by HELEN HARDT
“But you do most of that yourself.”
“How did you know that?”
“You told me. You said you’d install a new garbage disposal when the one in the cabin finally died.”
He laughed. “That’s right. I did. No use paying a plumber for something I can do myself.”
“Not to get too personal, but did you work with silver as a teen? Because you said your mom suggested the name for the shop.”
He cleared his throat again. “She did, actually. It was always her dream to open up a shop, and that’s what she wanted to call it. She taught me everything I know. When I opened my shop, I wanted to pay her homage.”
“She was a silversmith too?”
“Yeah. A true artist, but she didn’t do it for a business. She had a kid to feed. She waited tables over at the truck stop in the next town. Lousy hours but good tips, so I spent a lot of time with my uncle anyway when Mom wasn’t around.”
“I’m sure you must miss her.”
“Always will.” He didn’t meet my gaze.
Was it hard for him to talk about his mother? It seemed to be.
“Here’s something you’ll like.” He held the door open to the little shop next to his. “All antiques. Bess has a great eye. Dealers from all over Montana come here to look at her offerings.”
I smiled. “I love antiques.” I followed Matt into the shop and—
Tripped like an idiot over a step I didn’t see.
“Honey, are you all right?”
“Just embarrassed.”
Matt pointed to the sign outside the door.
Watch your step.
Nice. Too bad I hadn’t bothered to read it.
My purse lay on the floor, and several things had fallen out. Shit. Matt picked up my compact, my change purse, and my pack of cigarettes, stuffed them back into my purse, and handed it to me.
“You smoke?” he asked.
“No. I mean…only sometimes. It relaxes me a little.”
“Oh.”
As much as I’d learned to be a proficient liar, thanks to Derek Wolfe, I’d never developed a taste for it.
I especially hated lying to Matt. Plus, I was really bad at it.
For some reason, I wanted to be ridiculously truthful with Matt. Which was a stupid idea, because if he knew every bit of truth about me, he’d go screaming in the other direction.
Who wouldn’t?
Half the time I wanted to run away from myself.
Okay, not half the time.
All the time.
“You should quit,” he said.
“Trust me. It’s not a problem.”
Not at all. I never smoked. These cigarettes served a much different purpose.
“Then why do you carry cigarettes around in your purse?”
“What’s with the grand inquisition?” I demanded…a little more harshly than I’d meant to.
“I’m sorry. My uncle was a smoker. Lung cancer is what killed him.”
“Oh.” I felt the size of a pea. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’d hate to see the same thing happen to you.”
“It won’t.”
I’d smoked maybe twice in my life, and both times it had made me want to puke.
“Then you won’t mind if I take these.” He reached into my purse and grabbed the pack.
“As a matter of fact, I do mind.” I grabbed them back from him and stuffed them back into my purse. “You’re out of line.”
“Maybe. But I care too much for you to see you end up like Uncle Roger.”
“I told you. I don’t even smoke very much. It’s not a problem.”
He walked me out of the doorway of the antique shop and onto the sidewalk. He gripped my shoulders and turned me to face him. “Riley, what aren’t you telling me?”
A loaded question if there ever was one.
What I wasn’t telling him could fill volumes.
14
Matteo
“N-Nothing.”
Pretty much what I expected. She’d known me for two days, so she wasn’t about to spill her guts. Not yet, anyway.
But I was nothing if not determined.
“All right. I’m sorry I overstepped my bounds. I just hated watching my uncle waste away. He was such a great guy. My hero, actually. He helped me get through…” Nope, wasn’t ready to go there. Not with her. Not with anyone. “Everything. My mom’s death. You know.”
“I understand. It’s okay.”
But she clutched her purse close to her body, as if that pack of cigarettes inside were a security blanket she wasn’t willing to part with.
Fine. Let her smoke herself to death.
Except that her wellbeing was important to me. More important than it should be at this early stage of knowing her.
Yeah, I wanted to get her into bed something fierce, but more than that, I wanted to know everything that made her tick. I wanted to know her favorite color. Her favorite flower. I wanted to know what made her happy and what made her sad.
I wanted to know her, and not just in the biblical sense.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked.
She cocked her head. “Pink. Why?”
“Just wondering. Favorite flower?”
“A rose.”
“Let me guess. A pink one?”
“Pink or red, yeah.”
“We’re taking a detour.”
“No antiques today?”
“Later, if there’s time. Come on.” I grabbed her hand and led her across the street to Kari’s Flower Shop.
The bell dinged as I opened the door for Riley and I walked in behind her.
“Hey, Matt.” Kari looked up from the magazine she was reading. “What are you up to today?”
“Did some work over at the Carson place this morning, and today I’m showing Riley around our little town. Riley, this is Kari Preston.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Riley said.
“You too. Are you visiting Matt?”
“No, just renting his cabin.”
“Got it.”
“I want the most amazing pink rose you have, Kari,” I said.
