From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two

by Amy Leigh Simpson

  “So, what’s your name, sugar?” Yia-Yia left her cards on the table and lifted the edges—her face trained and perfectly aloof. Years of observing her grandmother’s poker face had helped Joselyn develop and fine tune her own defense mechanism—something that was slipping with the intoxicating charms and devilish good looks of one high school nemesis.

  “Joselyn.” Her throat tightened.

  “Oh, my, what a beautiful name. Then again, it would have to be to suit such a lovely girl.” Tossing in two chips, Yia-Yia waited for Joselyn to kick in and then motioned for the flop. “So tell me about your fella?”

  Joselyn felt her eyes spring wide. “Pardon me?”

  With a smirk, Yia-Yia upped the ante. “I’m an old bitty, so I obviously wasn’t born yesterday. Plus, I can see from the storm behind your eyes that something’s on your mind. A matter of the heart, perhaps?”

  The clarity of her speech alone was miraculous. Joselyn was tempted to page Rosie to get a read on this but feared she’d lose the moment if she broke this connection. She should also change the subject, but she hesitated long enough to think it over. There was so much weighing on her heart about Finn, about their past. Things she had never told Yia-Yia because it would hurt her too much. But while the woman in front of her was her grandmother, she was also a stranger.

  On the turn—the fourth card dealt face up—Yia-Yia threw in a few more chips as well as some gentle prodding. “I’m a great listener. And I tend to be forgetful, so your secrets are safe with me.”

  Releasing a heavy-laden breath—easing the burden of what she was about to say— Joselyn took a moment to pray that she’d made the right decision and then started at the beginning.

  Meeting Finn in the hallway, falling for him a little more each day—the abbreviated version of the events leading up to the prom. “And that’s when his best friend, Cody, approached me about prom. After I turned him down—and he guessed the reason why—he said he could help Finn realize that I was interested so he would ask me. Said Finn was shy and needed some coaxing.”

  And finally Joselyn turned over the river. Round one went to Yia-Yia with two pair. No surprise there.

  With a practiced sweep of her hand, Yia-Yia collected her winnings while Joselyn got to shuffling—like old times. Joselyn smiled at the parade of memories. Thankful that she had some good ones she could call upon for a rainy day.

  “Go on, dear.”

  Oh, boy. Here goes. “But then prom came, and Finn had already asked someone else. Cody showed up at my door that night and offered to take me. And since I already had the dress, I went, barely arriving before the last song of the night.”

  While she spoke about the dance, Joselyn continued shuffling and dealing, glad that something was occupying her hands that started to tremble as the stress of the tumbling words made every part of her ache.

  “… since we’d only made the end of the actual dance, Cody insisted that I accompany him to the after-party at his parents’ house.” Though the Largeman family wasn’t nearly as wealthy as Joselyn’s father, their house was expansive. That had been part of the problem. Too secluded. Sound proof.

  Suddenly, what Joselyn feared most took hold of her. She spoke through the daze as she drifted off on the memory.

  Why did she agree to this?

  Wandering around Cody’s parents’ mansion, amidst a sea of inebriated faces and deafening music, Joselyn wished she could close her eyes and be back at home. Only home at Yia-Yia’s, not at her father’s estate. And since her father wasn’t answering his phone, and she couldn’t seem to find Cody anywhere, she didn’t have a ride home. And calling a cab would be an open invitation for the driver to fabricate some misdeed and make a pretty penny with the tabloids. Happened before which was how she knew the ensuing fallout with her father would be particularly unpalatable. So she did the only thing she could think to do at her helpless juncture. Closed her eyes and wished.

  Only a moment passed until someone crushed her. Literally. Her body crumpling when a tremendous weight squashed her onto the lavish marble floor. Darkness bled through her eyes as the drunken oaf peeled himself off of her and shouted, “Stage dive! That was awesome! Who’s next?”

  Spots of color and light slowly crept back into her vision. Her head was now throbbing from something other than the noise. She winced again as the room stayed on the merry-go-round for another long moment of nauseous agony.

