Her annoyance must have been visible, because the smile the woman behind the reception desk greeted her with faded quickly to an expression of concern.
“Oh honey. Let me get you a chair.” She rushed from behind the counter.
“That’s not necessary,” Ainsley started to say, but her protest fell on deaf ears.
“Nonsense. Here you are.” She pulled over one of the armchairs that were grouped around a small table. Ainsley had little choice but to lower herself into it. She glanced at the woman’s nametag. “Thank you, Ms. Becker.”
“Cindy,” she said, beaming a friendly smile, and Ainsley gave her props for not commenting on the fact that she resembled a refugee from a flash flood. Ainsley’s clothes and hair had mostly dried, but she was far from looking presentable. “Are you here to check in?”
“Yes.” Ainsley gave her name and fished her credit card from her purse.
“Tidwell,” the woman said, glancing at her name and then considering Ainsley more closely. “You wouldn’t happen to be any relation to Thomas Tidwell, would you?”
“My father.”
Ms. Becker – Cindy – gave a satisfied nod. “You have the look of him. Lord, was he a handsome man. Probably still is.” She smiled again. “I’m sorry, it’s always awkward when people discuss a parent’s physical appeal, isn’t it? I went to high school with your dad, too many years ago to mention. Of course, I wasn’t a Becker then. I… oh.” She looked up from her computer, stricken. “I just realized that you’re cousins with the Paulson girl, the one who’s gone missing. Terrible thing, especially considering what happened before. So much tragedy for one family. That must be why you’re in town.”
Ainsley had forgotten how small towns worked – everyone knew everything. But the woman was so friendly and appeared genuinely concerned, so Ainsley couldn’t feel any resentment.
“It is,” she agreed.
“Well, I’m sure your aunt and Sheriff Paulson will be thankful for the support. I know many of us that work here on the square have been just sick with worry, although your aunt is certainly putting on a brave face. Just going about her business as usual, which is probably the best way to handle it. No one likes to imagine one of our young people coming to any harm, either accidentally or intentionally. Would you like a piece of candy?”
Ainsley glanced at the pumpkin shaped dish which held an assortment of wrapped goodies. “Um, sure.”
“Take two,” the woman said. “Otherwise I’ll be tempted to eat them myself. You’ll be in room one twelve,” she said, taking the candy dish and handing Ainsley back her card, all in one motion. “I put you on the ground floor so that you don’t have to attempt to navigate the stairs, although we do have an elevator, of course. Do you have luggage in the car? I can have someone bring it in for you.”
“I’ve got it.”
Ainsley turned around, surprised to see Callum standing in the doorway, her wheeled suitcase trailing behind him. She hadn’t even heard the door open behind her.
“Oh, Cal. How lovely to see you,” Ms. Becker said. “Did you have a nice trip?”
“I did,” he nodded. “My mother sends her regards.”
“She’s another one I went to school with,” the receptionist explained while Ainsley smiled back and wondered what the hell Cal was doing with her luggage. “Well then, since you have your own porter, I’ll just let you know that there’s a cocktail hour between five and six, right there in the lounge, and we also serve light hors d’oeuvres. If you need anything during your stay, just call the front desk.”
“Thank you.” Ainsley accepted her credit card and the key, and then started to rise from the chair. Cal gripped her arm to help her, cocking a single brow when she gave him a suspicious look.
She thanked Ms. Becker and then headed toward the hall she’d indicated would lead to Ainsley’s room. Cal went with her, hauling her luggage and maintaining his grip on her arm.
She stopped when she was sure they were out of earshot.
“What are you doing here?”
“Playing porter, apparently.”
“Does Ben know you’re here?”
His second eyebrow joined the first. “Let me guess – he warned you away from me.”
He had, of course, but Ainsley found his tone of condescending amusement irritating. “And I, of course, being a simpering female, am dependent upon my bigger, stronger, more sensible male relatives to choose the company I keep.”
“Well, you did ask.”
“I asked because Ben said he was going to have one of his deputies bring in my bags when he dropped off my car. I wouldn’t want to have to represent you for grand theft auto in addition to kidnapping a long-lost cousin, impeding an investigation by being unreachable by phone, joking about sending pornographic content to the sister of a law enforcement officer and whatever additional charges Ben decides to cook up since it’s more than apparent that he doesn’t care for you.”
“Actually, he despises me. But Paulson is too honorable to arrest me for something unless he has a preponderance of evidence against me.”
“So my suspicion that you temporarily retained my services primarily to annoy Ben proves to be correct.”
“Minor payback for that punch he landed.” Cal reached his free hand up to rub his jaw. “His fist packs considerably more weight than it did in high school.”
“You say that as if you know from experience.”
“Because I do. And to answer your original question, I ran into Grady Nelson – he’s the deputy who brought your car over – outside. Since I was coming in anyway, I told him I’d bring you your bags.”
She pursed her lips. “Which actually doesn’t answer my question because it fails to explain why you’re here in the first place.”
“You know, you don’t look much like my image of a lawyer, until you open your mouth.” He reached into the pocket of the plaid shirt he’d donned, fished out her phone. “You left it on the kitchen counter.”
