by Devney Perry
The reporter had zeroed in on the fight and security escort.
Her feature read more like an exposé, and her words had tainted Malcom’s beautiful photograph on the cover.
But at least I wasn’t alone. The reporter had ripped the other four socialites in her feature to shreds too. The five of us were a joke. A drain on society. We weren’t princesses in five royal American families. We were silly women parading around a city of intellect and culture, infecting it with our shallow existences.
A part of me wished my father were more vindictive. Or at least more protective of his baby girl. He could easily buy NY Scene and ruin that reporter’s career.
Except he wouldn’t do that. Because she hadn’t really told a lie, had she?
That reporter had sat across from me on my cream couch in this very room, smiling and sipping a cappuccino while asking me her questions and taking notes.
I’d told her how I’d gotten an interior design degree from an art institute in Manhattan, but by the time I’d graduated, I’d hated interior design. I’d told her I’d been unlucky in love, sparing her the details that were none of her or anyone else’s business. I’d told her my preference for Fendi over Gucci. When she’d asked what accomplishment I was most proud of, I’d told her it was finding Carrie, my personal chef.
I’d told her about me.
And she’d turned me into a hideous fool.
“Oh my god.” I sobbed harder into my hands.
Was I the person she’d portrayed? Was that how everyone saw me?
If it was, I couldn’t stay here in the city. I couldn’t stomach walking past people, wondering if they’d read the article.
I dried my eyes and picked up my phone then pulled up my older brother’s number. He lived in Montana with his wife, Thea, and their three kids. They didn’t sell NY Scene in Lark Cove, but there was no doubt he would have heard about the article by now.
News traveled fast across the country when the topic was my epic failures. I was sure Logan would be just as disappointed as Daddy. He’d told me on more than one occasion to grow up.
Whatever. I dialed his number anyway. I didn’t expect or need his sympathy. What I needed right now was an escape, and Montana was the first place that came to mind.
“Hi, Sofia.” He sounded annoyed. Aubrey had probably called him after sending me that text.
“Hi.” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “Look, before you lecture me, I know I screwed up. I trusted that reporter when the smart thing to do would have been to keep my mouth shut.”
“Probably.”
“I didn’t mean to disparage our family. I just . . .” Wanted to make you all proud. “I just made a mistake.”
“It happens.” His voice softened. “Dealing with the press can be tricky.”
“Yeah. It sucks.”
“What can I do?”
“I was actually wondering if your boathouse was empty for New Year’s.”
“Sure. We’d love to have you. Just let me know when you’ll be here, and I’ll pick you up from the airport.”
“Thank you.” I pushed myself up off the floor, stepping on one of the magazines as I walked out of the living room. “I’ll be there tonight.”
“Good morning,” I said on a yawn, walking into the kitchen.
“Morning.” Thea, my sister-in-law, was standing by the coffee pot. “You’re up early.”
I shrugged. “I’m used to meeting my trainer at seven, which is five Montana time.”
“Coffee?” She took another mug from a cupboard.
“Yes, please.” I slid onto a barstool at the island in their kitchen. “Thank you for letting me come out here on short notice.”
She delivered my mug, then brought over her own and sat two barstools away. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
Was I? Her tone wasn’t convincing.
Thea and I hadn’t gotten off to a good start, which was my fault entirely. She’d come to New York with Logan about five years ago, just after they’d started seeing one another. Well, they’d actually met years before in the hotel bar where Thea had been working. They’d hooked up and gone their separate ways, but not before Thea had gotten pregnant with no way of tracking Logan down.
Lucky for them, fate had intervened and delivered Logan here to Lark Cove and back into Thea’s life. And he’d met five-year-old Charlie—his daughter.
But fate wasn’t something I believed in, so when he’d brought her home to meet our family, I’d been skeptical, to say the least. Actually, I’d been a total bitch, certain that Thea’s story was full of holes and that all she really wanted was to steal our family’s fortune.
I’d thrown one of Logan’s ex-girlfriends in Thea’s face. I’d treated her like trash and dismissed Charlie completely. I’d judged her solely on her occupation as a bartender.
Ugh, I’m the worst.
I’d been trying ever since to get into Thea’s good graces. But since I only saw them two or three times a year, my progress had been slow. Especially because Thea and I had nothing in common except our last name.
Most would call us both beautiful. Thea certainly was with her long dark hair, sparkling eyes and blinding smile. But she had an inner beauty that catapulted her to a different level. She worked hard, running her own business. She was an artist, creating sculptures and paintings that spoke to the soul. She didn’t care about material things or social status. Her goal in life was to raise happy children.
She probably agreed with everything that reporter had written.
Silence loomed in the kitchen as we drank our coffee. “It’s, um, quiet this morning.”
“The kids were up late last night. I’m sure they’ll sleep in.”
“Sorry.” They’d stayed up late because my flight hadn’t gotten in until nine. With the thirty-minute drive from the airport to Lark Cove added on top, they hadn’t gotten tucked into bed until almost ten.
“Don’t worry about it. A late night isn’t going to hurt them.”
