by HELEN HARDT
Seriously. And I didn’t say that lightly. Because I didn’t talk like that. Ever.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m out now.”
I turned around. She was tall. Really fucking tall. Not as tall as I was, of course, but I was six-five. Taller than all the women around these parts, though. She was tall and lean, and I swear to God her legs went on forever. She looked like an angel wrapped in a white towel.
“I hate to bother you,” she said, “but my bags…”
“They’re in the bedroom. I already brought them in.”
“Wow, really? I didn’t realize I had left the car unlocked.”
“You didn’t. I found the keys on the kitchen table and took the liberty of—”
“Of breaking into my car?”
I couldn’t help a sly smile. “No. I used the key.”
“Without my permission. That’s called breaking in where I come from.”
“In Pittsburgh, I suppose so. Here in Sumter Falls, it’s called being a good neighbor. We don’t even bother locking our cars. Our crime rate is really low, and we all know each other.”
“That doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.”
“It’s not a good idea…in Pittsburgh.”
“How would you know? Have you ever been to Pittsburgh?”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t. And I have no desire to go there. I’m just a small-town guy who is happy here in Sumter Falls.”
A tiny grunt emitted from her. Yeah, all these big city girls were alike. They didn’t all look like her, though. Man, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on, and I really, really wanted to see what was under that towel.
“Well…nice to meet you, Mr. Matteo.”
“First name is Matteo. Last name is Rossi. But you can call me Matt. What should I call you?”
“Riley.”
“Riley? I thought your name was Chloe. Chloe Mansfield.”
Her cheeks were already red from the heat of the hot tub, but I swore they got even redder. “Right. It is. But I go by Riley. It’s my…middle name.”
“Okay. Riley it is.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Rossi.”
“Matt, please. Mr. Rossi doesn’t exist. Even my grandpa went by his first name.”
“Fine. Matt. Please excuse me. I have to get some clothes on.”
I couldn’t help myself. I stretched my lips into a grin. “Ma’am, you don’t have to get any clothes on at all.”
She turned full-on beet red and ran into the kitchen.
Too bad she was only here for a week.
3
Riley
Once I was safely in the bedroom, I leaned against the door, nearly hyperventilating.
I was used to being around attractive men. Blond, dark, redhead, all skin tones and colors, all races and nationalities, and all gorgeous.
Everyone was gorgeous in the modeling world.
But Matteo Rossi took gorgeous to a new level. First, he was light where I was dark. His hair was the color of fresh wheat, and though his skin was tanned, I could tell he was naturally lighter than I was.
And about that hair the color of fresh wheat. It was long—as long or longer than my brother Roy’s. Golden stubble graced his jawline, and what a jawline it was. Square and masculine and perfectly sculpted. His eyes…the lightest blue.
Then his body…corded and muscular, with large hands and thick fingers, the broadest shoulders I’d seen in some time, and an ass that was perfection in Levi’s.
I was used to being around perfection, and probably partly because of my past, rarely did I have this intense an attraction to another human being.
My heart thudded rapidly. So hard against my chest that I could see the movement on the white towel that still covered me.
Damn.
I wanted this man. I really wanted this man in a way that was completely new to me.
I’d been around the block, for sure, but not the normal block.
The intensity of my attraction to Matteo Rossi scared the hell out of me.
I inhaled and exhaled deeply several times, trying to slow my rapid heart rate. When I finally felt I had myself in a modicum of control, I let the towel drop to the floor. My suitcase sat at the foot of the king-sized bed, so I lifted it onto the bed and opened it. I grabbed my oldest, softest pair of jeans and a T-shirt and quickly threw them on, along with a comfortable pair of Crocs flip-flops.
I walked swiftly toward the door, and my heart started thudding uncontrollably once more.
Matteo Rossi might not even be out there. He’d said he dropped some groceries off for me since the store was closed. What other reason did he have to stay?
For God’s sake, Riley. Calm down.
I inhaled slowly and exhaled, turning the doorknob and opening the door.
Then my heart started racing once more.
He was still there, standing in my kitchen—well, technically it was his kitchen—and peeling potatoes over the sink.
“Hey,” he said.
“I didn’t know you’d still be here.”
“Yep, still here. The garbage disposal is a little finicky, so I wanted to show you how to use the plunger to unclog it if you need to.”
“I think I can figure out how to use a plunger.”
He didn’t have to know I’d never used a plunger in my life. I wasn’t even sure what a plunger looked like. The Wolfes had people to do those kinds of things.
“I’m sure you can. I’m sure you’re quite capable of anything you put your mind to, honey. But like I said, the disposal is finicky, and there’s a certain knack to it.”
Honey. That was the second time he’d use the endearment. It warmed me all over, as if warm honey itself were coating me.
“Last time I checked, I’m not your honey.”
