by Erica Penrod
“I am deeply sorry for your loss,” Mr. Sanders said at the edge of the stairs. “But Danny was the chief accountant for many of my important clients.” He paused. “And there are a lot of unanswered questions, missing account information, et cetera.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said, feeling light-headed.
“Large sums of money seemed to have been misplaced.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Cassie leaned into the doorframe. Bile churned in her empty stomach as she watched his cloaked demeanor reveal itself. His handsome features were weapons, sharp and deadly.
“I do hope you will let me know if anything comes to mind. It would be a shame for you and your young sons to be faced with any other unfortunate accidents.”
After that day, Sanders’s men pursued her and her parents, wanting money she knew nothing about. When Cassie moved to Utah, she hoped Sanders would eventually give up and leave them alone. The miles of separation made her feel better, but she knew it was only an illusion; he could find her whenever he wanted.
In the beginning, she didn’t believe he’d bodily harm her, but now she felt different … as if he were desperate enough to put her in the ground next to Danny as a form of down payment.
Somehow, someway, there has to be an end, she thought, chewing on her thumbnail, but Cassie had no idea how to keep Danny’s monsters from climbing out from underneath her bed like a recurring nightmare. She could lock them in the closet one at a time, but it was a temporary fix. Moving to Utah seemed like a safe distance between her and the dark, but now she knew ghosts could follow you anywhere.
9
“I call dibs,” Elle said, and bumped Skyler with her hips. “I get that seat.”
It was the middle of September, the autumn sunset was undetectable in the darkened theater room. Five large, leather recliners made up one row, and there were four layered sections facing the giant screen. The chairs reminded Cassie of first-class airplane seats on steroids. She looked around, ready to see a flight attendant appear with hot towels. Skyler helped Rhett into a chair, and Ryder climbed into another seat opposite Elle. A 1950s ice cream shop style bar with red leather-topped stools lined the back row. The bar was adjacent to a kitchen, complete with modern amenities disguised in antique charm—an unexpected find in a house dominated by western culture.
A popcorn machine stood in the corner, humming while tiny kernels burst into buttery clouds, billowing into a mound behind the glass. Kip ran the soda machine, filling tall glasses of root beer dripping with vanilla ice cream.
“Hurry up,” Skyler hollered to her brother. “It’s about to start.”
“I told you,” he said, spilling some of the float down his shirt, “I really don’t want to watch this.” He wiped at the spots. “There’s always DVR, and you can watch it anytime you want, especially when I’m not around.”
“No, we want to see it when it premieres,” Elle said.
“You should see my Instagram,” Skyler said. “All my friends are watching, and I don’t want to be the last to know what happens.”
“I can tell you what happens,” he said, returning to his task.
“No!” the girls shouted.
Cassie laughed and offered a hand, taking two of the glasses from the counter.
“Thanks,” he said. He puffed out a breath, lifting the hair off his forehead. He hadn’t made eye contact with anyone all evening, and he spilled just about as much soda as he poured.
Cassie made it a point not to watch any more of Kip’s television appearances after he disappeared to Texas. The less she thought about him and their almost kiss, the better. Her involuntary reactions to him only led to more aggravation. In his proximity her heart accelerated, making her vulnerable despite her mind stomping on the brakes. After his phone call from Michael Sanders, things had become awkward. The kind of awkward where someone isn’t being completely honest, and it wasn’t her. He hesitated when she asked about his attorney, but the look in his eyes told her what she needed to know—he was one more man she couldn’t trust.
“Can you make the boys’ drinks about half that size?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze longer than necessary. There was something there, something determined and protective; at the same time, he appeared vulnerable.
The combination had her knees melting out from under her. “No problem.” Carrying the glasses, she walked cautiously down the steps, handing each girl a dessert.
“Thanks,” they said in unison.
Kip continued to fill cups, so she sat a couple rows behind the kids. Distracted by the popcorn in their hands, the boys didn’t notice the absence of their root beer floats, but that was only a matter of time. She anticipated the war cry any minute now, which she was happy to answer. The less time she spent in the theater tonight, the better. She wanted to miss the season premiere of The Cowboys, but didn’t know how to decline without the girls becoming interested in her motives or giving Kip a reason to think she was avoiding him or his show.
Kip and Cassie were amiable since he’d arrived two days ago, but she didn’t miss the looks that passed between the girls when they were all in the same room. They watched her every move with an air of anticipation. Interrogation by teenagers seemed like an awful way to go down, so she played it cool. She figured there would be no need for a confession without a motive, so she planned to act as if Kip’s return had no effect on her.
A root beer float appeared in her peripheral vision. She turned her head and took the glass from Kip. “Thanks,” she said, and watched as he handed mugs to Rhett and Ryder.
The opening shot appeared, and the theme song erupted from the walls and ceiling. The sound system contended with any theater Cassie had ever been in. She sipped through her straw, but the ice cream was uncooperative and thick.
“May I sit here?” she heard, as she slurped the dripping mixture from her straw. Brown eyes better than hot fudge watched her. Kip waited for her response, that darn vulnerability making him hard to resist.