“I can’t believe it’s already been six months since you guys came to the city. The kids sure have grown since this summer.”
Charlie, Collin and Camila were eleven, four and two, respectively. While Charlie was still the same tomboy she’d always been, Collin and Camila were developing their own personalities. Collin was a bundle of energy, never stopping as he explored the world. And Camila wasn’t the baby she’d been last summer. Now she was talking and doing her best to keep pace with her older siblings.
Maybe she’d have better luck than I had.
Did they think their aunt was a complete failure too?
With talk about the kids out of the way, there wasn’t much else to discuss at five in the morning. So we sat there, listening to the refrigerator hum. Halfway into my coffee, I wished I’d stayed in bed. There was an elephant in the room, and it was named NY Scene.
“You think it’s true.”
“Huh?” Thea asked.
“The magazine. You think what she wrote was true.”
“The truth?” She sighed. “Yes and no. Yes, I think they captured the facts. No, I don’t think you’re all of the things she called you.”
“Thank you.” My chin quivered. That was maybe the nicest thing she’d ever said to me. “I, um . . . I feel kind of lost. I don’t want to be that person.” Useless. Spoiled. Petty.
Thea was quiet for a few moments then reached across the granite counter and covered my wrist with her hand. “I have an idea.”
“What’s that?” I looked up, my hopes skyrocketing that she’d help me out.
“You’re going to have to trust me.”
“I do.” I nodded. “I trust you.”
“Good.” Thea smiled and went back to her coffee. I waited for her to tell me her idea, but she didn’t say a word. She just kept sipping from her mug for a few minutes and then got up and went to the fridge for eggs.
“Uh, are you going to tell me your idea?”
She grin
ned over her shoulder then cracked the first egg on the edge of a bowl. “Just trust me.”
I frowned at the dingy building outside the car window. A few hours after breakfast, Thea had loaded us all up in their SUV and ordered Logan to drive to the Lark Cove Bar.
“Are we getting lunch here or something?”
“No, I’ve got to get a few things organized before we can go.”
“Where are we going?” Logan asked.
“Paris. We’re leaving this afternoon.”
“What? Paris?” I looked between them both in the front seat of their SUV. “Why didn’t you say anything at breakfast? Or when I called you yesterday?”
“Um, because I didn’t know,” Logan told me then turned to his wife. “We’re going to Paris?”
She nodded. “Isn’t that what you gave me for my Christmas present?”
“Well, yeah. But we can go whenever you want.”
“And I’ve decided I want to go for New Year’s Eve. You can kiss me underneath the Eiffel Tower.”
“Gross, Mom.” Charlie groaned in her seat next to me. Collin and Camila just giggled from their car seats.
“I’ve already arranged for the kids to stay with Hazel and Xavier,” Thea told Logan, earning a cheer from the kids that they’d be staying with their gran. “The jet is already here since Sofia flew over last night. We just have to pack and go.”
“But what about the bar?” he asked. “Your New Year’s Eve party is in two days. You really want to miss it?”
She shrugged. “They can party without us this year.”
“But—”
“I rarely do anything spontaneous, gorgeous. I’m stepping way outside my comfort zone here. Just go with it.”
His entire frame relaxed, and he reached across the car to take her hand. “Paris is what you want?”
“Paris is what I want.” She nodded. “Ten days. Just the two of us.”
“Okay. Then we’ll go to Paris.” He leaned across the car and planted a firm kiss on her lips, getting more groans and giggles from the kids.
“Is this your idea?” I asked. “For me to house-sit while you’re gone?”
Thea gave Logan a grin that could only be described as diabolical. “Sort of.”
“Wait. What do you mean—”
Before I finished my question, she opened the door and started unbuckling the kids.
I rushed to get out of the middle seat and follow, hurrying to catch up as she crossed the snow-covered parking lot. “Thea, what do you mean sort of?”
“Trust me.”
“I’m starting to fear those two words.”
She laughed and kept walking, Camila perched on her hip while Charlie and Collin raced around in the snow, kicking and throwing it at one another.
“Inside, guys!” Logan hollered, getting to the door first and holding it open for us.
Stepping inside and out of the cold, I took a few seconds to let my eyes adjust to the dark interior of the bar. Even with the blinds on the front windows open and the winter sun streaming inside, the bar was dim.
The kids rushed past me, bringing clumps of snow with them.
This was only the third time I’d been to Thea’s bar and restaurant. All of my previous trips to Montana had been for family gatherings, so my time in Lark Cove had been confined to Logan and Thea’s house on Flathead Lake. I didn’t know this bar well, but it didn’t take much of an inspection to know that it hadn’t changed a bit since I’d been here last.
The ceilings were high with iron beams running the length of the open room. The bar ran in an L along the back walls. Behind it were mirrored shelves crowded with liquor bottles. The wooden plank floors matched the wooden plank walls, except while the dark floors were battered and covered in peanut shells, the dark walls were battered and covered in framed photos and the occasional neon sign.
Nothing else matched. Not the chairs or the stools or the tables. It was a mishmash of collectibles and went against every single one of the design principles I’d learned in college.