  “You okay?”

  Her heart turned over. She knew that voice. Peeking open one eye, she saw a broad hand extended, and beyond it, a scowling Finn.

  As he came into focus, she noticed his hair was mussed beyond its usual beachy waves, his tie gone, and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Reaching out for help, his warm hand swallowed all the cold in her body with a single touch as he hefted her off the ground.

  How could he have asked that Renee Ross girl? She was a viper. Mean and predatory, and unapologetically so. Was that Finn’s type? Did Joselyn even know him at all?

  The room did another tumultuous turn, and she felt her body sway before another bumper car drunk collided with her backside and shoved her into Finn’s arms. Clinging to him kept her from reuniting with the cold, hard floor. He steadied her, looking down with those deep sea eyes that held her captive day and night.

  His expression softened for a flicker of a moment, and then the glint in his eyes returned them to steel. “Come on. Let’s get you outta this mess.” He led her through several rooms packed with people until he found a less populous area.

  Everything was blurry, and she struggled to concentrate on anything but Finn’s hand in hers. “Finn?”

  “What?” His tone was sharper than she’d ever heard it. He tugged his hand away.

  “I want to go home. And I haven’t seen Cody in an hour. He was acting really weird after we got here.” Feeling like she needed to close her eyes again to concentrate on her words, she let them fall shut, relieved to be able to hide from Finn’s surly look of disdain. What was his problem anyway? “Would you please take me home?”

  Silence stretched longer than seemed natural, so she opened her eyes. The light pierced her skull with a profound pain, and she felt another bout of dizziness swing her around again.

  “Why don’t I track down your date Cody for you? Wouldn’t want to miss out on any end-of-the-date rituals, now would you?”

  With the spinning in her head, she could barely make sense of his words. “I’d really rather just go now. Please? Don’t you have an old truck, or something?” She loved old trucks. She’d learned how to drive in Yia-Yia’s classic cherry red 1966 Ford F100.

  Taking in the strain of his magnificent features, her moment of nostalgia faded. He was angry about something. She about reached up to smooth the lines knotting his eyebrows together, but he spoke before she got the chance. And based on his words, saved her the embarrassment.

  “Too lowly for a princess. And, hey, you held out for better, so we’ll get you your carriage.” Grabbing her arm, he tugged her along with him.

  Scarcely keeping up, her heel caught the raised edge of the threshold transitioning the floor from tile to carpet and she stumbled forward like a rag doll. Only she didn’t land on the floor. She was instantly swept up in Finn’s arms. And she decided—despite the venomous glare and the scowl—it was a pretty nice place to be.

  The brushing cadence of his steps on the plush surface and the soft sway of her body in his arms made her feel a bit sleepy, so she relaxed against his chest and shielded her eyes from the pain-inducing light. “Are you taking me home now?” The words pressed into his shirt and she snuggled a little closer—breathing in that tantalizing musk of a guy that didn’t need cologne to smell like fresh spice and warm leather.

  His steps quickened.

  “Why are you so grumpy?” she thought she heard herself murmur. But as the music behind them faded, the sound they approached swelled with equal intensity and irritation.

  And then Finn stopped, one arm stretch
ing out from beneath the cradle under her knees to rap on a door.

  She didn’t need to see that the door had swung open, or who was standing behind it, the artificial man smell rushed on the movement of air and stung her nose.

  Cody.

  The thumping music rocked her eardrums so hard she swore they must have shaken loose. And when she felt another swirl of air rush around her she peeled her tired eyes open and saw several guys leaving a room. A few of them coughing and laughing, one of them as droopy eyed as Joselyn. Cody stepped out into the hall.

  She looked away and glanced up at Finn who looked intent on ignoring her, which must have taken quite the effort considering he was holding her tight against his chest. “Finn, please.” Something felt wrong. And she didn’t know what was going on here, but she felt like a loose thread was exposed somewhere and one pull would unravel all the safety she felt here in Finn’s moody arms.

