Lost Innocence

by Jannine Gallant

  Books by Jannine Gallant

  The Siren Cove Series

  Buried Truth

  Lost Innocence

  The Born to Be Wilde Series

  Wilde One

  Wilde Side

  Wilde Thing

  Wilde Horses

  The Who’s Watching Now Series

  Every Move She Makes

  Every Step She Takes

  Every Vow She Breaks

  LOST INNOCENCE

  JANNINE GALLANT

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  BURIED TRUTH

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Jannine Gallant

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-5161-0376-8

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0377-5

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0377-7

  To Tara, my smart, strong, determined,

  wonderful daughter.

  Your commitment to everything you do will take you far.

  I wish you nothing but the best!

  Chapter One

  The day she’d dreaded had arrived.

  The roar of a diesel engine blasted through the tranquility of a May morning and sent the mother robin perched on her nest into flight. Nina Hutton dropped her paintbrush onto the ledge of her easel and scowled. Rarely did a vehicle venture down her dead-end street, let alone one emitting puffs of exhaust into the pristine coastal air and creating enough noise to frighten away the wildlife. Spinning on her stool, she rose to her feet and stared in the direction of the disturbance. Not that she could see squat from the seclusion of her backyard.

  Finally, the rumble of the engine died, doors slammed, barking erupted, and a high-pitched squeal pierced the sudden silence. “Daddy, look! Our new house matches my dress.”

  A deep male voice responded, too low for Nina to make out the words over excited yelps and the clatter of metal against metal. She softly swore. The For Sale sign planted in the yard of the run-down Victorian across the street had disappeared the previous month. Apparently, the new owners had arrived. So much for peace and solitude. . .

  Since the subject of her current painting was winging its way through the brilliant blue sky, there was little reason not to satisfy her curiosity as the voices faded in and out. Openly gaping at her new neighbors wasn’t an option, not when she could spy on them from an upstairs window. After cleaning her brushes and stowing her paints, Nina left the easel where it stood near the big madrone tree with its nest of baby robins, crossed the yard to the back deck, then entered her house through the open sliding door.

  Sunlight pierced the high windows in the main room, catching dust motes in the beams. She sniffed the aroma of beef stew slow cooking in the Crock-Pot as she skirted around the green suede couch and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Entering her bedroom, she dropped down onto the padded window seat, then adjusted the blinds to peek out.

  A big yellow moving van stood in the middle of the cul-de-sac with a loading ramp leading from its rear to the ground. Beyond it, a dark blue pickup was parked in the driveway of the house across from hers. Two men in uniform shirts struggled to haul a tall armoire up the steps of the wraparound front porch, while a third man wearing a black T-shirt stretched tight across his broad back followed them, carrying a large box labeled Books in bold red marker. A series of expletives from one of the movers—unsuitable for the ears of the small girl running in circles on the weedy patch of lawn, chased by a white and tan ball of fur—drifted upward on the breeze.

  She wondered where the child’s mother was. Probably inside, trying to figure out where to put the furniture. The girl couldn’t be more than six or seven, all arms and legs in a princess dress of pink tulle that was indeed the same color as the house. Blond hair had been pulled back in a ratty ponytail. Despite the girl’s high-pitched shrieks, which complemented equally shrill canine yapping, Nina smiled.

  The man in the black T-shirt emerged from the front entrance a few moments later—minus the box—and raised his voice to be heard. Thankfully, both the child and the dog piped down. When he reached the street, he fisted his hands on his hips and glanced in Nina’s direction.

  Nina quickly ducked out of sight. Gorgeous was the word that sprang to mind. The short sleeves of his T-shirt clung to well-defined biceps, while brown hair with a hint of a wave topped the most handsome face she’d seen outside a movie theater. Silvery eyes narrowed against the sun above a straight nose and strong chin. The man reminded her of Clint Eastwood back in his spaghetti Western days. All he needed was a battered cowboy hat, a poncho, and a cigar clamped between those white teeth.

  “Wow. Just wow.” She settled more comfortably against the cushions as her new neighbor disappeared into the moving van only to return a few seconds later carrying a white painted headboard in one hand and a box labeled Kitchen in block letters beneath the other arm. If she had to sacrifice the peace and quiet she’d enjoyed since the last tenant—a rock-n-roll wannabe who’d spent most evenings practicing on his drums—moved out, at least the new owner of the dilapidated Victorian was easy on the eyes. Very easy.

