Blue Moon (Blue Mountain Book 2)

by Tess Thompson

  “My dad insisted that all of us get a job once we turned fifteen. I went to work for Hope’s dad in the warehouse, doing various tasks, but I was clever with numbers and spreadsheets and that sort of thing, so I quickly moved into more of a desk job, essentially the assistant to one of the buyers—the guy responsible for procuring a lot of our materials. Again, without boring you with the details, I noticed a discrepancy in the paperwork and figured out that the metal they claimed to use for all of the parts they made for us was really a cheap version of it, one that, as it turns out, was not safe. I snuck into the office in the middle of the night and went through every piece of paper in the files and figured out that it had been going on for three years. Almost exactly the time that Hope’s family had moved to our neighborhood in Boise and started attending the same private school as me and my brothers.”

  I stared at him as this story unfolded. He paused, taking a deep sip of water. “Anyway, I told my father what I’d figured out, and once he confirmed it for himself, he cut ties with Hope’s father, recalled three years’ worth of trucks and sued for damages. He won.

  “It bankrupted them. Hope’s mother left her father for one of the attorneys that defended them in court and took Hope with her—she was their only child. Her father, by the time we graduated high school, managed to kill himself in a drunk driving accident.”

  “That’s awful,” I said.

  “Yeah, so through it all Hope and I remained friends. She sided with her mother, of course, who hadn’t known any of what was going on, and basically just divorced herself from his life, acting like she’d never had a father, which was odd because growing up she had always been a daddy’s girl and the type to fight with her mother. I have no idea how she feels now about the whole thing because she never talks about it. She rarely speaks to her mother, which is the only indication that it all still bothers her. I’m the only one she stayed in contact with from the old days. So, there you have it. I feel responsible for her, to her, all of it.”

  “But you did nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, you probably saved countless lives.”

  “While I know that’s true, I also know that my actions destroyed a family. Hope has never been the same since then. Believe it or not, she used to be kind of a sweetheart. Now we only see that side of her when she’s playing a part.” He took another large drink from his water. “Anyway, we’re not lovers. Never have been. Honestly, I wish she’d meet a decent guy and get married, but she chooses idiots every time. Ironically, all of them are liars, like her dad.”

  The waitress brought our food. Ciaran asked for a beer. I took off my coat and bit into my sandwich, without much enthusiasm. My stomach was in knots, waiting for the rest of his story. He ate several spoonfuls of his soup, both of us quiet.

  “Why do you want her to get married?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Because it would let me off the hook as her ‘go-to’ guy. I’m the person who always picks her up after her mistakes. It’s exhausting.”

  I had a sudden thought. “Maybe this is why you haven’t wanted a real girlfriend? Have you thought of that?” It was out of my mouth before I knew it.

  “That has nothing to do with it.” The waitress returned with his beer. He thanked her and set down his spoon. After taking a sip of his beer, he wrapped both hands around the pint glass.

  “Have you ever thought that she’s sabotaging you with all her drama? Keeping you from having a girlfriend because she’s in love with you?”

  “No. Absolutely not. There’s nothing between us.”

  “Maybe from your end, but I saw the way she looked at me when you introduced us.” I paused. “She acted like a crazy ex-girlfriend.”

  “No, that’s just the way she is. Bitchy. Maybe it’s true she wouldn’t be thrilled if I had someone in my life, but she knows my stance on marriage, so there’s no threat to her. I can be the best friend she calls at two a.m., and no one will care either way.”

  I thought about that for a moment. Did Hope know why he didn’t want to marry? Had he shared with her his fears? “Does she know why?”

  “No. No one but you.” His face went dark. “Okay, that’s about all I can stand on this subject.”

  I let it go. Pushing him was not a good way to get more information. As we ate our lunch, mostly in silence, I thought through what he’d shared with me. As much as I worried Ciaran was mentally disturbed, I did not believe he was a liar. If he said he wasn’t sleeping with her, I believed him. The real problem was that she knew I was sleeping with him. Women like Hope Manning made trouble. Mean girls are mean girls forever. And now I was sleeping with the man she loved. Whether she realized her feelings for Ciaran or not, I knew enough to know she would try and sabotage us if she could.

