“We’re going to the tree house, right?” Willow guessed.
He pulled them to a stop and hooked his arm around her waist before checking the blindfold. “Are you peeking?”
“No! Just tell me something!”
“Okay. Productive pursuits are on hold for the rest of the day. No studying, organizing, or even thinking too hard.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he put a finger against her lips. “This is about letting go. You know, spontaneity … Ever heard of it?”
“No, but I’ve heard of irresponsibility. I’m going to break an ankle walking out here!” A single dark brow arched above the fabric of the blindfold. “The least you could do is carry me.”
He grinned as he scooped her up against his chest. “As you wish.”
Willow looped her arms around his neck and leaned in, her soft breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “I love you too.” Then her lips moved to his neck and fluttered a trail of kisses to his collarbone.
Ashton shivered hard. “Keep that up, Buttercup, and we may not make it to your surprise.”
Her deep, throaty laugh vibrated against him, and he lengthened his stride. “Maybe we just need to get there faster.”
When they reached the rope bridge, he lowered Willow to her feet and looped his arm around her waist.
As they made their way across, she said, “Did you see the news? Deputy Simms is the new police chief.”
“Simms is okay. I’m just glad I never have to see Kagawa again.”
“Do you think he’ll go to jail?”
“Not sure I care.” But with charges of perjury and obstruction, his days of law enforcement were over.
Ashton guided Willow over a missing board, and then she said, “Brayden told me that he and Isaiah recanted their statements that they saw you push Daniel. And they both received immunity in exchange for promising to testify against Colin. Every time I think about what they did to you and that they got away with it, I … I want to hit something!”
Ashton exhaled a low breath. He was still working through his own anger. They stepped off the bridge onto solid ground, and Ashton pulled Willow into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and whispered, “I feel the same, but I don’t want to talk about them right now. This night is just for us. Okay?”
Willow nodded against his chest.
“Good.” Ashton released her and instructed, “Wait here.”
“Yes, sir!” Willow gave him a quick salute.
The sun sank behind the horizon, painting the sky in fiery streaks as Ashton started the generator hidden behind the base of the tree. He jogged back to Willow and took her shoulders, directing her gaze. “Ready?”
She gave an adorable jiggle of impatience. “Yes!”
He tugged off her blindfold.
“Oh!”
Ashton watched her face. The lights he’d strung up on the tree house sparkled in her eyes like fireflies, and her mouth dropped open in awe. “What’s all this for?”
“I’m not very good at saying how I feel, so I thought I’d show you.” She turned to him and searched his face. Feeling his neck warm, he grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. “There’s more. Come on.”
Inside, he’d arranged pillows in the corners, rolled out a plush rug, and set a dozen battery-powered candles of different heights in the center. A wicker basket stood open, displaying a narrow loaf of fresh bread and a glass carafe of chilled apple cider.
“It’s a picnic!” Willow stood in the doorway and then spun on him with an impish grin. “Did you make the food yourself?”
“Um, no. Your mom helped with that.” His culinary skills extended to PB&J with the occasional boxed mac and cheese, if he felt ambitious.
Willow walked inside, kicked off her shoes, and sank her toes into the soft shag of the carpet. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”
“Keller House is like a treasure trove of unused finery.” Ashton knelt in front of the basket and then glanced up at Willow, who paced around the carpet like a caged cat. She was so not good with surprises, but Ashton figured if she experienced enough good ones she’d learn to enjoy them. “Have a seat, Wil. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”
“Okay, fine.” She dropped down and crossed her legs, then tugged a pillow onto her lap. Leaning over to peer into the basket, she squeaked, “Is that chocolate-pumpkin torte from Gales?”
Ashton just smiled.
Willow reached in and grabbed a plastic container, rich dark chocolate swirled with orange smashed against the sides. “How did you know this is my favorite?”
Ashton paused in unpacking the basket and leveled his gaze on hers. “Because I know you, Willow Elizabeth Lamott.”
She ducked her head, the sheet of her dark hair falling across her face, but Ashton could tell she was smiling.
After pouring glasses of cider and distributing the sandwiches and fruit, Ashton leaned against the wall and stretched out his legs. Even sitting diagonally, his feet almost reached the opposite wall. The place had not been built for full-grown teenagers. A memory of Mr. Lamott laying each board and patiently instructing Ashton on the proper use of tools tugged at his heart. He would do everything he could to preserve this little retreat.
