Constant (The Confidence Game Book 1)

by Rachel Higginson

  Not when I had decided that Sayer wasn’t supposed to be in my life, he was supposed to be gone already. Yet here he was, carving out a permanent place for himself in the brotherhood.

  And in my heart.

  Chapter Seven

  Present Day

  “Mommy, can we get ice cream?” Juliet asked excitedly as we walked main street Wednesday evening.

  I’d felt too cooped up in our apartment, too imprisoned by close walls and a life that felt like the lie that it was. The weather was cooling down, so we wrapped up in warm cardigans and scarves and headed for supper at our favorite diner. Then I tucked her little hand into mine and we strolled the sidewalks like tourists, browsing gift shops and T-shirt stands.

  “I don’t know,” I hesitated. “I only buy ice cream for little girls with manners.”

  Realizing her mistake, she started bouncing on her toes. “Please, Mommy. Please?”

  She had the sweetest voice, a little raspy and a whole lot innocent. I never wanted to forget how she said her words with childish excitement that melted my heart. “Oh, good.” I smiled. “You’re a little girl with manners. Whew.”

  She grinned at me. “Does that mean we get ice cream?”

  “That means we definitely get ice cream.”

  The building with the ice cream and candy shop was old, whitewashed brick walls and creaky wood floors. There was a wraparound deck out the back door with little tables where you could watch the live music at Foote’s Rest, the outdoor BBQ joint next door.

  We grabbed our double scoop cones and headed out there to enjoy the sound of bluegrass music and an open sky where stars were just starting to make their appearance for the night. The mountain peaks had started to blend in with the backdrop overhead and the crisp air made us snuggle close together while we ate our treats.

  “Jules?” I asked when she’d made it to the cone part of her dessert and I didn’t have to keep cleaning her up every other bite.

  “Hmm?” she asked as she crunched down on the waffle cone.

  “What would you think about going on a trip?”

  “With Aunt Francesca?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. What if the three of us went someplace new?”

  “When?”

  “Soon,” I told her. “I think we need an adventure in our lives.”

  “I do too,” she agreed. “We should take me to the horses.”

  Her comment caught me off guard, but I should have been expecting it. “Um, I was thinking of an adventure with a car.” And a million miles away from this place.

  Maggie had thrown the flower away before I’d been able to get a second look at it, but I’d shown the note to Francesca. We had both been freaked out. Even days after, the memory of opening that box sent a chill down my spine.

  I had the urge to run. The need to run fast. But it wasn’t that simple.

  Frisco wasn’t DC It wasn’t easy to drum up new identifications for three people, especially when one was a child. Plus, we needed to move money. We had a big stash of cash, but we’d be leaving behind a significant amount in bank accounts. And there were other things. Stupid things. Like an irrational attachment to this place and what little friends I’d made and the mountains.

  This was where Juliet had been born. This was where we’d carved out a life for ourselves.

  I just wanted to be absolutely sure before we left all of this behind that we needed to leave it all behind.

  After the nightmares Francesca and I had abandoned in DC, this place felt too close to utopia to turn our backs on.

  Still, I wasn’t an idiot. I had our go-bags packed. I had enough cash to last us a while. And Frankie and I had a plan to get out of town at a second’s notice. If another package showed up, we were gone. We wouldn’t even open it first.

  Feeling on edge, I scanned the people eating, drinking beer and watching the band on stage. The lead singer had paused their set to take requests. Currently they were singing Piano Man by Billy Joel, which was only slightly awkward since they didn’t have a piano. But it was always a crowd favorite, and this crowd seemed to especially love it.

  “You promised to take me to the horses,” Juliet reminded me. “You said Jesse would let me ride the big ones this time.”

  I had said that. But I hadn’t really meant it.

  Jesse and I had met at one of street carnivals Frisco threw every couple months. He had been there representing the ranch, in charge of the ponies for the kids to ride. Juliet had been terrified at first. Which was fine with me. I was in no hurry to help her conquer that particular fear.

