The Neighbor's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance #1)

by Kimberley Montpetit

  “You had so many chances and you deny it. It’s like you blame me.”

  “That day was insanely crazy, sweetheart.”

  “Do you hear yourself? Your day was crazy? I had the worst day of my life. Our wedding was about our lives together. It wasn’t just an event or another work day—or overtime.”

  Allie’s voice rose with every sentence. She tried to calm down, but for some reason she couldn’t. Despite the stares—and glares—she was receiving from gawking tourists. Even people sitting in chairs around the area enjoying the beautiful weather had begun to glance around, sensing tension in the air.

  “I can make this right, sweetheart,” Sean said in a low voice. “Stop calling me sweetheart!”

  “See, I can’t help it. You’re my sweetheart. The woman I’m meant to be with, even if it takes a few more months to plan the wedding again.”

  “Listen to yourself, Sean!” Allie snapped.

  “Can we go somewhere else to talk?” Sean finally said, his face turning red when he realized how much they were being overheard.

  “No. You can speak to me right here in front of my family and my town. You shouldn’t have anything to hide. You need to be straight up honest with me.”

  Allie felt a tiny bit of guilt forcing him to confront his actions right there in public even though he hated confrontation, but she wasn’t backing down.

  Sean heaved a sigh of irritation. “I came all this way and you won’t talk to me in private. I have to get back to the city. The judge has moved up my court day to tomorrow instead of Wednesday so I’m going to have to drive all night. I’ll be beat.”

  Allie dropped her pencil in astonishment. “You’ll be beat. Poor baby,” she said sarcastically. “If you were serious about winning me back you’d stay and make this right. You would be here to woo me, to court me, and to do everything you could to make me fall in love with you all over again. And you haven’t made a single attempt. It’s like you’re incapable of having any empathy or understanding.”

  The woman in line began to slowly clap her hands. Her husband blushed and put an arm around her.

  A wave of sudden emotion filled Allie’s throat. “Sean, it’s over. Your behavior the past two days has convinced me. You need to go home.”

  “When will you return to Toronto?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever go back.”

  “Will you let me know?”

  Allie shook her head. “Probably not.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not convinced you mean it, but I have to get back. My career is on the line. It’s one of my most important cases.”

  “It’s always about your career, Sean.” Allie slammed the register door closed and it popped back open. She slammed it again. With every slam she grew more livid. If only she could be fifteen again and throw a bag of hot fries at him—or pour an ice cold Coke over his head. It would ruin his suit, but the sight would give her immense satisfaction.

  She picked up a cup and hit the button to fill it with ice water. Her father suddenly spoke over her shoulder. “Let me take over here, Allie. Go on to the back and tell Sean goodbye.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Strickland,” Sean said.

  Allie spun on her heel and stalked to the back of the shop. When she threw open the back door, Sean was already there. He tugged at her arm. “Come outside with me.”

  “No,” Allie refused, stubbornness rising like a growing tidal wave.

  “You’re being unreasonable,” Sean told her with a woeful look. “I don’t want to leave like this. I’ll call you when I get back.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  He let out a huge sigh. “Okay, will it make you feel better if I admit that maybe I don’t have it in me to get married right now.”

  Allie folded her arms and leaned back against a stack of shelves. “Now you admit it? You could have said something months ago.”

  “Maybe our timing was wrong. Maybe I can get serious about marriage and a family when I’m more established and not trying to please the boss.”

  “Maybe your boss is the only one you want to please,” she said, her voice like stone.

  “Come on, don’t do this. I want to leave on good terms.”

  “That’s not possible, Sean.”

  “Give me just an inch, Allie, please,” he pleaded. “Can we be friends? Can I have one last kiss goodbye? You know I’m going to miss you. You know it.”

  Tears smarted now. Allie’s eyes grew blurry and she pulled away, reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf perched above the deep fat fryer, sizzling with frying potatoes.

  All at once, Sean had barreled inside the fry truck. He tugging at her arm, whirling her around and pulling her waist into his.