“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it tonight, but something’s been bothering me. I never figured out how you knew that note Colin had Yolanda forge wasn’t from me,” Willow asked, breaking into his sappy thoughts. This was how it had been over the last weeks—so much had happened that night that as each of them processed through it, details would emerge, sparking questions at random moments. And although Ashton wanted to focus on each other, he knew Willow, and she wouldn’t stop turning it over in her mind until she had all the answers. He bent one of his legs and hooked his arm around it. “At the ball, when Yolanda handed me the note, I knew it wasn’t from you as soon as I read it.”
Wil stared at him. “How?”
“You would never forget to dot your i’s, no matter how much you were rushing. That combined with what I’d learned from Isaiah set off my internal alarms.”
Willow gazed down at her plate, running her finger along the fluted edge.
“What?”
She lifted one shoulder and raised her head. “I just feel stupid. I didn’t recognize that Colin had faked the note from you.”
He reached over and took her hand. “How about I hand-write sonnets to your beauty until you know every loop of my hideous cursive?”
Her lips quirked to one side. “Really? The boy who doesn’t know how to express his feelings is going to write love poems? Doubtful.”
“Song lyrics?” He lifted his brows.
She bit back a smile and shook her head.
“Limericks?”
“Now that, I’d believe.”
Ashton let go of her hand and sat back. “There once was a girl named Willow …”
“Oh no, please don’t.” She shook her head emphatically.
“Her dark hair, how it did billow.”
He popped a blackberry into his mouth, buying a second to think. “With the mighty strength of an oak, she is one you do not want to provoke.” He drank in the sight of her eyes as they danced with amusement, and then finished his rhyme, “But if you can get close, her skin is as soft as a pillow, her kiss like …”
“Don’t say it!”
Evidently she knew the limited words that rhymed with her name. “… an armadillo.”
“Ugh!” Willow lobbed a pillow at his head.
He snatched it out of the air. “What? Armadillos are cute.”
“That wasn’t even a proper limerick! Please, no more love poetry, I beg you.”
After their laughter died down, Willow resumed eating her sandwich and asked, “How did the visit with your family go?”
“Awkward.” He tore off a chunk of bread and squeezed it between his fingers. “My mom can barely look me in the eye now that she knows I wasn’t guilty, and my dad still acts like I’m the prodigal son returned
to complete his life and join the family business.”
“How do you feel about that?” Willow selected an olive from the antipasto tray. “About them?”
Ashton leaned back on his hands. “College first, and then we’ll see about the business, but … I’ve forgiven my parents.”
Willow’s brows shot up.
“I didn’t deserve your mercy or forgiveness after the way I treated you.” He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “But you showed me all the good that can come from second chances. Anger has torn me apart for too long … I’m ready to let it go.”
Willow reached over and linked their fingers. “I guess … Colin deserves the same.”
Heat flooded Ashton’s chest as it did every time he thought about all the evil things Colin Martin had done—the years he’d stolen from Ashton and all the good people he’d hurt. He inhaled and turned his gaze to the stars twinkling outside the window. Forgiveness didn’t excuse Colin from facing the consequences for his actions. Being tried as an adult meant he’d be living with those consequences for a very long time.
With a slow exhale, he turned back to Willow and offered a crooked smile. “I’m working on it.”
Her dark eyes twinkled. “Good.” She popped another olive into her mouth. “Now tell me about all the guilt gifts your parents bought you.”
“Lots of clothes and electronics, and … a car.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, a Nissan GT-R. It’s being delivered next week. They let me pick out the color.” The car wasn’t going to fix anything, but Ashton knew it was their way of trying to make up for their mistakes.
Willow took a sip of cider and then watched him over the rim of the glass. “GT-Rs are crazy fast. I didn’t think anything could be more dangerous than a motorcycle, but you’re going to kill yourself in that thing.”
Ashton ignored her. “I chose black with black leather interior.”
“Of course you did.” Willow grinned and shook her head.
“But this is still my favorite.” He held up his wrist, where he wore the watch she’d given him. A gift to make up for all the birthdays she’d missed.
“It’s just a watch.” She shrugged, her cheeks flaming a gorgeous pink.
The watch itself was nice, but the inscription she’d had engraved on the back had rocked him.