  But then Jesse had come along and somehow appealed to the courageous, brave, independent little girl inside her. He’d coaxed her onto one of his gentle ponies and then given her three rides in a row—effectively pissing off all the other moms and kids and every tourist in Summit County.

  Afterward, he’d invited us out to his ranch so Juliet could keep riding. He had claimed that he didn’t want her to regress. She lived in Colorado. It was wholly unacceptable to be afraid of horses.

  I knew he’d been flirting with me. But I also knew his reputation around town. I also knew my indomitable will.

  I just hadn’t been anticipating how charming Jesse would be. Or how much I would genuinely like and respect the guy. Our friendship had developed naturally.

  And so had his relationship with Juliet.

  Which usually I appreciated. Just not right now. Not when I was trying to get us the hell out of dodge and she was reminding me how stupidly and sentimentally attached to this place I’d gotten.

  “You’re too little for the big ones,” I argued.

  Her expression turned stubborn in all of one second. Her button nose wrinkled and her chin jutted out. “Jesse said I’m just big enough.”

  “Jesse is not your mother. He doesn’t get to tell you what to do. That’s my job.”

  “But he can sweet talk your mama into seeing it his way.”

  Juliet and I swiveled at the same time. Jesse was standing directly behind us, his hands resting on our chairs. “Jesse!” Juliet squeaked in elation at the same time I hissed, “Holy shit!”

  Jesse’s brows furrowed at my curse word in front of my daughter. I wasn’t a perfect mom, but I did try to keep colorful language at a minimum when she was around. When I was her age, I could cuss with the best of them. I was trying to save her from that childhood—the one that lacked innocence and naivety and wholesomeness.

  “You scared me,” I told him by way of an explanation.

  He grinned back. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I saw you two sitting over here and came to say hi, but then you were talking about me. So…”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You eavesdropped for a while?”

  His smile turned guilty. “Just a little bit.”

  This man! Unbelievable. “Your penance is to explain to this darling little girl that she is too small for the big horses.”

  “Wh-what?” His big man hands dropped helplessly to his side and he looked totally crushed. “But she’s not—”

  “Jesse Hasting…” I warned.

  Before he could turn his puppy dog eyes into weapons of mass destruction, the singer started another request. Juliet started jumping up and down and squealing, “Mommy! Mommy! It’s your song!”

  Jesse lifted his head and stared at the musician, listening while the beginning bars of “Sweet Caroline” came to life over the speakers.

  His low laughter was sincere when he looked back at me. “Sweet Caroline.”

  The audience echoed a boisterous, “Ba, ba, baaaa!”

  I smiled and it felt surprisingly nostalgic. “Yep. I was named after a Neil Diamond song.”

  “Oh, you were actually named after this song?” Jesse asked, his dimple popping out.

  “Yes. Yes, I was. My dad was a big fan. ‘Sweet Caroline’ is his favorite.”

  “I’m named after him too,” Juliet added.

  Jesse gave her his full attention. “Who? Your grandpa?
”

  “No, Meal Diamonds,” Juliet corrected him.

  “Juliet.” I went on to explain to Jesse, “It’s another song by Neil Diamond. Not as popular. But just as good.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know Juliet. Another of your dad’s favorites?”

  My lips lifted in something that was not quite a smile. “No.”

  I didn’t like to talk about my dad. And I really didn’t want Jesse asking questions about him. But I could sense where this was going. The door had been opened. His curiosity had been piqued. Now he would want to know if my dad was still alive. And did I ever go visit him? And what brought me to Frisco to begin with.

  I stifled a groan. People were so obnoxiously predictable.

  But Jesse surprised me by saying, “You could have gone with ‘Cherry.’”

  I stared at him and blinked. “You really know your Neil Diamond.”

  He shrugged. “It’s either country or oldies out here. Growing up I preferred oldies.”