“Um, sure,” she said, sitting up in her chair. With all the available seating, why did he have to choose the one next to her?
He sat down, and for one brief second, his scent smothered her senses like a truth serum. Shaking her head, she felt the sugary sweet syrup on her tongue, while the aroma of popcorn dripping with golden calories permeated her sinuses. Normally welcome sensations, her head spun and her stomach felt uneasy.
Kip balanced two bags of popcorn and a glass on his lap. Cup holders with small snack trays divided the armrest between their chairs, and he placed his miniature volcano erupting with foam into one. He pulled napkins from his shirt pocket, offering her one, along with a little red-and-white-striped sack of popcorn. Cassie quickly set her float next to his and took them from his hands. Their fingers brushed, and a few kernels toppled over the sides as she cringed. I’ve got to pay better attention.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as she bent over to scoop them up. “We’ll get it all at once.” He smiled at her and picked up his glass, licking the side where vanilla goodness had melted. “When this painful experience is finally over.”
Cassie was trapped. Don’t look in his eyes, and certainly don’t stare at his mouth. Hoping for neutral territory, she looked at his nose, sitting perfectly proportioned between his cheekbones. There was nowhere to go, so she said, “Thanks,” and stared right at the screen. And there he was again, all perfect cowboy and sexy dimples. She exhaled and threw a handful of popcorn in her mouth.
“Hey,” Kip said, “before this starts—”
She turned to him, her cheeks protruding like a chipmunk’s in a nut factory. She stopped chewing.
“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” He lowered his voice as the music stopped and dialogue began on the show. “About what happened before I left … about everything.” He slid down in his seat. “Especially about what you’re about to see.”
&nbs
p; She nodded and heard his voice in surround sound. Her skin rippled as she shifted towards the screen. Wow. Unable to resist, she compared him to the man sitting next to her as she studied his magnified features during a close-up. She chewed slowly and quietly, not wanting to miss anything.
“That’s Kip, that’s Kip!” the boys shouted.
“SSSHHH,” Skyler said.
Watching Kip perform on the reality show made Cassie realize he wasn’t acting at all. The person he was around her and her children was the same one she saw galloping off into the sunset on the giant TV screen. She watched him with Jaxon and saw the same look on his face when he spoke to his little sisters, and knew it was genuine. This episode followed him to their cutting horse facility in Texas, where Kip watched as a trainer tuned the horse on a couple of cows. Then it was his turn, and he climbed in the saddle, preparing to practice for an upcoming show.
Completely oblivious to what was happening around her, she startled when she saw the empty chair next to her. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Kip standing at the sink, his sleeves rolled up and washing dishes. Before she could stop herself, she got up and walked into the kitchen.
She leaned on the bar. “Hey.”
Kip pulled his hands from the water and dried them on a towel. He smiled, but didn’t say anything. His usually vivacious eyes were sullen, and an unfamiliar look on his face that Cassie couldn’t quite explain caught her off guard.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He hung the towel over the oven handle. “I can’t stand to see myself on TV, but the girls want me here.”
“I guess that would be weird,” she said, finding a seat on the barstool.
Kip took the seat next to her. Why did he have to sit so close? “I think as long as I’m in the vicinity, it should count,” he said.
“I would think so.”
“So tell me how the rodeos went. What did I miss since I’ve been gone?”
Cassie faced him. “Well, the short version is that we survived. I didn’t lose anyone, and the girls brought home several buckles to add to their collections.”
“Sounds like you got it figured out.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say I’ve managed to get the girls there on time, but anything regarding our four-legged friends—well, that’s Jack’s department.”
Kip drummed his fingers on the counter. “I was worried you’d be intimidated by old Jack.”
“No,” Cassie said. “I don’t know what I would do without him. He reminds me of my dad, in some weird sort of way.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said. “Oh, and my parents came for a few days. So that was good.”
“I bet the boys were happy to see them.”
“Yeah, they were and so was I,” she said. “How was your trip?”
Kip exhaled. “Good; just glad to be home. Television interviews are not my favorite.”
“Why not?” Cassie asked.
“For one thing, they insist I wear makeup, something about the lighting.” He rolled his eyes. “So that really doesn’t go over well with me.”
Cassie laughed, imagining Kip propped in a chair with tissues tucked in his collar and being attacked by a blush brush. Once her thoughts returned to the present, she noticed Kip watching her.
“I wonder why we can’t always talk like this?” he asked, placing his hand on her knee. She glanced down, and before she could do anything, he took it back.
“I don’t know,” she said. “You just know how to push my buttons.”
His dimples flashed. “Oh, and which buttons would those be?”
“The ones that make me see fire.” She punched his arm playfully.
“Fire can be good.” He rubbed his arm.
“Not this kind of fire.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said. “But at least you feel something when I’m around. What’s that old saying?” He was enjoying himself. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”
“In your case, there’s a huge divide.” She stood up, but not quick enough. He blocked her exit.
“And which side are you on?” He took her hand and came closer.
“I … I … I don’t know,” she said, pulling back.
