by Robin Caroll
“That sounds so ominous, doesn’t it?” Emily grinned, then perched on the arm of the couch. “It’s fine. The doctor says there will barely be a sign after it finishes healing.”
Maddie sat up straight on the couch. “What happened to your face?”
Emily cocked her head. “I had an accident and got cut with glass.”
“Come on, it’s just us girls here. No Hayden, no Ardy. What really happened?” Riley took advantage of her sister’s opening the door.
“Seriously, it was an . . .” Emily’s face fell. “Honestly, it was an accident, but not exactly the way I told Hayden.”
“What happened?” Remington’s tone was as soft and silky as the blue blouse.
Emily stared at the floor. “I don’t want Hayden to know. Or Mom.”
“What?” Riley couldn’t contain her curiosity, but she wouldn’t promise not to say anything either. That rule was basic journalism 101.
“I was using the glass bottoms of old Coke bottles, that much is true. I was goofing around . . . making fun of Thomas. He usually is so calm. But that night, I don’t know.” Emily shrugged. “He’d had a bad day at work, so he said. I was trying to cheer him up. Yeah, and maybe I was teasing a little on the mean side.”
Riley could understand Emily’s teasing being considered a bit mean. Been there, experienced that.
“So he got mad?” Remington prompted.
Emily nodded. “It was like he snapped or something. One minute I’m laughing and holding the glass bottoms up to my eyes like his glasses, and the next thing I know, he slapped me, hitting the glass when he did.”
“Oh, Emily.” Maddie moved closer to the arm of the couch and patted Emily’s knee. “That’s awful.”
Riley blinked several times. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I’m not saying you’re lying, but, wow.”
“It’s so shocking.” Remington leaned forward from her perch on the love seat and patted Emily’s other knee. “Especially because Thomas comes across as . . . uh . . . well . . . um—”
“Effeminate?” Riley finished, then chewed her bottom lip. “Sorry, Em, but that’s just the way he comes across, all prim and proper.”
“I know. He does. And I’d just learned recently that he has a prosthesis on his lower left leg. Cancer as a teenager. So maybe that’s why he took my teasing so hard. Because I was using a British accent and talking in what I call his stuffy tone, demanding my afternoon cup of hot tea.” She cleared her throat. “He didn’t mean to hurt me. He apologized profusely, wanted to take me to the emergency room himself.”
“But why?” Riley asked. “Why didn’t you let him? Then you wouldn’t have had to mislead Hayden, your mom, everyone.”
“Because you were embarrassed?”
Emily lifted her head, then nodded at Remington. “How’d you know?”
“I do have that psychology degree, you know.” Remington sat back on the love seat. “But surely you know that just because he seemed to feel bad afterward, apologized, and swore never to do anything like that again, chances are likely that he will, right?”
“It’s not like that.” Emily lifted her hand to ward off the arguments everyone started to voice. “I mean, I know that. Give me some credit. I’ve even started seeing other people. From the very limited options here in Hopewell.”
“That’s a start,” Remington said.
“Yes.” Emily sniffed and shifted to face Riley. “Now, the big question.”
Riley stiffened. Was Emily going to ask her to keep the secret from Hayden? She wouldn’t volunteer the information, but if he asked, she couldn’t and wouldn’t lie to him. “What’s that?”
“Since you can’t raise one of your arms, who’s going to fix your hair for tonight’s hot date?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Arise, LORD, in your anger; rise up against the rage of my enemies. Awake, my God; decree justice.”
PSALM 7:6
She stole his breath.
Hayden stood in the foyer of his childhood home and felt the earth move under the wood floors he’d helped his father lay.
Riley Baxter held his ability to speak hostage by her sheer beauty and grace. Hayden had never seen a woman so beautiful. The overhead light shimmered on her hair, picking up highlights of gold. Her eyes, so incredibly blue, looked even deeper with that liquid-looking shirt. But it was her smile that held him completely spellbound.
“Son, have you lost all the manners I taught you?” His mother chuckled, nudging him into the house so she could shut the front door.
“You look . . . beamazing.”
“Beamazing? I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.” Emily grinned from the couch.
“It’s a mix of beautiful and amazing, and shut up, Em.”
Riley smiled wider, causing his stomach to feel as if it’d been caught in a vise. “Ignore all of them. They’ve had their fun at my expense all afternoon.”
“Yeah, but we’re bored picking on you. It’s Hay’s turn.” Emily laughed.
“Emily, stop annoying your brother. Even though it has been a while since you’ve been on a date, son.”
Gee, thanks, Mom. “Okay, that’s it.” He held out his arm to Riley. “Are you ready to escape these lunatics?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Where are y’all going?” Remington interjected.