  For some reason that made me like him even more. I pictured a teenage Jesse, white T-shirt and dirty Levi’s, skinny arms and a six-pack of abs—because he couldn’t help it—with Neil Diamond playing on the radio in his old truck. Goose bumps pulled the hair on my arms to standing. What would my life have been like if I would have met Jesse as a kid?

  Away from DC?

  Away from the life?

  I closed my eyes briefly and imagined myself as a teenager. My heart kicked and shame fizzled through my blood, snuffing the oxygen out of me. Jesse would have hated me as a teen.

  I would have eaten him alive.

  “Jesse, when can I ride the horsies?” Juliet demanded. Her chin dripping with chocolate ice cream.

  Tilting my head, I stared at my brave, courageous, disobedient child in mortified awe. “Juliet Leighton. You cannot be serious.”

  Her innocent eyes widened with confusion. “I am serious, Mommy. I want to serious ride the horsies.”

  Giving Jesse a helpless look, I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Your mama said no to the big horsies. Remember, Jules? And unfortunately, she’s the mom, so we have to do what she says.”

  Juliet’s lips thrust forward in a pout. “You don’t got to do what she says. She’s not your mama.”

  Jesse chuckled, his laugh like a warm fire on a cold night. This man was trouble. The kind that made me envy how easy normal life could be. Usually I was better at keeping my guard up, at maintaining a safe distance between us. But tonight I didn’t have the willpower for it.

  It took work to stay away from Jesse. At first the pain from my past had been so fresh, that I didn’t have room for Jesse in my life. But now life had settled down and there were too many empty moments of my day to think about how lonely I felt.

  And how long it had been since I got laid.

  I wasn’t even sure if I remembered the mechanics of the whole ordeal at this point.

  But it wasn’t just about my more basic needs either. I hadn’t been intimate with a man in the same amount of time. I hadn’t been held or touched or told how beautiful I looked in my little black dress. I hadn’t been the center of someone’s attention or felt the constant buzzing of butterflies as we peeled back the layers and got to know one another.

  This reconsidering of my boundaries had more to do with loneliness than horniness. It was easy to turn down a date when I convinced myself it was just about the sex. It was harder to turn down Jesse Hasting when I realized the components of my life that were missing were the ones I needed the most.

  And tonight, he smelled so good. He was wearing a fuzzy lined flannel shirt and well-worn jeans and I had the craziest urge to wrap my arms around his waist, under his jacket. I wanted to press my body against his and let him remind me that I wasn’t just a mom, but that I was a woman too. That I wasn’t just a girl with a past, but a woman that had a future here.

  Here specifically.

  The mountains had worked their mysterious magic on me. I didn’t want to leave Frisco.

  I didn’t want to run again.

  I didn’t want Juliet to have to run with me.

  “How about this, Juliet. How about you let me take your mama out on a date this weekend and I’ll see if I can’t sweet talk her into letting you try out one of the big ones. Does that sound like a plan?”

  Juliet’s entire face lit up, her smile brightening the dark night with pure, innocent glee. “That sounds like a plan!”

  Jesse turned to me and waggled his eyebrows. “How about you, Caroline? Does it sound like a plan to you too?”

  “You’re unbelievable,” I told him. If only I hadn’t been smiling.

  He leaned in. “A little birdy told me you enjoy art.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Where was this going? And who had told him that?

  Jesse nodded down Main Street. “I don’t know if you heard about the new gallery opening this weekend? But Friday is opening night and I’d love to take you, Caroline.”

  Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth I tried not to look happy or flattered or interested. Juliet climbed on my lap and I pulled her against me, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist. She turned her face and kissed my cheek. “Please, Mommy? Please go with Jesse and talk about the big horses?”

  I slowly shook my head at Jesse. This was impressive. He’d managed to con me—the con! I was trapped between my relentless affection for my daughter and his stupidly adorable dimple!