  Ciaran’s beer was almost empty, along with his bowl of soup and the chunk of bread that had come with it. Despite my lackluster interest in the food, I’d eaten most of my sandwich, when he reached across the table for my hand. “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “There are two full moons this month.”

  “Blue moon. I love that,” I said.

  “Full moons are special, right? And if there are two this month, that means something.”

  “I’m not following,” I said.

  “I think we should stay through New Year’s. Just the two of us out at my house. No one has to know if you went back to Portland or not. We can just have a month of fun with no obligations to anyone.”

  “One month?”

  “Right. Why not enjoy each other’s company and check out for awhile? Enjoy the full moons.”

  A whole month with this man and no work? Nothing had ever sounded better in my entire life. “What about Hope?” I asked.

  “She’ll be gone in a day or two. It’s way too boring here for her. Plus, she’ll start jonesing for the press. She’ll do something to make sure they know where she is.”

  “But why would she miss them? They hound her.”

  “She likes it. Feeds her ego to think everyone’s interested in her every move.”

  “Actresses.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t I know it?”

  “Don’t remind me how well you know it,” I said.

  He laughed. “I told you not to believe everything you read in the papers.”

  “You’re not worried I’m going to get attached to you if we’re together a whole month?” I asked, teasing.

  He shook his head, smiling. “You’re not capable of getting attached to me or anyone. That’s why you’re perfect for me.”

  “And Sam?”

  “He’ll be the only one who’ll know we’re staying here together, but if you ask him to keep it quiet, I’m positive he will.”

  That was true, except that Moonstone seemed to be able to read his thoughts. But she wouldn’t say anything if I asked her to keep our secret. But still, it was such a big lie to tell Blythe. “You know, it isn’t like we’re never going to see one another after the month ends. There are endless family holidays in the next forty years.”

  “Doubtful I’ll be at any of them.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. Did he mean because of the riff between the brothers or because he wouldn’t live long enough to have to worry about it? For the hundredth time I wondered if his suspicions were true or imagined. Regardless, to spend time with him was something I wanted, I realized, as I sat across the table. Something I wanted that would lead nowhere, would open no path, but was simply pleasurable for pleasure’s sake. I thought then, how would you live if the future was not guaranteed? Would we live more as we pleased? Would we seek pleasure over esteem or ambition? For the first time in my adult life, I felt as if the future was not clear. I did not know what I wanted to do next, no plan, no ambition. And I felt free, light. Was this what it felt like to be happy in the moment? Nothing to prove. Nowhere to go. No obli
gations fueling my energy.

  Squeezing his hand, I nodded, yes. “Through New Year’s.”

  “Through New Year’s.” Then he stood, and came around the table to give me his hand. “Let’s go look at Moonstone’s new hair.”

  Chapter 25

  MOONSTONE WAS IN the lobby when we arrived back at the inn, standing in front of the mirror near the door, smiling at her reflection. Turning to us, she twirled around to let us look, with the same shy but hopeful look Clementine has when she shows me one of her new tutus. “What do you think?”

  I walked in a circle around her, amazed at the transformation. Never underestimate a good makeover, I thought. It was cut and styled exactly as we’d discussed, with long layers that fell to her shoulders except for side bangs that apparently they’d decided on after I left. I had to admit they were a great addition, taking ten years off her appearance. Bangs, the free facelift, I thought. The rich auburn color was striking and shiny.

  Ciaran took her hands. “You look beautiful. He’ll be in love with you in no time.”

  “Do you really think so?” Moonstone looked up at him with such hope in her eyes that I had a sudden image of Blythe when we were kids and our father would pick her up for their Sunday visit.

  “Where’s Ida?” I asked. “I want to thank her.”

  “She’s upstairs packing up her things. She’ll be right down,” said Moonstone, back to looking at herself.

