Atonement: The Lonely Ridge Collection

by Lyz Kelley

  If he’d offered her French cuisine or the best cut of Kobe beef, she’d have turned him down flat. But pizza...thick, warm dough, covered by melted cheese...what wasn’t to like? She couldn’t remember the last time she had a slice of pizza. Phillip, the gourmet chef her father hired, would have been horrified. Even if she had asked for pizza, it was considered junk food, and would have never been permitted. Everything in her life had been measured, weighed, and organized—down to her daily calorie count.

  “Sounds nice.” The words slipped out before her brain engaged.

  “Jacob?” Ben interrupted.

  She swallowed to moisten her dry mouth. She’d lost her chance to retract the acceptance.

  Ben appeared again at the top of the stairs, waving a phone at Jacob. “It’s Larson. He’s got a problem.”

  “Of course he has a problem.” Jacob’s facial features hardened, and became unreadable. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He attempted to recover his smile. “I need to take this. How about tomorrow around six?”

  “I…ah...sure.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You’d better take your call.”

  He nodded with a puff of frustration. “Right,” he said, although he seemed somewhat reluctant to move. “Thank you for your hard work. It’s perfect,” he left her with a hearty serving of praise, something she’d rarely experienced in her life.

  However, she wasn’t sure she agreed with his appraisal.

  The masculine, metal-grey design was nothing she’d ever tried before, and now that she’d met Jacob, the cold tones of the room didn’t seem to match the playful undertones of his personality. Odd how her father wanted to be surrounded by wood and fresh flowers and beautiful pieces of art when he’d destroyed so many things—like her.

  He’d crushed her true nature, bullied and punished her until she was little more than a windup doll, and she obeyed because it was the only way to endure in a world that wasn’t of her making.

  But now she had a plan.

  She was determined to become a person even she liked being around.

  Chapter Two

  Jacob accepted the phone from Ben and walked out the double sliding glass doors to look at the mountain range spanning the horizon. He closed his eyes against the bright sun.

  “Larson, what’s up?”

  “Hey, buddy.” The slurred words meant only one thing. Larson was high.

  The time Jacob locked Larson in their dorm room and stayed with him for a week to get his strung-out buddy sober hit him in the chest like a sledgehammer.

  “Where are you?” Jacob bent his head and lowered his voice, his protectiveness kicking in.

  “Dude, I’m at the beach. The waves are so cool. They go in and out and in and out. You should come see.”

  A rush of relief almost made him dizzy. At least Larson hadn’t gotten on a plane. The last time, his buddy couldn’t remember where he’d landed. Finding him had taken eighteen excruciating hours and dealing with authorities in multiple countries.

  “What’s with you? Why are you getting stoned? You promised never again.”

  “Take it easy. I’m just having a little fun.”

  “Is anyone with you?” Jacob turned to see Ben hovering in the doorway.

  A woman giggled in the background. Jacob closed his eyes to gather patience. “Larson? Are you there?”

  “Yeah, man. I’m here.”

  “Okay. Stay put.” Jacob lowered the phone and switched to his friend finder to locate his business partner.

  Coronado Beach.

  He texted Courtney, Larson’s substance abuse counselor, a quick SOS text.

  “I’m sending help.”

  “No need. I’m good—oh, shit.”

  “Larson? Larson are you there?” Jacob shoved his fingers into his hair and gripped the strands, tugging hard, while he listened to rustling and muttering in the background.

  Then he straightened, dropped a hand, and let his thumbs dance across the keys. He re-read the text and pressed send. A couple of seconds later the texted response, “I’m on my way,” appeared.

  The pressure pinching the base of his skull released.

  “Larson, Courtney’s on her way. Do me a favor and don’t give her a hard time, okay?”

  “Love you, man.”

  Part of him wanted to return the sentiment, but the empathetic, emotional bridge between them burned down when Larson showed up to a staff meeting totally bombed. “Okay, buddy. Just let Courtney drive you home, okay?”