  Plus, I really did want to go to the gallery opening. The name had caught my attention first. The DC Initiative.

  It reminded me of home. The good parts of home.

  I’d asked around about it in town and apparently the owners were wealthy business guys from back east. A few years ago, that would have freaked me out and sent me into a tailspin of panic until I met them. But after spending some time in Summit County, I was familiar with wealthy people moving here from either coast. They bought up rental properties and tourist shops like they were playing Monopoly. They never lived here permanently, but they sure managed to make a whole lot of money from a distance.

  The DC Initiative was apparently another east coaster trying to make a quick buck by offering the tourists a bit of culture. It was supposed to be part fine art gallery and part swanky cocktail lab or something.

  I’d also resigned myself to the realization that it wasn’t going to be kid friendly and I would have to wait a very long time before I got to check it out.

  Jesse’s offer was a dangling carrot in front of a starving bunny.

  “I don’t know,” I told him. “I’d have to find a babysitter and on Fridays we usually do—”

  “Aunt Francesca could watch me!” Juliet offered. “We can do pizza night without you one time.” She turned to face me with folded hands in the prayer position. “Please, Mommy. Please, please, please!”

  Well, it was true. Francesca could watch her. Whatever social life she’d attempted when we first moved here had fizzled a couple years ago. Her schedule was as exciting as mine. Which meant she would have nothing going on Friday night except for a date on the couch with Juliet and me.

  Jesse held up his hands in a similarly pleading pose. “Please, Caroline? Please, please, please!”

  I dropped my head back so I didn’t have to look at these two traitors in cahoots. “Ugh,” I told the stars, feeling my resolve crumbling. “You two are bad influences on each other.”

  “I’ll have you home by ten,” Jesse added, sweetening the pot. “So you don’t miss all of movie night.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You’ve been talking to Francesca?”

  “She thought this was a great idea when we ran into each other at the grocery store the other day,” he said quickly.

  Rolling my eyes, I gave up completely, “I bet she did.”

  I breathed deeply through my nose and gave into Jesse and myself for maybe the first time in five years. “Okay, Jesse. I’ll go with you. Thank you for inviting me.”

  His smile deepened,
turning me into a melty pile of goo. “Thank you for finally saying yes. We’re going to have a great night.” His expression turned teasing. “In fact, it’s probably going to change your life.”

  My smile disappeared. I knew he was kidding, but his words hung in the air with a permanency I didn’t like.

  I didn’t want my life to change. I liked my life the way it was.

  Chapter Eight

  “What am I doing?” I felt the panic start as a pinpoint, but quickly blossom into painful streaks across my chest.

  “My hair,” the most precious giggle answered my question. “But I think you forgot.”

  I looked down at the mass of dark curls wrapped in my fingers. Juliet tipped her head back and wrinkled her button nose at me. “Did you forget about me?”

  I smiled at her. It was impossible to look at her porcelain skin, sprinkling of light freckles and dark, blue eyes and not smile at her. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And I could hardly believe I had some hand in creating her. “Never! I could never forget about you. I made you, you know. You’re ingrained in my brain.”

  Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “Then maybe you forgot you,” she concluded. “Because I’ve been sitting here forever!”

  “Okay, okay, Miss Thing. Sit still. I’m almost finished.”

  “I have been sitting still,” she grumbled.

  Her attention turned back to the TV, and this time I tried to focus on braiding her hair. My fingers weaved through her thick, soft strands as I pulled at it gently.

  Before Juliet was born, I didn’t know how to braid. I didn’t know how to do most female rituals. But it was funny what having a child forced you to learn.

  “Mommy, are you an alien?”

  I looked down at her again as I tied the hairband around one braid and moved onto the second. The question did not even faze me. “If I’m an alien then you’re an alien.”

  She giggled making that squealing sound that always made me laugh too. “I mean, are you an alien tonight? You keep forgetting to listen to me!”