“Nothing personal. I call everyone honey. But if it bothers you, Riley, I’ll stop.”
It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I love it. It makes me want to melt into your arms and—
“It bothers me,” I said flatly.
If there was one thing my father taught me, it was how to lie convincingly.
The perpetual smile that had been on Matteo’s face since he arrived disappeared. “No problem.”
I hadn’t expected to feel any remorse. I turned my feelings off long ago for my own sanity. But sadness and sorrow slid through me. I’d hurt this man’s feelings.
I hadn’t meant to. Honestly, I rarely considered feelings, since I didn’t have any myself. On top of that, I lied. I liked him calling me honey.
I liked it a lot.
And that freaked me out more than a little.
“Potato peelings are the worst,” he said. “That’s why I’m using them to show you this. Plus, then you’ll have some potatoes to make for dinner tonight.”
“I don’t eat potatoes,” I said, again flatly.
“Okay… Then I’ll have some potatoes for my dinner tonight.”
I was being so damned rude. I couldn’t help it, and I hated myself for it. I liked this man. I was attracted to this man.
I’d come here to disappear. To be alone. Matteo Rossi made me want to not be alone.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I could say so many things.
It’s not that I don’t like potatoes, but they’re so starchy that I never eat them.
But then he would ask why, and I would have to tell him I was a model on a strict diet.
I’m allergic to potatoes.
Yeah, he’d believe that. I was a very convincing liar. But I’d never heard of anyone having a potato allergy before. Peanut butter? Strawberries? Mushrooms? Yeah, but never potatoes.
I was attacked by a potato as a young girl.
Right. I was a convincing liar, but that was just too much.
“Thank you for bringing me the supplies.”
“I guess I’ll just take the potatoes home with me,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said. “This is my vacation. I
think I’ll throw caution to the wind and eat a potato.”
His lips quivered. Just a touch, but I noticed. He wanted to smile. And the fact that I had made him want to smile made me very happy. Very happy indeed.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I know you want to.”
“Want to what?”
“Smile.”
That split his face into a wide grin. “Thank you. I’d say the same, but I haven’t actually seen you smile.”
Oh, boy. That was harsh. Problem was that it was also correct. Right on the money.
I wasn’t a big smiler. Not a lot to smile about in my world, and of course, on the runway, we models were supposed to have that sullen look that top fashion designers found alluring.
Personally, I thought we all looked mad as hell.
Right now, though, I was so tempted to smile. The muscles in my cheeks itched to slide upward.
“Come on, Riley. You can do it.”
My God, he had a sexy voice. Low and husky and smooth as silk.
So I did what he asked. I met his ice-blue gaze, and I smiled.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
How exactly was I supposed to answer that? It was a yes or no question. If I answered yes, I’d look like a hard-ass who never cracked a smile. If I answered no, I’d look like a silly little flirt.
I took the third option. I didn’t reply at all.
Matteo shook his head with a sigh. “You are a tough nut to crack, Riley Mansfield.”
He didn’t know how right he was.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I am.” He set the potato peeler down and looked me straight in my eyes. “I love this place. In fact, I live in a cabin almost identical to this one. Inherited both from my bachelor uncle who passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay. He lived a good long life. But that’s not my point. My point is this place is magical. It helps a person realize what’s truly important in life, and for some reason, Riley, I think you need to be here right now.”
“That’s kind of why I booked this place.”
“Is it? Or did you just want to get off the radar for a while?”
“Well, I…” I…what? He was exactly right. I wanted to get off the radar. I wanted to disappear. I didn’t really give a damn where I disappeared to, just that I’d be off the radar.
“As I suspected. Something drove you here. Some need to escape something. That’s all fine and well, but you could’ve escaped to a spa.”
“Yeah, I thought about that.” Truth.
“What made you choose Montana?”
“My brother, actually. He used to live in a little biker town outside of Helena.”
“But he no longer lives there?”
“No, he had to move to New York for…work. He lives in Manhattan now.”
“Manhattan… Quite a change from big sky country. I’ll bet he misses it.”
“He does. He didn’t want to leave here.”
“Why did he, then? You can always find work wherever you want to be.”
“It’s a long story.” I sighed.
“Well, then, you’re in luck, Riley. I love a good long story, and it just so happens I don’t have any plans for this evening.”
4
Matteo
She lifted her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Ms. Riley Mansfield was also from Manhattan. I was sure of it. She had that New Yorker look.
Of course, her reservation in the name of Chloe Mansfield showed a Pittsburgh address, and she said herself she was from Pittsburgh.
I didn’t believe her. She had uptight New Yorker written all over her face.
But I’d play along. She was a gorgeous woman, and I was free tonight.
“I don’t want to bore you,” she said.
“You are the least boring person I’ve met in a while,” I said. “And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
That got a smile from her.