Riley blushed again. God, she was beautiful.
“I have some beauties.” Kari walked over to her greenhouse and pulled out a vase full of pink roses. She brought it back to the counter. “Take your pick.”
“My lady,” I said to Riley.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“I want to. Which one do you want?”
She eyed me oddly. A woman like Riley was probably used to receiving two dozen roses at a time, and I was offering her a single bloom.
While Riley eyed me, Kari was eyeing her.
“You look familiar to me,” Kari said. “Have we met before?”
“Not unless you’ve been to Pittsburgh,” Riley said. “This is my first time here.”
“Nope, never have. I’ve never ventured east of the Dakotas, actually. I prefer the openness of the west, you know?”
“It is nice,” Riley agreed. “Nothing like…Pittsburgh.”
“Still, there’s something about you that seems familiar to me.”
“Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
I let out a laugh. Riley did not have “one of those faces.” She was as beautiful and unique as women came.
Both she and Kari turned their gazes on me.
“Why exactly are you laughing?” Kari asked.
“No reason. Have you picked your rose yet?” I nodded to Riley.
Kari smiled. “If Mattie here is offering you a rose, I’d take it. All the girls around here would love to get a rose from him.”
Riley blushed once more. “You’re the expert,” she said to Kari. “You pick one. They’re all beautiful to me.”
She withdrew a gorgeous dark pink bloom, wrapped it in tissue, and handed it to Riley. “That’s two dollars and twenty-three cents,” she said to me.
I dug two singles out of my wallet and laid them on the cou
nter and then checked my pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Keep the change.” I winked at Kari.
Riley buried her nose in the petals of the rose. “Mmm. I love that fragrance. It’s so calming.”
“Rose essential oil is a great relaxant,” Kari said.
“I know,” Riley said. “At home, I rinse my hair in rosewater. Keeps it really soft and silky.”
I kept myself from widening my eyes. Rinsing her hair in rosewater? Again, didn’t sound like any high school teacher I knew.
“Thanks, Kari.” I reached toward the door.
“Anytime. Nice to meet you, Riley.” Kari shook her head. “I wish I could figure out why you look so familiar to me.”
Riley laughed nervously. “Nice to meet you too.”
Once we were back out on the sidewalk, I turned to Riley and smiled. “You are something.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re just…a puzzle. A puzzle, Riley Mansfield, and I’d really love to find all the missing pieces.”
“Oh? Well, you’re kind of a puzzle yourself.”
“Me?” I guffawed. “I’m an open book. Ask anyone.”
“Are you? Then tell me about your mother.”
Wow.
That had come right out of left field and hit me right in the temple.
I didn’t talk about my mother.
I didn’t have to. Everyone in town knew my story. No one outside of town did. I never discussed it with visitors or renters.
I wasn’t about to begin now.
After a painful minute of silence, Riley said, “Not such an open book after all.”
I met her dark gaze. “Tell you what. I’ll tell you all about my mother, if you do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Tell me what you’re hiding, Riley.”
She looked to the ground. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
She brought her gaze back to mine and glared at me. “Nothing. Not a damned thing.”
“You’re a good liar when you have to be. You could fool most anyone else, I think.”
She thrust the rose in my face. “I’m not a liar. If that’s what you think of me, keep your damned rose.”
I eased her arm down. “It’s your rose, Riley. I want you to have it. It’s beautiful, but it’s not nearly as beautiful as you are. I want you to have that silver and pink sapphire pendant I made as well. I don’t give gifts lightly, and I don’t appreciate having them shoved back in my face.”
“If you think—”
“I don’t think anything. We both know there are things you’re not telling me. For one, I don’t believe for a minute that you’re a high school business teacher.”
“I am!”
“Okay, then. What classes do you teach?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. Opened it again. “Business education.”
“Okay. What specific classes?”
“Marketing. Merchandising.”
“Merchandising? At the high school level?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“High-school-level business classes are things like accounting, keyboarding, entrepreneurship. Even business law. But not merchandising.”
“My high school has an advanced curriculum.”
“I see.”
“Fuck you.” She threw the tissue-wrapped rose down and stomped on it. “If you don’t believe me, fuck you!”
“That’s not the only thing I don’t believe. I don’t believe you’re from Pittsburgh. If I had to guess, I’d say you were from New York.”
“Oh? Based on what, exactly?”
“The fact that you have that uptight New York look.”
She scoffed.
“Also the fact that you once referred to Pittsburgh as New Pittsburgh.”
“I did not.”
“You did, and what’s more, you know you did. You’re blushing again, and you’re not looking me in the eye.” I leaned down, picked up the now trampled rose, and handed it to her. “This is still yours, and I still want to know you. I just want to know the real you. Show me the real you, and I’ll show you the real me.”
She took the rose. For a split second, I wasn’t sure she would, but she did.
“I want to go back to the cabin,” she said.