Dropping her hand, he moved in and touched her face, not once taking his eyes away from hers.
Remember, remember, she pleaded with herself, you can’t trust him. His eyes were so intimidating, and she closed hers. But what if I want to?
His breath was on her face, and at any moment she knew she’d feel his lips on hers …
“Hi, Kip, how’s my cowboy doing?”
Cassie’s eyes opened, and she turned her head towards the screen in time to see a long-legged Southern belle put her lips on Kip’s. Without a word, she left the theater room.
* * *
Later that night, Cassie tucked the boys in bed after their bath and closed the door behind her. She picked up their wet towels, walked to the bathroom, and hung them up. She couldn’t quit thinking about almost kissing Kip—again! Emotions flooded her body, pushing her heart against the wall. He was a heartache dressed in cowboy boots, and why she needed to be reminded of that every time he came around, she’d never know.
Hoping to oxygenate her blood and get rid of any toxins poisoning her judgment, she peeked in the door and checked on the boys one more time before she stepped out onto the deck for some fresh air.
French doors opened from her room onto a Travertine tiled patio, held captive by a thick wooden railing. It was divided into sections, each made up of carved beams arching into the shape of crescent moons pierced with spindles of black iron. Heavy wood, stained slightly darker than the bottom pieces, ran horizontally along the top of the entire enclosure, giving it a more finished feel. In the center, the family’s brand, an artistic compilation of the letters M, G, and B, was pressed into the wood. Cassie traced the design with her fingertips and then leaned over and rested her elbows along the solid surface.
She tucked her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and wiggled her toes in the warmth of her fuzzy socks. She inhaled. The crisp air smelled of the changing season. She could hear the soft rustle of aspen leaves quaking in the low tempered breeze. Looking into the dark, she imagined orange and yellow foliage falling to the earth with only nocturnal creatures to witness their surrender. Directly below her, the backyard sat serenely while puffs of steam swirled into the night sky from the hot tub in the gated pool area.
She didn’t know what was going on with Kip and the show, who the woman was, or if any of it was real. Sure, it was called reality television, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe there wasn’t a script involved. Besides, that Southern beauty wasn’t at all Kip’s type.
She huffed at herself. Two almost kisses didn’t mean she was Kip’s type, either. Although the longer they were apart, the stronger the desire to kiss him grew.
Wondering if the girls remembered to turn off the hot tub jets and lock up, Cassie glanced towards the pool illuminated by every window on the lower floor of the house. Deciding to double-check the whereabouts of the girls, Cassie turned towards the door. A shadow moving on the patio below caught her eye. She looked over the edge to find Kip next to the grill. He had on a denim jacket with the collar turned up, and his hands were in the front pockets of his jeans. The blue ball cap he had on earlier was pulled down low, shadowing his eyes beneath the brim.
He caught her staring. “Hi there.” He gazed upward at her.
“Hey.”
She turned too quickly, hoping to escape any awkwardness, but as she walked away he called, “Hold on a minute.”
Pivoting, she looked over the rail, but he was gone. Then she heard something peculiar paired with a couple curse words, and suddenly Kip’s hands appeared on the rail. She stepped back as he swung his leg over and landed about as gracefully as a cat in roller skates.
“Sorry about that.” He grinned, and his dimples danced in the moonlight.
“I used to be better at that.”
“Broken into many homes, have you?” she asked, feeling heady at having him climb onto her balcony. “How did you do that anyway?” She tried to look around him.
“Romeo doesn’t give his secrets away.” He blocked her with his body. His very nice body.
His words took her back to all those emotions she’d needed to clear out, and she retreated to the doorway. “Romeo?” she questioned dubiously.
Undeterred, he took a step closer to her. “Yeah, I think we make a good story.”
Didn’t Romeo die? “You mean a tragedy?”
“No,” he said, smiling as he put his hand around to the small of her back. “A love story.” He pulled her to him. “Although you are making me work for it.”
“For what?” she whispered, intoxicated by his touch. His hand was big and warm and strong against her back.
“This,” he said. She trembled as he pulled her to him. He reached up and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, and then he took her face in his hands. He leaned in … she wanted him to want to kiss her—and he did.
* * *
Pancakes sizzled on the griddle, and blueberry syrup bubbled in a sauce pan on the stove. Cassie hummed as she flipped the jacks. The boys slurped orange juice, waiting as patiently as was possible for three-year-old kids, while the girls pressed their noses to their phones, frantic over what may have happened on social media while they were sleeping. Cassie sat plates in front of the kids and began filling them.
“Someone sure sounds happy this morning,” Skyler said, setting her phone on the counter and staring curiously at the breakfast chef.
“Oh …” Cassie said nonchalantly, careful not to make eye contact.
“Yeah,” Elle said. “What’s going on?”
Just then, Kip walked in. His hair was wet, and he smelled like soap and toothpaste. “Good morning,” he said, swiping a pancake and taking a bite.
“Good morning to you,” Cassie answered. It came out chirpy, and she saw the girls’ eyes get as big as their hotcakes. “Do you want a plate?” she asked him, as she poured some more batter.