“I was right,” I said.
“About what?”
“About your gorgeous smile. You should smile more often, Riley.”
“There’s not a lot to smile about in my world.”
“I think you just made my point. You need this place. A week here, and I guarantee you’ll be smiling a lot.”
A week in my bed and she’d be smiling even more than that, but I wouldn’t push. She had an outer shell that was harder than steel from what I could see.
What she didn’t know was I was also the town silversmith, and I could melt anything.
“Let me show you how to unclog this damn thing.” I opened the cupboard door beneath the sink, reached in, and pulled out the rubber plunger. Then I turned on the faucet and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. I pushed the potato peelings down the drain.
She gasped. “Be careful! Push too far in and your fingers will be caught in the blades.”
“Only if I’m a complete moron.”
She bit her lower lip. “It’s better to use the dish brush.” She grabbed it out of the dish-drying rack and handed it to me.
I held up both my hands. “Haven’t lost a finger yet.”
“Indulge me, then. Just use the brush, at least while I’m here.”
Indulge me. Hell, yeah, I’d like to indulge her. Indulge myself…
But I had to go slow with this one. Very slow.
Like clockwork, the growl of the disposal morphed into a whimper, and the sink began filling up with water clouded by starch from the potato peelings.
“See? Potato peelings always do it, but they’re not the only culprits.” I grabbed the plunger. “First you have to put the plug in the other side of the sink. It’s right there.” I pointed.
She grabbed it and placed it in the sink correctly.
“Now you need to place this plunger right over the drain where the clog is and give it three quick snaps. Watch.” I plunged three times, and again like clockwork, the drain cleared.
“Looks easy enough, but if I don’t eat potatoes…”
“I think you just said you might eat a potato, but it’s not just potatoes. I’ve seen it happen with salad, spinach, carrot peelings. Potatoes are just the worst. The trick is the three quick snaps. Two won’t do it. A lot of my renters call me to fix this, so I figured it was best to just show people up front how to do it because the damned thing will clog.”
“Why not just install a new disposal?”
“Because this one works fine.”
“Clogging up every other time you try to use it is not working fine,” she said indignantly.
“Okay, then here’s reason number two. Installing a new disposal is a big pain in the ass and it will cost me money.”
“Then call a plumber to do it.”
I couldn’t help it. My jaw dropped. I seriously just told her that a new disposal would cost me money, and her suggestion was to hire a plumber? So that I could pay not just for the disposal but also for the installation?
Something wasn’t computing between those pretty little ears.
“Uh… Riley, that would cost more.”
Now her jaw dropped. Had she truly not realized what she had suggested? Interesting. I’d just learned something new and useful about Ms. Riley Mansfield.
She had no financial worries. Not a one.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No need to be sorry. But I won’t be paying a plumber when I’m perfectly capable of installing a garbage disposal myself.”
“I understand. I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Tell you what,” I said, deciding to take a plunge. “Come out to dinner with me and we’ll call it even.”
“D-Dinner?”
“Yeah. You’ve heard of it. The evening meal?”
She nodded, blushing.
God, she was fucking hot.
“Why would going out to dinner make us even?”
“It’s a joke, Riley. I’
m using it as an excuse to take you to dinner. We have a few restaurants here in this tiny town, only one of which is any good. I’d like to buy you dinner.”
“How can you buy me dinner if—”
“If I can’t afford a garbage disposal? I never said I couldn’t afford a garbage disposal. I said there was no need to replace it when this one works fine with a little nudging. Why waste the bucks when I don’t have to?”
She opened her mouth but then closed it.
She did that a lot.
“So…about dinner?” I was nothing if not persistent.
“I don’t know…”
“It’s a public place. Nothing to be frightened of.”
“I’m not frightened.”
“Then what’s the issue? You got a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. It’s a dinner invitation, Riley. Dinner. Nothing else.”
“You…have a key to this place.”
“Because it’s my place. Do you really think…?” I shook my head. “You know what? Forget dinner. Forget everything.” I turned, my body tense with anger, and walked toward the front door.
“Wait!”
I turned. She stood between the kitchen and living area, her lips parted.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I didn’t mean to be rude. I just… I’m not used to strange men being nice to me.”
I had to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor. I grinned instead. “I’d hardly call myself strange.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Not strange as in bizarre. Strange as in stranger. I don’t know you.”
“I knew what you meant. I’m just trying to lighten the mood here.”
“Why?”
“Because you definitely need to lighten up, Riley.”
5
Riley
He wasn’t wrong.
I’d come here to disappear, not lighten up. Unfortunately, lightening up wasn’t in the cards for me. Neither was disappearing, apparently. Matteo Rossi seemed damned determined that I not disappear.
A dinner invitation? Innocent enough. It was a dinner date. Just a dinner date.
