent this much time trying to figure out a woman. I’d never cared about a woman past their physical attributes or what advantages they brought to the family name before. I didn’t care whether a woman was happy when spending time with me, it was always just a given in my mind. I was Hayes Rutherford the Fourth, next in line to inherit a multinational company. Check that. I just inherited a multinational and multibillion-dollar company. I was handsome and rich, so what woman wouldn’t want to be on my arm on a Friday night. Mercy, that’s who. She would rather I packed my shit up and drove away from her camp. She would rather I wiped her from my mind while she did the same. That wasn’t going to happen. When I drove away from this camp, I would be forever changed by her. I would be changed by her fortitude, her dedication, and her pain.
I threw my legs over the bed, and pulled on a warm pair of sleep pants and a sweatshirt before I headed back into the main room to stoke the fire. Once it crackled and snapped with ferocity again, I started a pot of coffee and opened my laptop. If I couldn’t sleep, I might as well do something productive. The insomnia wasn’t new. I hadn’t slept more than two or three hours a night for the last three months. Fatigue had become my permanent state in life to the point I accepted it as normal now. I was never one to sleep in or laze around, but I used to get eight hours every night. Now, even while exercising, taking care of myself, eating right, and meditating, I couldn’t find that kind of sleep. It was suggested I try medication, but I was resistant to that idea. There were too many risks as far as I was concerned. Besides, I didn’t need medication. I needed to let the pain of the last three months go so I could start to heal. Unfortunately, that was far easier to say than to do.
The Secrets Between Us (Billionaire CEO Romance) Page 5