  His lips came down on hers. As if he owned her. How dare he force himself on her? As if a kiss was all it took for her to give in and agree to everything he wanted.

  She tried to speak and their teeth knocked together so hard it hurt. His arms gripped hers like a vise. “Stop it, Sean. You took away every shred of my dreams, and you still want a piece of me. I almost can’t stand to look at you. Please go.”

  But he wouldn’t let her go. Allie wiggled her arms out of his and tried to push him away, but she was knocked off balance in the process and her hip slammed into the edge of the deep fat fryer.

  The fryer tipped over and boiling oil splattered across her torso, scorching her arms and hands. “Dear God!” she screamed.

  Horror seeped up her throat as she watched the hot oil melt her apron, coiling the material into horrific patterns of black.

  Before she could move, the cascading oil spilled onto the gas flames underneath the fryer, and plumes of fire shot up toward the ceiling.

  Allie’s screams rent the air as her parents and sister ran to douse the fire but more flames shot in every direction. In seconds, the walls of the fry shop were leaping with flames, licking at the ceiling in raging orange and red.

  “Fire! Fire!” someone yelled.

  More voices called for the fire department while heat seared Allie. Time seemed to slow. It was like watching a horror movie with herself in the middle of it, clothes and hair smoking.

  Dad’s voice yelled, a thunder above the clamor. “Allie, drop and roll. Drop and roll!”

  Mom ran for the fire extinguisher and that’s when Allie realized that Erin was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Erin?” she screamed, her throat raw. The front of the shop was filled with flames. Taking down the cupboards and counters.

  Black smoke rolled through the shop in ugly ripples. So fast. So instant, Allie didn’t have time to think.

  Allie had turned into a column of heat, just like Lot’s wife had turned into a pillar of salt. She wanted to obey her father’s voice, but she couldn’t get her legs to move, let alone bend to drop to the floor.

  An instant later, a tall male came out of nowhere and knocked her to the ground, slapping at her torso and arms and legs. She screamed in pain and then the man dragged her out of the shop and onto the lawn. Her eyes were burning so badly she couldn’t see who it was.

  She could feel the sun’s rays on her face while a nasty burnt smell encompassed the entire world. A moment later she began to cough, hacking as if she’d just smoked an entire carton of Marlboro’s in the last five minutes.

  “Allie, Allie!” The same person who had dragged her outside was trying to get her to speak, but she couldn’t seem to move her mouth to form words. The world was a haze of smoke and torture.

  “Dad,” she finally croaked.

  “It’s Ethan,” he whispered, squeezing her hand.

  “Dad. Mom.” Oh, it hurt to talk.

  “Your father is fine. So it your mother and sister.

  Her family was there. They were okay. The relief was so enormous tears dripped from Allie’s eyes.

  Somewhere behind her, she heard a horrible crash. Cringing, Allie instinctively ducked her head. “Ssh, ssh, it’s okay, Allie,” Ethan said. “I got you. You’re going
to be okay. But I’m afraid the roof of the fry shack just collapsed.”

  Her mother’s voice was suddenly there and Allie managed to crack one eyelid. Her parents and Erin surrounded her. And that’s when Allie began to cry, but the tears burned her cheeks as if hot acid was pouring from her tear ducts.

  “Hold my hand, Allie,” Ethan told her firmly. “Don’t faint. Don’t pass out. Keep hanging onto me. An ambulance is coming.”

  “It hurts, it hurts,” she whimpered, unable to stop herself. She bit down on her lip and tasted blood. Then the wail of a siren came to her ears.

  When her eyelids fluttered, Ethan’s face came into view, blurry and unfocused, but she could see that his eyes were fixed on hers. Intense. Worried.

  “I can see you,” she whispered. She closed them again because the sunlight hurt.

  “Good girl,” Ethan said hoarsely. “ You’re in shock, but you’re going to be fine.”

  His lips brushed against her hair and Allie sensed rather than saw the emotion he was holding back.

  When the ambulance arrived and the paramedics lifted her onto the gurney, she screamed in a burst of fresh agony when they slid her inside and slammed the doors.