  Best of all, she could enjoy his beauty with no internal pressure since he was obviously a family man and unavailable. She clenched her fist around the edge of the windowsill. Over the last six months, she’d honestly tried to put herself out there on the social front, only to wind up disappointed and aching . . . missing Keith. Accepting the fact that she was happier alone was easier on her and any potential suitors who invariably failed to live up to her unrealistic expectations.

  When her cell phone chimed, she pulled it out of the pocket of her jeans, happy to escape her thoughts, and glanced at the display. A smile formed as she answered. “Hey, Leah.”

  “Hey, yourself. What do you have going on today?”

  “I was working before
my subject flew away. Why? Aren’t you at school?”

  “Recess. Can’t you hear the kids screaming in the background?”

  “Not over the commotion next door.”

  Nina glanced out the window as a string of oaths blistered her ears through the open window. One of the moving men stood at the end of the ramp next to a carved oak bookcase, rubbing his right shin. Thankfully, the girl and dog had disappeared, presumably ordered inside out of hearing range.

  “What’s going on next door?”

  She returned her attention to the conversation with one of her oldest and dearest friends. “The people who bought the Victorian are moving in this morning. I can barely hear myself think over the ruckus, let alone focus on painting.”

  “Oh, yeah? What are they like?”

  “The man is drool-worthy, probably a little older than us, and his daughter is cute but loud. Their dog is small and yappy. I haven’t seen the wife or girlfriend or whoever yet. She must have gone inside before I set up watch from my bedroom.”

  “You’re spying on them?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d probably walk across the street and introduce myself. Did that thought ever occur to you? Maybe welcome them to the neighborhood.”

  “The guy’s too busy flexing his muscles.” Nina gave the hottie an appreciative stare as he hauled a rolled-up rug slung over one shoulder into the house. “Literally, since he’s busy unpacking a moving van. I’m sure his partner is equally occupied. There’ll be plenty of time to meet them later.”

  “I suppose so, but not this afternoon. The bridesmaid dresses finally arrived. Can you meet me and Paige at All Dressed Up for a fitting? Three o’clock sharp.”

  “Says the woman who’s chronically late. Of course I can.” She leaned an elbow on the windowsill. “I can’t believe you and Ryan are getting married next month. The time has flown by since he proposed last fall.”

  “I know, right? I can’t wait to say I do. Oh, crap, the bell is ringing. I need to herd the little monsters back into the classroom. See you this afternoon, Nina.”

  The phone went dead before she could respond. Sticking it back in her pocket, Nina glanced down as the movers finally maneuvered the bookcase inside. Spying was getting a little old. Maybe the mother robin had returned to her nest, and she could get back to work on the painting Miss Lola had commissioned. Sliding off the window seat, she headed downstairs but stopped when she reached the deck door.

  The munchkin hadn’t gone inside after all. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back in front of the easel while her furry companion sniffed the base of the tree before squatting to pee. Sliding open the screen, Nina stepped out onto the deck.

  The child turned to regard her. “How come you didn’t finish the picture? The bird’s feathers look funny.”

  “Because the robin flew away when your moving truck drove up.” Nina crossed the yard to the young girl’s side. “Does your mom know you’re over here?”

  Her uninvited guest rocked back and forth on pink tennis shoes. “Daddy says my mommy watches me all the time. She always knows where I am.”

  While Nina struggled to imagine any mother turning a child who couldn’t be much more than six loose in an unfamiliar neighborhood, she didn’t argue. “I’m Nina. What’s your name?”

  “Keely. It means beautiful. My daddy says I was a very pretty baby, but a mean boy in my kindergarten class told me I look like a giraffe because I have long legs.”

  “Calling people names is definitely not nice, but giraffes are graceful and majestic.”

  “Majestic. I like that word.” She gave a little hop and a skip. “Where did Coco go?”

  “Your dog?” When Keely nodded, Nina turned her to face an upended rump as the dog sniffed a clump of ferns, tail wagging. “There she is. She’s very pretty, just like you.”

  The girl smiled. “Coco’s a paplon. I love how the fur hangs off her ears. It’s soft.”

  “You mean a papillon?”

  “That’s what I said, a paplon. Come on, Coco. Let’s go.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Keely. Tell your parents I’ll stop by to introduce myself sometime soon.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, and ran off without another word to disappear around the side of the house. After giving the ferns a final sniff, the dog followed.

  When a chorus of cheeping erupted above her, Nina glanced up and smiled. The mother robin had returned, and the babies in the nest were making it clear they were on the verge of starvation. She settled at her easel and resumed work. Not that painting birds was her true passion, but sometimes artistic zeal took a back seat to paying the bills. Miss Lola was a steady customer and bird enthusiast with deep pockets, and Nina had learned the hard way you did what was necessary to survive.