  I remembered her nails then. “Did you make an appointment with your nail lady?” I asked.

  “Yes. This afternoon. She was surprised to hear I wanted my acrylics taken off—I’ve had them since the 90s.”

  “Moonstone, you have no idea how much that scares me,” I said, laughing.

  “Will you go with me, Bliss? There are several shops in Hailey. You could help me pick out some clothes. Get your nails done.”

  I looked over at Ciaran. “I could be back before we go out tonight.”

  “You girls go. Have fun. I’m going home to take a nap.” He winked at me. “I need a lot of energy for later.”

  I flushed several shades of red, I’m sure, as he kissed me on the cheek and headed out the door.

  A second later, Ida came down, carrying a bag, presumably packed with all her supplies. We stood, chatting for a moment in the lobby, admiring Moonstone’s hair. I wanted to pay for everything but wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but lost my train of thought when Hope came down the stairs. She’d changed into leggings and a T-shirt, and unfortunately she looked beautiful in them, right down to her perfect, tiny feet.

  We all stopped talking to look at her. She was like that—you couldn’t stop looking at her. She halted at the bottom of the stairs. Moonstone introduced herself and asked if there was anything she could get her.

  “I need a wine opener,” said Hope. “I brought several bottles of white, knowing it would be hard to find anything decent other than in Ciaran’s cellar.” She winked at me, as if I was an old friend in on an inside joke. “But I can’t locate my wine opener.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Do you want ice as well?” asked Moonstone.

  “Super. Yes,” said Hope, continuing to look at me.

  I realized Ida was standing next to me, probably hoping for an introduction. “This is Ida. Ida, Hope Manning.”

  Ida’s thin face had flushed, her gaze on her hands. “Nice to meet you. My brother loves your movies.”

  Hope flashed her movie star smile. “Just your brother? Not you?”

  “Me too. Of course. Everyone does.”

  Hope cocked her head to the side, observing Ida. “You look so familiar to me. Did you grow up in Boise?”

  “No, Minnesota.” As soon as Ida had said it, she closed her mouth, almost as if she were sorry to have admitted to her place of birth.

  “Ah, yeah, I guess I hear a hint of an accent,” said Hope, still looking at Ida like she was trying to figure out how she knew her. “Have you lived in Idaho long?”

  “On and off.” Ida continued to stare at the floor. Shy, I thought. Very sweet. If only she would eat a sandwich. It hurt to look at her, she was so thin. Maybe she was sick? As I counted out cash to pay Ida, I made a mental note to ask Moonstone.

  Right on cue, Moonstone came back with the wine opener and a bucket of ice.

  “Well, I’m off then,” said Hope. “Jet lag’s killing me, so I’m going to drink a glass of wine and take a sleeping pill.” Once more, to Ida. “I usually never forget a face, part of the trade, but I must be mistaken. Maybe you just look like someone else I know.” She took the ice and opener from Moonstone, then wriggled her fingers in a wave good-bye.

  Ida, as if suddenly snapped out of her trance, took the money from my outstretched hand and tossed the handle of her bag over her shoulder, leaving without another word.

  “What a strange little bird that one is,” I said to Moonstone.

  Moonstone whispered with a covert movement of her eyes to indicate upstairs. “Both of them.”

  “Is Ida sick? She’s so thin.”

  “The poor lambie. Eating disorder. I think it has something to do with a man in her past, but I can’t get a clear read on it.” She pointed upstairs. “Now, that one. There’s some evil lurking there.”

  Chapter 26

  THE WEEKS PASSED in a blur. Ciaran Lanigan was a party. I was the library. I did not think these two locations ever intertwined, but they had, and the result was thrilling. Ciaran, like the second full moon in a month, had appeared to sway the tide of the sea and the heart of a woman dedicated to accomplishment rather than love. I was having fun. More fun than I thought possible. We walked in snowshoes every day. I taught Ciaran yoga poses. We made meals together. He cooked and I was his faithful assistant. I had never been as happy or felt as alive. It was easy to deceive Blythe and Kevan, since I always called from my cell phone. As Ciaran predicted, Hope left Idaho after several days, much to my relief. Moonstone and Sam continued to spend time together, with Sweetheart by their side, although still in the friend zone, despite her makeover. Sam caught on quickly to the simple duties of caretaker and was a natural with horses.