A strange twinge ran up my neck. It was the same feeling I’d had the other three times I’d been here, the same prickle I’d gotten when I’d ridden the subway once in high school for “fun.” I was convinced that the next black plague would originate from those tunnels.
Maybe that twinge was my body’s way of warning me of danger. Like it knew my immune system wouldn’t be able to ward off the germs in places like this.
Not that the bar was dirty or grimy. It was actually quite clean and dust-free. The bar was just . . . old. And battered. Some might call it rustic. But the only kind of rustic I enjoyed was the brand-new kind you found in Aspen estates.
I’d give Thea one thing: her bar was unique. The jukebox in the corner was ancient, filled with old country music I’d never heard of. There was a set of antlers hanging on one wall with a bra draped from the horns.
As the kids chased each other around a cocktail table in the middle of the room, Logan and Thea took turns grabbing them one by one to help them out of their winter coats.
The twinge in my neck was gone. The clean and refreshing smell in the room had chased it away. I guess this place wasn’t like the subway—not even a little.
Bleach lingered in the air, hinting that someone had scrubbed the bar top not too long ago. They must not have gotten to the floors yet.
Beneath the cleaner, the air was infused with citrus. I spotted a cutting board and a knife on the bar next to the slotted tray of bar fruits. It was overflowing with lemon, lime and orange wedges.
“Hey.” A smooth, deep voice echoed in the empty room as a man emerged from the hallway behind the bar. His long, tanned fingers were wrapped around a white dish towel as he dried his hands. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We’re going on a vacation.” Thea smiled and walked behind the bar. “So I need to grab a couple of things before we leave.”
“Vacation? Like, today? That wasn’t on the calendar.”
She laughed. “I know. I’m being spontaneous.”
“Something you are not.” The man chuckled and a shiver rolled down my spine.
This bar might not have changed since I’d been here last, but this man was definitely new. And definitely sexy.
His onyx hair was short on the sides and longer on top with wide swoops through the silky strands like he’d combed it out with his fingers. His face had this beautiful, odd symmetry that I felt the urge to sketch. His eyes were narrow and set in a harsh line above the wide bridge of his nose. His jaw was made entirely of hard, unforgiving angles. His cheekbones were so sharp they could cut glass. The only thing soft about this man’s face were his full lips.
Apart, the features were all too strong and too bold, but mixed together, he was magnificent.
“Have you met Dakota before?” Logan caught my attention and nodded to the man I’d been blatantly studying.
“Pardon?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” he muttered. “Dakota Magee, this is my sister Sofia Kendrick.”
Dakota jerked up his chin.
“Hi.” I swallowed hard, finding it difficult to breathe when he was looking my way.
Those black eyes scrutinized me from head to toe, giving nothing away about what he found. He didn’t blink. He didn’t move.
I’d had my first boyfriend at thirteen and plenty of others since. I’d been married—and divorced—twice. I’d been on the receiving end of more pick-up lines and catcalls than a stripper headlining a Vegas show.
I knew when a man found me attractive. I knew when I stirred a man’s blood.
But Dakota’s stare gave nothing away. It was empty and cool. He looked right to my core, making my heart boom louder and louder with every passing second that I failed his inspection.
“So since I’m leaving on this last-minute vacation, I had an idea.” Thea’s voice came to my rescue, forcing Dakota to break his stare. “Sofia can help you out while I’m gone.”
“I don’t n
eed help.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Dakota and Logan both spoke at the same time my stomach dropped. She wanted me to help? Here?
“With New Year’s Eve, it’ll be busy,” Thea said.
“Then I’ll call Jackson if I can’t keep up,” Dakota shot back.
Thea shook her head. “He and Willa made plans to go to Kalispell for New Year’s.”
“Fine.” His jaw clenched, the angles getting angry. “Then I’ll handle it. Alone.”
“Listen. I feel awful leaving you here alone on one of the biggest days of the year when I’d planned to help out. But this will be perfect. You can teach Sofia the ropes for a couple of days, and then she can help during the party. It’s a win-win.”
He grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. But he didn’t argue with his boss.
“Thank you.” Thea smiled, knowing she’d won. “Thank you both for doing this. It’ll be great.”
How could she think me working in her bar would ever be great? I had no experience, let alone desire, to mix other people’s drinks.
Dakota’s stern expression turned arctic as he leveled his gaze on me again. It was no secret he didn’t want me here as much as I didn’t wish to stay.
I inched backward, hoping to make an escape while I had the chance, but my foot caught on the edge of a chair. My feet slipped in the puddle of melted snow that had collected underneath my boots. My arms flailed as I tried to keep my footing, but when one heel went skidding sideways, I was doomed.
A cluster of peanut shells broke my fall as my ass collided with the floor.
“Ouch.” My face burned with embarrassment as Logan rushed to my side.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I nodded, letting him take my elbow to help me back up. When my feet were steady, I rubbed the spot on my butt that was sure to bruise.
“Those peanut shells can be slippery,” Thea told me. “My first two weeks here, I slipped constantly. But you’ll get used to walking on them. And I guess you might as well start work by sweeping them all up.”