  The call ended with no warning.

  “Shit.” Jacob held the phone to his head, feeling the cool glass against his skin.

  “You know he’ll continue to get worse,” Ben said. “He’s got money now, and too much time on his hands.”

  “He shouldn’t have any extra time. He promised to send me a new world design last week. The capital investors want a meeting.”

  “But he didn’t send the designs, did he?”

  Jacob studied his brother, who was leaning casually against the sliding glass doorframe. “This is just a slipup. He went to see Courtney a couple of days ago. She’ll straighten him out. She did the last time.”

  Courtney, a psych major, used to live across the hall in their coed dorm. She figured out pretty quickly why Jacob had handcuffed Larson to the bed in their room, and offered to help Jacob take shifts...and was still, years later, taking shifts, trying to help Larson learn to take responsibility and stay clean.

  Ben crossed his arms, his face posting an “are you kidding me?” sign. “When will you stop covering and taking responsibility for everyone else?”

  Jacob, intent on ignoring his brother, slashed a finger across the phone’s screen to watch Courtney’s little blue dot drift toward the beach. Larson’s drug counselor, who should be described as a friend after all the therapy work she’d been doing with him over the years, would make sure he didn’t get into trouble. Larson was safe. At least for now.

  He looked at Ben and shrugged. “It’s just what I do. Besides, this is partially my fault. I should have talked Larson into setting up a trust. Then he wouldn’t have cash readily available. A large wad of money in the hands of a recovering addict is too tempting.”

  His brother produced the combo eye-roll-brow-raise, and added a phhffft, but chose not to add to the heaping pile of guilt. “Yeah, like it’s your fault he checked into the San Diego Fairmont and trashed the place.”

  “At least he picked somewhere exclusive. The manager agreed to keep the mess out of the papers as long as I paid for all the damages.”

  “He’s lucky he wasn’t arrested.”

  Ben had a point. Considering the number of drugs and prostitutes he had with him, Larson would have been facing some serious jail time. Jacob passed Ben and entered the open kitchen, stopping to study the vaulted ceilings. The large room had more cabinets than a locker room. “Did you find something for us to eat?”

  “This town is smaller than a closet. There isn’t much, but I think I can manage.” Ben zipped across the room to open the refrigerator. “How about I make your favorite? Mac and cheese.”

  Thank God for comfort food. The growing tension at the base of his neck eased. “By the way, I asked Rachelle to dinner tomorrow night. I promised her pizza.”

  Ben paused while pulling a pan from one of the cupboards. “Good thing I like you, ’cause there isn't a pizza joint in this town.” Ben moved to the sink to fill the pan with water. “Meat lovers?”

  “And maybe a margarita. I’m not sure what she likes to eat.” Jacob leaned his hip against the counter. “I asked if she would design the rest of the house. She turned me down.”

  “Really? That’s odd.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Her rejection plus Larson’s escalating drug problem added daunting complexities to his already bulging bag of responsibilities.

  “That woman has talent.” Ben found a bag of pasta shells in one of the myriad cabinets. “What did you offer her?”

  “I offered her a hu
ndred grand, plus a magazine spread giving her the credit.”

  “That’s more than fair.”

  Jacob stared at his brother. “Yet she still turned me down. Maybe I should have offered her more.”

  “No, you shouldn’t offer her more. You’d give the shirt off your back if you thought it would help someone.” Ben waved him off. “Try being selfish for once, and stop thinking about everyone else.”

  “She’s really good. You were right. She understands what I want, and delivers. That’s gotta be worth something.”

  Ben opened one of the two refrigerators, taking out package after package of cheese from the inner drawer. “Of course she did. You went over the specs a hundred times.”

  “But only after she came up with the initial design. Did you see her sketches?”

  Ben’s forehead crinkled. “They didn’t look different from any one of the thousands of storyboards you get from the game designers every day.”