“Oh.” Ainsley felt bad for treating him with such suspicion, when he’d gone out of his way to be helpful. Unfortunately, it was the very fact that he’d gone out of his way that made her continue to be suspicious. “Thank you. I’m not normally so forgetful. Or clumsy.”
She turned from dropping her defunct phone into her purse to find him holding out something else. She stared at it before lifting her eyes to his. “You brought me a bag of rice?”
“For the phone. Not as a midday snack.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because my mama taught me manners?”
When she glared at him, he dropped the guileless look and opened his mouth as if to respond to her. But a door opened behind them, and Cal turned instead to nod at the couple who emerged from the room. “Let’s continue this discussion in private,” he murmured when they’d moved away. And then he shot a significant look at her ankle. “You need to get off your feet, anyway.”
Ainsley scowled, annoyed that he’d been right. Although her sprain wasn’t a severe one, they’d put her in a medical walking boot anyway, just to be safe.
It was embarrassing.
Because she was annoyed and embarrassed, her tone turned snippy. “By private, I’m guessing you mean my room. Which furthermore means you presume that I’m going to invite you inside.”
“If I was going to molest you, I could have done so in the privacy of my own home.”
“You could have tried.”
Cal surprised her by grinning, and Ainsley was forced to catch her breath. A serious Callum Elias was appealing. A smiling one was lethal. She found herself wondering if indeed there was more to his relationship with Sabrina than he’d admitted to Ben. He may not be her type, but he seemed just the sort of man to whom her cousin would be attracted.
Masculine. Earthy. Artsy.
Dangerous.
“You’re looking at me as if you expect me to pull a plate of fava beans out of one pocket and a bottle of Chianti out of the othe
r.”
“Are you involved with Sabrina?”
His smile faded. “No. Not in the way you mean, anyway.”
“But there’s something you’re not saying.”
“What makes you think so?”
“As you’ve pointed out, I am a lawyer – a trial attorney – which means I’m constantly reading the body language of witnesses and jurors. You’d be amazed what people give away without uttering a word.”
Something passed behind his eyes. “Are you going to invite me to your room?”
Ainsley considered what Ben told her, what her own instincts said, and had the slightly uncomfortable suspicion that she was about to open Pandora’s Box.
He knew something. Something he hadn’t told, or maybe wouldn’t tell Ben.
And Ainsley had come here to help find Sabrina.
“Yes,” she finally said, and Cal nodded.
“Good.” He took her arm again. “The Chianti is getting warm.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE room she’d been assigned was comfortably sized – it even had a small sitting area that contained a desk and a cozy-looking loveseat – but even so Cal was uncomfortably aware of the four poster bed that constituted the centerpiece. The attraction he’d felt from almost the first moment he’d laid eyes on Ainsley Tidwell hadn’t abated, despite the lecture he’d given himself on the drive to the hotel. It was a complication he didn’t need, and ridding his life of complications was something he’d been striving for over the past few years. He wanted simplicity. Solitude, as much as was possible without becoming a recluse. Honest work that satisfied his need to create something… beautiful.
The thought embarrassed him a little, but he recognized it as the truth.
What he did not want was to become embroiled in a police investigation that involved Ben Paulson’s family or to find a member of that same family sexually appealing. It felt like walking through gasoline with a handful of lit matches, hoping he didn’t drop one.
But he’d grown to genuinely like Sabrina in the short while that she’d been working with him. He couldn’t overlook the fact that she’d gone missing right after he’d told her about the box of Carly’s stuff – and that the journals from that box were stolen around the same time.
It stretched his notion of coincidence past the breaking point.
Cal drummed his fingers on the desk and then snagged one of the candies Ainsley had laid there, leaning over to toss the wrapper in the trash. The bathroom door opened behind him, and he swiveled the desk chair around to see Ainsley emerging with a towel wrapped around her head. She was wearing fresh, dry clothes and her face was scrubbed free of makeup.
She looked alarmingly appealing.
He popped the candy into his mouth.
“Thanks,” she said, hobbling over toward the loveseat, where she sat down, stretched her injured ankle across the seat and started toweling off her hair. “I can’t tell you how good that felt.”
Cal shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He’d suggested that she go ahead and bathe and change while he was here, in case she slipped or otherwise needed assistance – for which he would call the front desk, he assured her – given the fact that she was operating with only one good foot.
Surprisingly, she’d taken him up on the offer, although she had made a point of locking the bathroom door, giving him a quelling look as she shut it.
As if he’d planned to bust in there and wash her back for her.
The image that conjured made him shift uncomfortably again, and Cal firmly put all thoughts of a naked and soapy Ainsley Tidwell from his mind. They had more important matters to discuss.
As if reading his thoughts – or part of them anyway – Ainsley sat the towel down on the loveseat beside her. Her gaze when it met his was very direct.
“What is it that you know that you don’t want to tell Ben?”
So she’d guessed as much, had she?
“But first,” she held up a hand. “I… is that my candy?”
“Mine now.”
She blinked and then shook her head. “I want to know the source of the animosity between the two of you. I can’t assess the situation without all of the information.”