  Tightening her grip on his neck, she inched up closer to his ear to compensate for the overbearing noise. “Finn, please. Take me home.”

  But he still wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he pried her away from his chest and dumped her in Cody’s arms.

  She couldn’t be sure, but when his voice broke through the thundering bass line it sounded something like, “Here you go, man. She’s all yours.” And before the door closed, the last thing she saw was his arrogant swagger, striding away after depositing her at the threshold of Cody’s lair. The doorway to her own personal Hades.

  Those self-preservation techniques kicked in just in time. Unfurling her mind from the wicked memory, she blinked back the tears.

  And then she saw Yia-Yia—eyes so earnest and kind, swimming with an understanding that made Joselyn regret taking her along for the ride.

  “That’s not the end of the story, is it?” Yia-Yia’s voice was muggy, her gaze too keen despite the missing pieces of memory.

  Joselyn couldn’t lie, yet she couldn’t quite gather up the nerve to purge the rest of the truth at the moment. Either way it felt like she was taking advantage. Instead of confirming, she moved on. “But now this guy, Finn, is back in my life. And it seems like he’s changed.” Joselyn shook her head, hating that tug of vulnerability, and calling to trial her foolish heart versus her sensibly stoic brain over one particular doozy of a question.

  Can people really change?

  “Hmm.” Yia-Yia cleared her throat and tapped her lips with her Barbie-pink fingernail. “Do you still love him?”

  Joselyn didn’t need to mull it over to produce an answer, but she gave it a moment regardless. “Yes. But I wish I didn’t. Everything seems tainted by the past. And I’m not convinced I’m strong enough to get over it.”

  “Love is the strongest force in this world, Joselyn. Just think about that man on the cross.”

  Joselyn’s brain screeched to a halt.

  Something about Yia-Yia had always bent toward the spiritual or whimsical, but she’d held those deeply personal convictions close to the cuff. There had been a quiet strength to her faith that Joselyn hadn’t been able to decide was more admirable or confusing. Regardless, she’d never been this frank with Joselyn in the past. Granted, a lot of baggage was just unloaded and Yia-Yia might simply be reacting in an effort to console the damaged young woman who’d spilled her guts to a stranger.

  “Oh, fiddlesticks. I chipped a nail.”

  And just like that—with one blink—Yia-Yia’s eyes changed and the slate was wiped clean.

  If that was mercy pouring over her poor grandmother, Joselyn would take it,

  “You there, nurse. Would you grab my nail polish?” She muttered incoherent babble and something like, “I look like a schlemiel.”

  So Joselyn stayed and preoccupied herself by fixing Yia-Yia’s manicure, feeling mildly unburdened that she’d shared at least a part of her story with an actual person, instead of a journal to her dead mother.

  And it wasn’t until later that Joselyn remembered the warm wave of peace that had invaded her body and soul when she’d stepped outside her grief and let someone else carry it. Peace that followed her the rest of the day.

  Chapter 30

  Finn Carson

  Ribbons of golden sunshine wove in through the flimsy shades of Finn’s bedroom window, adequately announcing the arrival of the day and a time well past suitable for lazing around in bed. But sleep had been a stubborn target last night, and more than nightmares were to blame.

  Joselyn had occupied his fitful mind well into the wee hours of the morning—and not because of her fantasy-worthy allure. It was something else. Something had changed in a single day, and that veneer had gone up again, masking all the progress they’d made in the past few weeks.

  What had happened at the nursing home yesterday? Was something wrong with Yia-Yia?

  Naturally when he’d asked her about it she’d shrugged it off. The Future Mr. & Mrs. Archer Hayes had been hovering more than usual and then Finn’s parents had stopped by after their date night, squashing any possibility of alone time for Finn to dig any deeper.

  Finn had even offered to pull couch duty again, but Archer had staked a claim and in doing so shared a secret smile with Sadie, triggering an expedient departure from the big brother who did not want to know.