  He rejected his brother’s confusion. There was a difference...subtle, yes, but it was there. Something made the room come into 3D focus. “Still. I like what she put together.”

  “I don’t know why you bought this place. It’s so”—Ben flipped his hand back and forth like he was waving away a heavy dose of cologne—“out of the way.”

  “You do know why I bought it. The tax accountant said I should invest in real estate. Calgary is too far away, and Colorado reminds me of home. The government was selling this place for a steal, and I couldn’t resist. Besides, I want a place to think.”

  “Pfft.” Ben blew out some more attitude. “If you wanted quiet, you got your wish. If you listen closely, you can hear the earth rotating.”

  “Good thing you’re not staying the whole week.” Jacob returned the attitude. “Ross will be happy to have you home. He’s only texted you a hundred times today.”

  “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a squeeze. I could get you one, you know. There are a dozen women who would die to be your date any night of the week.”

  Ben threw him a look filled with a heap of pity, but his concern was misplaced. Jacob didn’t need a woman in his life. He had Ben and Larson, and dozens of programmers who depended on him for work so they could safely go home to their families every night. “Stop worrying about me.”

  “I do worry about you. You’re not happy.”

  Maybe he wasn’t happy, but he was trying to be content, and not fight so hard to get his father’s attention.

  He’d made his point.

  The twelve million in his bank account should prove something, yet he wasn’t quite sure what. That he was a better programmer than his father? That he had a better head for business? That he knew how to make things happen?

  “I’ll be a lot happier when I come up with an idea for my new game world. I keep hoping a brilliant and unusual idea will come to me, but so far everything’s been kinda lame.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

  “I’ve got a great life. A business. Houses. Cars. An airplane I partially own. I’m good with what I have—why wouldn’t I be happy?”

  Yet Ben was right.

  Sure, he could drop a couple of grand at dinner, sit in box seats in any sports stadium, even pick up some woman and have a mindless romp with no regrets come morning, but the part he missed was someone in his life who understood his drive, his need to create. He thought Larson got it, but his buddy only cared about two things—money and drugs.

  Jacob wanted more. He wanted to build something unusual, mind-blowing. Something to entertain gamers all over the world and take their minds off whatever was troubling them, at least for a little while.

  The sound a kid makes when chasing a newly acquired puppy around the yard, caught Jacob’s attention.

  Ben was laughing at him. Jacob wasn’t surprised. His brother had been with him enough years to know when he was blowing smoke out of his butt.

  “Fine.” Ben waved a spatula in his direction. “However, when you find the right one, please promise me you won't push her away. You tend to get single-minded when you work.”

  “I don’t push people away,” he reached into the beverage refrigerator for a beer, twisting the top in one practiced move.

  He wouldn’t push Rachelle away.

  Visions of her on hands and knees, muttering about stupid wires and idiotic instructions came too easily. Jacob didn’t quite know what to do about those luscious curves and soft, sad violet eyes. She was amazing—

  “Yo, bro.”

  Jacob stared at his brother. “What?”

  Ben tutted and turned back to the stove. “I said, you may not intend to push people away, but you do. You’re a one-track-mind workaholic.”

  Jacob set his beer on the counter. “When you’re responsible for forty-seven people, let’s see if you don’t work lots of hours.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you bought this house.” Ben waved the spatula like he was conducting a symphony. “You might get more than a couple of hours’ sleep.”

  Love and concern were mapped across his sibling's face. Jacob forced a chuckle meant to ease his brother’s worry lines. At the same time, he hoped his brother was right.

  Sleep had eluded him for years. He was exhausted, and was looking forward to a few days to himself. Actually, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t mind the company of an intriguing blonde. Rachelle was closed off, and a challenge, and he’d like to find the magical key to unlock her secrets.

  Does she like living in Colorado? What’s her favorite design? Does she have a boyfriend? Does she want a family?