Cal shifted slightly again, uncomfortable for a different reason. He started to tell her it was none of her damn business, but then he had been the one to approach her. If he was going to allow himself to be dragged into this, it would be on his terms.
But he had to concede that Ainsley was entitled to a few terms of her own.
“I had sex with his sister. Carly,” he explained when her brows shot up. “Not Sabrina. I didn’t lie about that. Sabrina and I have never had more than a friendly working relationship.”
Ainsley sat back, her eyes moving over him in an assessing manner. “I didn’t realize that Ben was so Victorian. Harboring a grudge this long seems a little excessive, unless there’s more to the offense than simple carnal knowledge. I wasn’t here very often, and I was young, but even I was aware that Carly…” she sighed. “Let’s just say she wasn’t some shrinking virgin. Unless, of course, you debauched her and set her on her course into moral decay, for which he felt duty-bound to defend her honor.”
“She wasn’t a shrinking virgin when I had carnal knowledge, believe me. But I did make the stupid, stereotypical, immature mistake of bragging about the event in the locker room after football practice. Ben closed my flapping gums with his fist. We both got suspended for fighting, and missed the most important game of the season. It was Ben’s senior year, and a college scout had reportedly come out to see him play. Needless to say, Ben didn’t get the scholarship he’d been hoping for. Then my mom married a man from Atlanta, we relocated, and, uh, I got a scholarship to the university Ben had wanted to attend. To play football. Salt in the wound.”
Ainsley stared at him for several moments and then shook her head. “How incredibly male of you both.”
Cal shrugged, feeling weird about having admitted to having sex with her cousin. Her dead cousin. Although of course she’d been very much alive at the time.
“So you weren’t living here when Carly was murdered?”
Cal shook his head. “We’d moved the month before. I heard about it, obviously. It was a shock, and it… upset me. I wish I could say that it devastated me, that I was torn up because I’d been in love with her, or that she meant something special to me, but the fact is that it was just sex. I was a dumb, callous, horny teenager. She was hot and willing. And then less than a year later she was dead.”
Ainsley considered his words. “Ben’s concern that you were involved with Sabrina makes more sense now.”
“Yeah, and I baited him,” Cal admitted “by saying that the whole town knows what she’s like. And while it may be true – Sabrina is well known for being something of a free spirit – it was a reminder of Carly’s reputation in high school. It wasn’t my finest moment. In fact, it was nearly unforgivable, despite the fact that he’d pissed me off. I owe him an apology.”
“But will you deliver it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I will.”
“If you’re willing to face him for that, why did you come to me with whatever it is that you’re withholding?”
“Given the circumstances, do you think that it’s likely Ben will believe me when I say that I think Sabrina was involved with someone who definitely wasn’t me, but someone whose identity I don’t know, or do you think he’ll think I’m attempting to deflect suspicion from myself?”
She considered again, and then smiled ruefully. “Deflection.” But then a pensive look replaced her smile. “Bree was involved with someone?”
“I don’t have concrete proof. Only a suspicion. The gallery is right beneath the hotel and Cajun restaurant on the square. A couple weeks ago I forgot something and went back to the gallery – late – to retrieve it. By late, I mean around midnight. The restaurant was closed. But Sabrina was coming down the stairs as I was unlocking the gallery door. When she saw me, she
froze. She made some kind of excuse about a friend who was visiting town, but she was lying. Her face was red and she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Plus, she looked very… rumpled, if you know what I mean. I think she’d been with someone, physically.”
“But why would she be embarrassed?” Ainsley wanted to know. “Unless the whole damn town has turned Victorian in its sensibilities. Bree’s never been one to be shy about her sexuality. She’s not… like Carly was, but she’s had a few boyfriends and a normal, healthy sex life. From what she’s told me, at any rate.”
“Has she mentioned anyone lately?”
She shook her head. “No. Not for the past year or so, if not a little longer. I assumed she was in a dry spell.”
“Or maybe she’s been seeing someone that she didn’t want you to know about.”
“Who? And why? Why would she need to keep it a secret? It’s not like I judge her for the type of company she keeps. Unless this guy is an… ax murderer,” she said with dawning horror. “Shit. I did once run a background check on a guy she was seeing who set off my radar, and discovered that he had a conviction for domestic violence. Maybe she was afraid that I would do something like that again, and she wasn’t ready to hear it?”
“I don’t know,” Cal said. “It could be nothing more than a one night stand with a tourist and she was caught off guard by running into me. But it’s something that should be looked in to.”
She stared at him for several moments. “You know I’m not really your lawyer, right? Ethically speaking, that would be a huge conflict of interest.”
“In other words, I shouldn’t expect that you won’t go running to Ben due to client confidentiality. If I didn’t want Ben to know, I wouldn’t have told you in the first place. Look,” he said, reconsidering his strategy “I’m not trying to put you in the middle. I told you because I thought that someone with a stake in the case should have the information, and given the fact that you’re part of the criminal justice system, I figured you’d have some idea what to do with it. I don’t trust Paulson not to spin it to his liking. If he’s wasting time on me, actual clues to Sabrina’s whereabouts are going to go uninvestigated. I care too much about her wellbeing to want to see that happen.”
The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set Page 36