  Two hours later, she put the finishing touches on the painting. Shading the orange of the mother robin’s breast and adding a protective gleam to her eye. Instilling a sense of urgency in the gaping mouths and stretched, scrawny necks of the hatchlings. Curling the edges of the thin bark peeling away from the madrone tree. Satisfied with the results, she cleaned her brushes, put away her paints, and then rose from her stool.

  As she headed straight to the kitchen, her stomach rumbled. Probably because she’d had nothing but a yogurt for breakfast, and it was well past noon. After making herself a turkey sandwich on wheat, she peeked out the kitchen window. Silence reigned next door. Apparently the movers were on a lunch break since the truck was still parked in the street, blocking her view. No matter. She could squeeze her Mini Cooper around it. Maybe she’d drive down to the beach for a run before she met her friends for the dress fitting.

  Biting into her sandwich, Nina climbed the stairs two at a time to her room, where she tossed her paint-stained shirt and jeans into the hamper before sorting through her dresser drawer for a pair of shorts and a tank top. She finished eating while tying on her running shoes, then paused downstairs at the kitchen sink to chug a glass of water.

  Heading outside, she stopped at the end of her driveway and surveyed the limited stretch of pavement between her front lawn and the van through narrowed eyes. The Mini Cooper was small, but not that tiny. Backing out would seriously endanger either the car’s shiny red paint or her grass. She rounded the end of the truck at a fast clip and smacked straight into a hard, T-shirt-clad chest. Her nose mashed against the pulse beating at the man’s throat, and when she drew in a breath, a woodsy scent teased her nostrils. Strong arms closed around her as they both wobbled and swayed before her new neighbor steadied her and took a step back.

  “Sorry about that.” He assessed her from the top of her head to her running shoes, and a hint of appreciation entered those silvery eyes. “You make quite an impact.”

  “I guess I should look where I’m going.” Her slightly breathless tone annoyed her no end. Getting flustered over a married man, no matter how hot he might be, was pointless. “I’m Nina Hutton.” She extended her hand. “Welcome to our little corner of the neighborhood.”

  A warm palm gripped hers. “Nice to meet you. I’m Teague O’Dell.” When he released her hand, he waved toward the thick woods surrounding them. “I love the seclusion here. It’s the reason I bought this place. A far cry from the Southern California suburbs.”

  “You moved to Oregon from Los Angeles?”

  “We lived in Encino, which is in the L.A. area. After . . . well, I wanted a complete change, small town instead of urban sprawl.”

  “Siren Cove certainly offers that.”

  “This house needs a lot of work, but I don’t mind.” He regarded her steadily. “I just want a safe place where I don’t have to worry about my daughter if she wants to play in the yard.”

  “You found it.” She gave him a quick smile, wondering if he was always so serious. “Uh, I’d love to meet the rest of your family, but I was on my way out for a run on the beach. Do you think someone could move the truck?”

  “Of course.
Sorry, I didn’t realize we were blocking your driveway. I’ll go get the keys, and hopefully we’ll have the van unloaded and out of here in another hour or so.”

  “No worries. Nice to meet you, Teague, and good luck with the unpacking. I don’t envy you that task.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be hip-deep in boxes for weeks.”

  He hurried away, presumably to retrieve the keys, and Nina climbed into her car to wait. A minute later, the truck engine fired up with a roar, followed by a shout from Teague. Her gaze was glued to the rearview mirror as he raised the metal ramp, biceps bulging beneath the weight, to slide it into the truck before the driver pulled forward out of her way.

  After backing to the end of the driveway, she returned her new neighbor’s wave, then accelerated down the street. “Oh, my. Mr. Hottie O’Dell is eye candy with a capital C.” She couldn’t help wondering what Keely’s mother looked like. Probably Malibu Barbie.

  Turning at the corner, she pressed harder on the accelerator to send her little car flying down the coast road south of town. One thing was certain, she needed to stop salivating over attached men, no matter how hot. Since pulling off a relationship seemed beyond her capabilities, for now, she’d simply run off her frustrations.

  Nina parked in the half-full lot above the beach and followed the winding trail down to the water’s edge, then ran facing into the wind. Her shoes pounded the sand in a steady rhythm as the salt spray off the waves dampened her arms and legs. Out near the breakwater, the three monolithic rocks that gave Siren Cove its name stood sentinel over the town. Her breathing came in harsh pants as she passed a handful of young women watching toddlers build castles with buckets and shovels. She recognized a couple of the mothers and nodded in greeting but wasn’t tempted to join them.