  Vaguely, Allie was aware that her full-length apron had charred to a crisp. Her jeans black, holes burnt down her thighs. She couldn’t remember what color her blouse had been, but only part of it was left. Even the lace on her bra had melted.

  Dirt crunched along her teeth, but someone behind her said that she was tasting ash in her mouth. A moment later, there was a prick in her arm as the paramedics got an IV going. It wasn’t long before Allie melted into the narrow stretcher and disappeared into oblivion.

  Chapter 18

  Allie woke to a low-lit hospital room at the Upper River Valley Hospital in Waterville. She gazed down at herself. Clean white sheets. One of those blue checked hospital gowns she saw on daytime soap opera television. She tested her fingers and toes, bending her knees slightly.

  She could move. Her right leg hurt—a lot—and her left hand, but otherwise she seemed fine. Not too much pain elsewhere at the moment. Just groggy as heck.

  Marla’s face came into view. “Hey, sleepy head. How do you feel?’

  Allie blinked slowly. “Um, okay, I guess.”

  “You scared the heck out of us—the whole town, actually.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Monday morning. And breakfast just arrived.”

  Allie glanced at the hospital tray coming toward her. Loaded with scrambled eggs, a biscuit, and a cup of fruit. She wasn’t hungry. Maybe some hot tea with lemon for her raging sore throat. Was she coming down sick with strep?

  “I slept all night?”

  “Sedated is more like it,” Marla said. “Sleep isn’t real in a hospital. The nurses just pretend it is.”

  “Where are my parents, and Erin?”

  “They’re at your folks’ home. They were here until midnight until—well, the staff told them you were going to be perfectly fine and finally convinced them to go home. They’ll be back to see you after you eat this hearty, well-balanced breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Allie jiggled her head, trying to shake the images swimming around her head into some semblance of coherence. “What happened? It’s all a fuzzy blur. The last thing I remember was Sean and me—arguing, as usual.” Allie’s voice croaked. Her mouth was so dry.

  “Here, have some water.” A male nurse appeared at her other side and helped her sip from a straw. The drink finally began to clear her confusion.

  Allie stared at him. The nurse wasn’t a nurse at all. It was Ethan Smith holding the cup, his face bending over her. Worry swallowed up his entire countenance.

  “Ethan,” Allie said hoarsely. “You were there. I remember now.”

  “Memory might not be a good thing,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  “Why are you here so early in the morning?” Their own argument from a few days ago flooded back into her mind and Allie flushed at the memory of when she banished him from the house.

  Marla jumped in to answer. “The man never left. He’s been here all night keeping watch over you.”

  A sheepish expression crossed Ethan’s face when he shrugged at her, his mouth curving up into a small smile.

  Allie bit her lips, worry rising up her belly. “Tell me the truth. Am I scarred? Am I ugly—” her voice broke. She wanted a mirror to assess the damage, but if she was maimed Allie hoped she never saw her reflection again.

  Ethan snatched up her un-bandaged, unhurt hand. “Not a chance, Allie. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. No matter what happens to you, I’ll never stop thinking that.”

  Allie couldn’t let him get away with it. “Liar,” she sputtered.

  Ethan shook his head. “I don’t lie.”

  Allie arched an eyebrow.

  “Except when I’m trying to hide my bank account.”

  Laughter sputtered up her chest, and then Allie had a coughing fit. Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder, but Allie didn’t want him feeling sorry for her.

  “I don’t get it,” Marla complained. “What’s the joke?”

  Ethan gave her a mysterious smile. “A private one.”

  That just made Allie laugh again, but fear was growing in her chest. “Okay, give it to me straight, you guys. What’s the damage? I’m on pain meds so I can’t tell. My left hand is bandaged so I’m assuming it’s burned.”

  Before Marla or Ethan could answer her, a doctor walked in wearing the usual white lab coat over hospital scrubs, and carrying a clipboard. Short white hair curled around her ears. A hospital badge dangled around her neck, but Allie couldn’t read the small print.