  Dodger huffed out a snort of air and wiggled a little tighter against Finn’s leg. Having kept him company in his hours of unrest, the pup deserved a little mattress time for his faithful companionship. Finn dug his fingers into the mutt’s fluff and rewarded him further with a nice long scratch behind the ears. “What do you think, Dodge, time to get up?”

  Dodger froze mid-stretch, legs jutting perpendicular to Finn’s, and then hurled himself off the bed. Engaging in a little dance and turn at the top of the stairs, the dog signaled his owner’s neglect of the call of nature until Finn untangled his weary limbs from the sheets, tossed on a hoodie and some pajama pants, and ventured down the stairs to let the dog do his business.

  When they got back inside Finn’s cell phone was rocking out from the coffee table. Closing the distance quickly he scooped it up and answered without a glance at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Please hold for Declan Whyte.” The woman’s voice was as pinched and irritating as the request.

  A bland, jazzy elevator mix played over the line while Finn waited. And waited. Right when he was about to throw in the towel, that signature Scottish burr piped in.

  “Finn, my boy. We’ll need to make this quick, I have a conference call in a few minutes.”

  “Fine. Fire away.” Finn tried not to wince at his word choice.

  “Unfortunately, since you and Joselyn missed your date the other night the press has gone wild with accusations again. Now, I was able to keep the car bombing under wraps, but the circus has only begun with the speculation about your breakup.”

  “Sir, I hardly think the public’s opinion about our relationship is important right now. Joselyn and I were almost killed.” You narcissistic pig!

  He found the unspoken insult helped to curb his anger.

  “Well I realize it seems trivial, but the weight of the campaign is bearing down and we have to keep up appearances when we can. So, I have issued a leak about Joselyn feeling under the weather and rescheduled your date for Friday night. Same place and time. Security will be firm.”

  The man breathed commands. It seemed it was the only language Declan Whyte knew.

  “Fine. But with all due respect, sir, have you even gone to see Joselyn? She was understandably shaken up. I’m sure she could use a little more support from you.”

  “Ahh,” the native grunt reduced the man to a grizzly. “She’s a tough lass. She’ll be fine.”

  Finn gritted his teeth so hard his jaw clicked. “This is bigger than your precious campaign, Mr. Whyte. This is about the safety of your daughter. Remember her? A living, breathing person, not a pawn to score you points in the polls.”

  “Watch your tone, lad, I am not to be trifled with. You’d do
well to remember our agreement.”

  He clenched his fists until crescent moons cut into his palms. Declan Whyte was a self-serving egomaniac, and he didn’t deserve her.

  Thinking of Princess Joselyn in her lonely, ivory tower stole the steam from his mounting fury. He wouldn’t trade all the wealth in the world for the life she’d endured because of this cold, callus man. “I feel sorry for you, sir. You’re missing out on something with immeasurably more value than your precious career. Open your eyes. Your daughter needs her dad. And since you refuse to be a decent human being, let alone a passable father, I’ll be there. I’ll be the one she can count on. But know this—I don’t work for you. You couldn’t pay me any amount of money to stay away from your daughter—”

  “That’s enough!” The razor-edged rebuke forewarned the force of his retaliation. But Finn couldn’t care less. The man was the lowest of the low. Abandoned and manipulated his daughter to suit his ego-driven gain, deceptively dangling love and affection he had no intention of giving for her compliance.

  “If you so much as cross me, boy—” He cut off with a grunt. “The conference call. I shall spare you with this one warning—play your part Friday night. I will not have another slip up. Consider yourself lucky I won’t make you pay for that little tantrum.”

  “I am lucky, sir. But it has nothing to do with your sparing me and everything to do with your amazing daughter. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Finn wished for simpler times where he could actually slam down the phone. Severing the connection with the resolute jab on a touch screen didn’t seem to satisfy the violent urges blazing in his blood.

  So he started pacing, grumbling the unspoken frustrations under his breath.

  Soft scraping followed his ranting, and he looked down to see the faithful Dodger warring out the anger march to match. Of course, the wagging tail and lapping pink tongue didn’t much mirror Finn’s tense simmering rage, but he appreciated the support.