“All right. The truck’s parked behind my shop. Let’s go.” I grabbed her hand.
She didn’t whisk her hand out of mine, though I half-expected her to.
We didn’t exchange any more words until we reached the cabin.
I got out of the truck and walked her to the door.
“Thanks for the rose,” she said. Then she unlocked the door and went inside.
So that was that. For now, at least. She was here for several more days.
I checked my watch.
Time to go. Leena was expecting me to replace that damned pipe in her kitchen sink.
15
Riley
I couldn’t stay here.
I had no right to be away from home and leave my brothers to the mess our father had left us.
Sure, I had my own issues with the bastard, but I was still a Wolfe sibling, and I had a duty to my brothers.
Not to my father. I owed him nothing.
But my brothers… We’d all been implicated in the asshole’s murder, and they shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.
Problem? I didn’t want to leave.
I didn’t want to leave Matt.
Of course, after my little sideshow in the street, he wouldn’t want to have anything more to do with me anyway.
I could stay for the remaining days. I’d already paid for them.
But living here in Matt’s cabin and not seeing Matt?
No. Not happening. I’d grown accustomed to him. In fact, I wanted to see him. Wanted to be near him. Wanted to feel his hand in mine, his lips on mine.
I even wanted that part of him.
That part that I never thought I’d want from a man.
Sex was supposed to be a wonderful experience between two people who wanted each other.
I’d never had that. I’d been forced. Violated.
Raped.
I was nearly eighteen before I could actually think the word, but yes, my father had raped me. Repeatedly. Since I was six years old.
Six fucking years old.
Rock had been sent away because he was trying to help me.
I hadn’t understood at the time. Even though he was hurting me, I’d been devoted to my father. He called me princess. His little princess. He showered me with gifts, gave me whatever my heart desired.
Pretty soon, the only thing my heart desired was to be free from him.
My brothers never knew. I’d wondered on occasion, but my phone conversation with Roy a couple days ago proved they hadn’t.
They hadn’t known until now. Rock told them why he’d been sent away. Why he never came back.
I could be angry. Angry that he never came back and tried to save me again.
But how could I? He’d had the chance to escape Derek Wolfe for good, and he’d taken it. He’d taken it and run.
I’d have done the same thing if I’d been able to.
Of course, now Rock had been forced back into the family fold by our father’s mandates. If he didn’t return to New York and take charge of the family empire, none of us would inherit anything.
Rock had returned. He was now CEO of Wolfe Enterprises. He hated it, but he was doing it.
For Roy, for Reid, and for me.
In the end, Rock had returned.
I should expect no less of myself.
I carefully removed the torn tissue paper from my rose. The bloom hadn’t been damaged and was still perfect, but the stem was broken. I was leaving anyway, so I couldn’t put it in a vase.
Matt had given it to me, though, and I didn’t want to part with it. I shot my gaze to the small bookshelf in the corner of the cabin’s living room. Mostly old paperbacks, but among them stood a hardco
ver—a thick Stephen King novel. I grabbed it, opened it to the middle, and placed my flower between the pages. It would flatten and dry, and I could keep it forever.
That meant I’d have to take the book with me. It wasn’t mine to take, but I’d leave a few twenties on the counter so Matt could replace it if he wanted to. It couldn’t mean much to him, or he’d have kept it at his own place.
I fired up my laptop to get a flight out of here and back to Manhattan. I was hoping for a redeye, but none were available.
I took the first flight in the morning and booked it with my Chloe Mansfield credentials.
Now…what to do for the rest of the evening?
I was still full from Mrs. Carson’s amazing lunch, but I’d be hungry later. Right. Matt had brought groceries. I’d make a salad or something.
Right now? I wanted to leave this day behind.
What better for that goal than a soak in the hot tub out back?
Except the hot tub wouldn’t cut it. Hot soothing water worked for normal people. Sometimes for me. But not this time.
Only one thing would suffice.
I’d promised I wouldn’t do it, but—
I reached for my purse.
And pulled out the pack of cigarettes.
This was my vice. My escape. I’d get into the hot tub later, but for now? Only one thing would put my mind at rest.
Physical pain.
A burn.
As a model, I had to keep my body looking perfect all the time, so I hid my burns well.
There was a spot at the top of my vulva that was always covered. I kept myself shaved for easy access.
My father had seen the markings more than once.
He’d never said anything. Not a damned thing.
I lit the cigarette and took a drag, mindful not to inhale even a tiny bit of smoke or I’d gag. Matt truly had nothing to worry about. I never smoked.
These cigarettes served a far more sinister purpose.
I always let the cigarette burn a few minutes. Had to make sure it wouldn’t bend when I pushed it hard into my bare flesh. So I waited. This cabin was designated as a nonsmoking property, but I didn’t rightfully care at the moment.
A few moments later, when a clump of ash fell off the tip and onto the hardwood floor, I still didn’t care.