  “I’m Doctor Hancock and you are a lucky young woman, Miss Strickland.”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell her,” Ethan said. His hand slipped slowly down Allie’s arm, and when he touched the skin just above her wrist a shiver ran down her neck.

  She could tell he wanted to hold her hand, but he was sitting on her left side where the white gauze made a definite barrier to any sort of skin contact.

  “I’m a little numb on different parts of my body. Do I have bandages on my head or face that I can’t see? Do I still have a nose, or a mouth?”

  The doctor smiled. “Your face is perfectly fine, no burns. The only burns you have are your left hand and on your right thigh. A small spot on your stomach only needs Neosporin for a few days and shouldn’t scar at all.”

  Allie swallowed hard, wondering if she’d ever be able to sit down and type at a keyboard or throw a ball, or play the piano. Not that she was a pianist, but she wanted to know she still had options.

  “What’s the treatment from here on out?” she asked.

  “In two days you’ll come to my regular office and we’ll change the bandages. Probably two or three times and then the bandages come off and some ointments and salves will do the rest of the work. Your skin will be tender for a few weeks, but after that, you’re going to be like new again.”

  “Really? That’s all?” Allie could still see the flames and hear the crashing of the roof in her mind. She shuddered with a sudden chill.

  “You’re a lucky girl, Allie,” Doctor Hancock repeated with a smile. “Discharge papers are here. Can you sign them or do you want someone else to do that, if you’re not feeling up to it.”

  “Discharge?” Allie echoed. “You mean I’m leaving?”

  “No reason to keep you here. The burns are second to a minus third degree level so you’re good to go. Don’t get the skin or bandages wet. Follow the release instructions. I’ll see you in my office in forty-eight hours. The appointment time is on the paperwork.”

  Doctor Hancock gave a wave and strode out the door to her next patient.

  There was a moment of silence and then Allie turned to Ethan. “I want to hit you. You’re sitting there all—all emotional—and I’m fine. Or I will be, I guess.”

  He gazed into her face. “I was
worried. All night. You looked really hurt when I helped put you into the ambulance. There’s nothing left of the fry shop—it was sobering to watch all those volunteer fire fighters running with their gear and hoses down to the river—but it burned to the ground.”

  Allie let out a moan, thinking of her parents’ livelihood gone. “I need to see Mom and Dad. Where are my regular clothes?” She tried to sit up, but her head spun. That was probably the pain killers, too.

  “Slow down,” Marla answered. “Your clothes went to the hospital incinerator. Charred right off your body.”

  Allie bit her lips, her eyes darting away from Ethan’s face.

  “Don’t worry. I brought clothes from home.” Marla held up a small suitcase. “Ethan let me inside the house.”

  Allie gulped in air. “I guess I never asked Ethan for the key when he left on Saturday.”

  “When you told me to leave,” he reminded her. “And it is my key,” he said, his mouth twitching in amusement.

  Marla glanced between them. “Sometimes I think you two are talking in code.”

  “We won’t get into past history.” Allie shifted uncomfortably on the raised hospital bed. Quickly, she pulled the sheet up, realizing that she didn’t have any underwear on.

  Ethan’s eyes crinkled. “We have plenty of time to argue again.”

  Allie signed the papers and a nurse took them, returning a few minutes later to take her vitals. “We’re not letting you go quite yet, young lady,” the woman said.

  “So . . . um, anybody seen Sean Carter around Heartland?” Allie tried to be nonchalant, but she was curious. The last time she’d seen him she’d pushed him away when he attacked her with that horrible kiss—just before the vat of hot oil tipped over.

  Ethan glanced down and Marla licked her lips before unzipping the suitcase to check the contents.

  “What aren’t you two telling me?”

  Marla hung up one of her summer dresses on the hook of the bathroom door. “Do you want to tell her, or shall I?”

  Ethan brushed his thick bangs out of his eyes. He rose from his chair. “Wow. Well.”

  “You’re actually speechless?” Allie asked, giving him a smirk.