  One night I dreamt that Ciaran was birthed from Blue Mountain herself, like she’d opened up and allowed this beautiful creature out into the world, yet never fully let him go, ensuring that he always found his way back to the place that made him.

  Five days before Christmas, on the floor of the front room of his house, we were wrapped in a blanket that smelled of sex and wood smoke. We’d made a bed of sorts by piling blankets and pillows near the fireplace. We had just devoured a loaf of French bread, a block of Oregon white cheddar, and the Walla Walla Syrah that Ciaran brought up from his cellar, sitting cross-legged on the pile of blankets, both of us suddenly ravenous after weeks of exercise and lovemaking. I was certain the food tasted better than anything I’d ever eaten, and he agreed. Nary a scrap of food remained on the bistro-style white plates. Our wine glasses were empty.

  “We need another bottle, but I’m too lazy to get up.” He was on his side, resting his face in his hand, his arm bent into a triangle, while I lay next to him, my head on a pillow.

  I smiled and touched his cheekbone with the knuckle of my index finger. “Later. Don’t leave me yet.” I felt young basking in the glow of that fire and Ciaran’s doting gaze, with the sound of crackling wood as it splintered in the flames. The years that had made me hard seemed to have disappeared, leaving someone soft and vulnerable. Night had come while we’d made love, warm despite the chill of the room because of our flesh on flesh and the fire, and now a half-moon hovered in the black sky.

  “How about I teach you to ski?” he said.

  “Ski? Sure. Looks fun.” This was a lie. Nothing about skiing appealed to me. It seemed cold and treacherous. No, speed was not for me. I didn’t even care for driving a car, let alone hurtling down a mountain with nothing but a coup
le of slick pieces of wood attached to my feet.

  Not only had this man rendered me a giggling schoolgirl, I was now a liar.

  * * *

  Regardless, two days later, I was on a chairlift over Bald Mountain in Sun Valley, Idaho, dressed in a new and, I must admit, stylish purple ski jacket, pants, and boots, along with these magic socks that supposedly kept your feet warm despite the fact that I was soon to be headed down a mountain in blinding snow. In addition, I had this adorable purple and gold striped angora wool hat, a gift from Ciaran, which made my amber eyes pop. Just last night he’d whispered something about my beautiful eyes as he hovered above me in bed. This thought, not the cold, caused me to shiver with desire. Regardless of the possibility of death, I looked good. This was a small comfort. At least if this was the last thing I did in a life I’d spent mostly working, I would look good.

  We continued to climb. The chairlift in front of us held three children wearing matching blue hats with green tassels. Seahawk fans, I presumed. They were everywhere, including the man next to me, outrageous in their zealous support of a football team. What were the children doing? Rocking their chair back and forth with purposeful intent? I closed my eyes for a moment, suddenly nauseous. Nothing but sex could have gotten me into this mess, I thought, stifling a small groan.

  The chair moved in the wind like a Ferris wheel basket on an evening at the state fair. The nauseous feeling continued. Don’t look down, I told myself again and again. I reached for Ciaran. He took my hand and placed it in his lap, giving it a little squeeze. You wouldn’t think with these thick gloves I could still feel his touch, but it was the same spark as always, despite the layers. I breathed in and out, lecturing myself silently. Don’t look down. Don’t start to hyperventilate. That would be exceedingly unsexy.

  I glanced at Ciaran. He gazed out over the mountain, looking ridiculously handsome in a black ski outfit and blue cap that complimented his olive skin and brown eyes. He’d shown me how to place my ski goggles onto my forehead, fixed in place over my cap, so that I could pull it down over my face when I was ready. Despite this, he wore his pair backward, so the strap was in the front, making it appear as if he had a face on both the front and back of his head.