I loved you at your darkest. Always, Wil
All those years when he’d felt alone, she’d loved him. The double meaning had not been lost on him, and every time he thought about it, he had to touch her. Ashton set down his half-eaten sandwich and crawled across the blanket. Willow lowered her glass to the hardwood and patted the carpet beside her with a slow smile.
Ashton gathered her into his arms and gazed into those exquisite dark eyes that still held countless mysteries he needed to discover. He tucked a wave of silken hair behind her ear as her hands ran up and down his back, igniting tiny sparks across his skin and filling him with the best kind of heat. His eyes drifted to her lips and then back to her eyes. “I’ve spent years burying my emotions, but when I touch you … it’s like they all come rushing back at once.”
She lifted a hand to his face, and even without words he knew she understood him. Ashton’s heart was so full he thought it might explode. He felt superhuman, like he could scale a mountain with his bare hands or cure world hunger in a single day. Melodies swirled inside his head and wrapped around his soul. Songs had been written about this feeling since the beginning of human history, and he could see why.
He brushed his thumb across the gentle slope of her chin. “Wil, I told you once that I won’t make promises to you that I can’t keep, so for now all I want is to see you tomorrow.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “And the day after that.” He kissed the rounded curve of her cheek. “And the day after that.”
And all the days after that, but he kept that part to himself as he kissed her lips.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a mystery/suspense story is much more complicated than the Nancy Drew books made it seem. Combine that unique challenge with writing two novels simultaneously (Forever Doon and Gilt Hollow), and some pretty intense illness in my family, and you have the perfect recipe for insanity, but THANKFULLY I have many extraordinary people in my life who wouldn’t let me slip over the edge!
It’s a challenge to contain my gratitude within the boundaries of a few lines of print, but know that these words merely scratch the surface of my appreciation.
Gilt Hollow wouldn’t have been possible without the remarkable publishing team at Blink. My heartfelt thanks to each one of you for your creativity, hard work, and vision!
To my ROCK STAR agent, Nicole Resciniti, for believing in this story even before I did … You were right, as usual. Thank you!
Thanks to my husband, Tom, for asking on our first date if he could see me the next day, and the day after, and the day after that … and inspiring the end of this novel. I LOVE all our amazing days together!!!
To my parents, who struggled at times to raise this idealistic dreamer. Thank you for giving me a solid foundation to stand on as I reached for the stars. I love you both!
Thanks to my second family, the Moeggenbergs, for accepting this odd, creative girl as one of your own. (This includes all the Fowlers and the Freemans.) I’m GRATEFUL beyond words for each one of you!
To Carey Corp, my writing partner, co-conspirator, and friend. Our lives have become so intertwined that branching out on my own with this novel has been equal parts exciting and terrifying. But wherever this crazy life takes us, we will always be linked by our Calling.
A shout out to our Doonians all over the world! Words can’t express my gratitude for your enthusiasm and support. THANK YOU for following me on this detour outside of our mythical kingdom!
To Melissa Landers, my critique partner, traveling companion, and sounding board; your friendship is a brilliant LIGHT in my life!
To Laurie Pezzot for falling in love with Ashton and Willow as I brainstormed this book between bites of chips and salsa. Thank you for continually reminding me that this story was worth telling.
Many thanks to my oldest friends Jennifer Gifford Egbert and Lisa Litz for inspiring the character of Lisa Gifford—every girl needs good friends who will force her out of her comfort zone when necessary!
Thanks to my brother-in-law, Jon Moeggenberg, for patiently answering my rambling, hypothetical law enforcement questions. If you read this book, hopefully they make sense now!
To the thriller queen, Natalie Richards, for beta reading and giving me a quote that still blows me away!
Thanks to my dear friends who see the same truth: Tricia Lacey, Angie Knopp, Brenda Hess, Jen Osborn, Sara (Ella) Larson, Mindee Arnett, and Kelly Innes Shults. Your faith and courage INSPIRES me to continue on the right path.
To all my other family and friends whom I haven’t mentioned by name, I appreciate each and every one of you!
My writing career, and all that entails, is due to the MAGNIFICENT God who saw something in me that I did not, and called me to a bigger destiny than I could have imagined. I’m grateful every day that he drew me out of the boat and onto the turbulent waters of this amazing journey!
Connect with Lorie Langdon!
www.lorielangdon.com
@lorielangdon_author
AuthorLorieLangdon
@LorieLangdon
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www.goodreads.com/author/show/6591473.Lorie_Langdon
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