  Jacob took a long swig of beer. “We never finished our conversation from last night.”

  “You mean about Ross and I becoming fosters or adopting?” The spatula in Ben’s hand paused, and his expression narrowed. “Why? Are you taking Dad’s side?”

  “Hell, no. Dad and I don’t agree on anything.” He picked at his beer label. “You and Ross will make great parents. I think we should start off-loading some of your responsibilities so you have more flexibility in your schedule.”

  “You should do something about Larson first.”

  The beer in his mouth launched up his nose. He coughed, and then snorted to get the liquid down. “Larson is celebrating our win. We worked hard to get the game and all the side products to market on time.”

  “We all worked hard. Why are you still protecting him?” The irritation in Ben’s voice could have been heard in the next room.

  Was he protecting Larson too much?

  Maybe. Jacob shrugged. “Larson didn’t have it easy growing up. His dad transferred eight times in thirteen years. Every time Larson got settled, the family would pack up again. After a while, he stopped wanting to make friends.” His gut clenched.

  His college roommate had disappeared again into his inner world. The abandonment hurt. Just like when his mom died. He’d lost his buddy. Now he was losing a business partner.

  Drugs had turned his friend into a liability, and it was up to Jacob to fix the situation. He couldn’t lose his best friend. He’d already lost his mom.

  “You’re not the only one he’s disappointed,” Ben added. “He’s let his entire team down. It’s better if the truth comes out.”

  Jacob laughed to himself, finding the statement about truth and coming out in the same conversation ironic. His brother hid his sexual identity for years, and understood better than anyone the up-and-down consequences of living the truth.

  Yet Jacob heard Ben’s underlying sentiment.

  Jacob wasn’t living his truth. He was lonely, and the beautiful designer reminded him how empty his life had become.

  He shook off the look on Ben’s face. “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

  “I’ll call when the food’s ready.”

  Food. He was hungry, but not for dinner.

  A flash of Rachelle’s scrumptious hips came to mind. When she had turned around, his mind went silent. She had a face so
perfect, it reminded him of polished porcelain. Her eyes were violet, like the Colorado columbine, only brighter.

  Her look reminded him of Adira Cato, the warrior princess in his Exlander game. Strong. Fierce. Resourceful. But her strength wasn’t what attracted him to her. It was the sadness in her eyes. The hopelessness drew him in. He understood that kind of hurt, and wondered about the cause.

  He made his way out of the kitchen to let Ben weave his meal magic.

  Rachelle Clairemont made his body parts take note. For the first time in months, he was hungry for a feminine touch.

  The question was, what was he going to do about it?

  Chapter Three

  Rachelle drove her powder blue Mercedes down the narrow, curvy dirt road and stopped in front of the tiny cabin. The single-room structure barely held heat and was smaller than her bedroom at home.

  Home. She had to stop calling the house on the ridge her home. It wasn’t hers anymore.

  She should leave Elkridge.

  Find a new place and start over.

  Anywhere the demons didn’t creep out at night and torment her with her failings. Failings she was trying to fix.

  She lifted the bag of groceries a few extra inches, retrieved her purse and the dog food, and tiptoed on her three-inch heels through the mud and weeds to the steps leading to the front door. With her hands full, she turned the knob with her fingertips and kicked the door open wide with the side of her stiletto. A flash of brindle bolted past her legs and disappeared.

  “Dempsey!”

  Damn dog. The next time she saw her brother she just might strangle him. The night of her father’s arrest, Brad disappeared, leaving her a note to watch after Dempsey. Her brother was well aware she was scared of dogs. She’d gone to his vet clinic to give Dempsey back, but Brad had cleaned out his office and vanished.

  The FBI said her younger brother hadn’t been involved in the scandal, but her gut told her something quite different. She didn’t want to know. Knowing only caused more trouble, and she had enough to worry about.

  Rachelle dropped the bags on the counter, then turned to scan the tree line.