At least Rafe wasn’t here to interrogate him as well. He’d made sure Rafe had some reports to inspect at the station before he saw Maddie and Remington off in the morning. “Out to eat.”
“Yeah, but where?” Emily probed.
“It’s a surprise and none of your business.” What was this, the Spanish Inquisition? He smiled down at Riley. “Are you ready? I don’t want us to be late.”
She nodded at him, then stuck her tongue out at Emily. He had to admire that flash of spunk.
Once he’d gotten her settled in the passenger seat and slipped behind the steering wheel, he adjusted the thermostat. A chilly evening but not cold. The weather needed to hold. “I have a confession.”
She lifted a single eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“We don’t have reservations.”
“Oh. We don’t?” Her face told it all—that his sister and Remington had scared her with some outlandish tales.
Now he wondered if he’d made the right decision. Should he have taken her to some fancy-schmancy restaurant in Baton Rouge and impressed her? Second-guesses tied his gut into knots. “I had something a little more private in mind, unless you’d rather go to a restaurant.”
“Whatever you want is fine with me. I trust you.”
His heart pounded against his ribs. And honestly, he trusted her. Which was truly saying something. He smiled and drove toward the Hopewell Visitor Center located out off the river.
Once a bed and breakfast, the center’s main building had been sold and businesses it held changed many times: restaurant, day spa, gift shop, and now a visitor’s center. It’d been renovated two years ago, downplaying the building itself and changing to make it more a part of the beautiful landscape. Man-made waterfalls, lush greenery, and wooden pathways wound around the building as unobtrusively as possible.
Normally, the center’s grounds were closed and the gates locked in the evenings, but the manager had appreciated Hayden’s willingness to scare his rebelling teenage son on the dangers of illegal drag racing, so he’d agreed to allow Hayden in after hours.
Hayden had spent the last hour making sure everything was set up just right. He remembered his mother’s stories of romantic gestures, so he did his best. He’d taken Japanese lanterns and placed them all around the base of the largest waterfall, where he’d laid out an old quilt.
On the way to pick Riley up, he’d stopped and loaded the picnic basket he’d ordered
filled with items from the local deli. Fried chicken, potato salad, batter buns, and strawberry shortcake. All could be eaten cold. All delicious.
“Has Emily been a pain anymore?”
“No. Not at all. She actually loaned me this blouse.”
“It’s nice.” Nice? What kind of lame small talk was that?
He kept his mouth shut and pulled into the center’s parking lot. She raised her brows as he killed the engine but asked no questions. He had to give her points for that. He rushed around to her side of the car and opened the door for her, grabbed the picnic basket from the trunk, then led her down the private path to the area he’d set up. Nerves bunched in his every muscle.
Her eyes widened as she took in the view before her. “How? Oh my, it’s beautiful.”
Relief flooded him as he led her to the quilt and helped her sit. “I know how rich Mom’s cooking is. I thought perhaps you’d welcome something a little less spicy.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, but this is perfect.” She smiled as her gaze darted about the area. “It’s just breathtaking. How did you manage all this?”
He chuckled as he handed her a bottled water. “Believe it or not, men actually can make arrangements.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She smiled and took a sip. “This is lovely. Thank you.”
He opened the basket and set out the food. After a quick blessing, they ate, interjecting bits and pieces of their day. He could sit on the quilt and listen to Riley talk all day long and never get tired of it. Which brought up a whole other subject he needed to tackle . . .
“Riley, I think we both can feel this . . . this . . . whatever between us.” His heart felt like it would explode.
She blushed. “I know what you’re talking about.”
“I just want you to know, I’m serious.” He cleared his throat against the lump. “About you. About us. About seeing where this goes.”
She let out a long, slow breath. “I feel the same way. But, Hayden, I live in Tennessee. You live in Louisiana. It’s impossible.”
The main concern he’d had himself over the past couple of days. “And Rafe and Remington figured the same thing too.” He leaned forward, tucking that ever-present loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I just want us to give it a chance. We’ll figure out the details later.”
Her cell phone chimed.
“Sorry.” She glanced at the screen, then pressed a button and slipped the phone into her purse. “Text message from my editor.”
The moment had passed. Hayden would let it go. For now.
He packed up the leftovers, Riley watching and smiling. “That was wonderful. Just perfect. Thank you.” She stretched her legs out in front of her. “I haven’t felt this relaxed in days.”
“I’m glad. You probably needed it more than you realize.”
“Yeah. Especially since I need to hit the ground running on my next article. I’ll start calling people tomorrow.”
He scooted next to Riley and stretched his legs out as well. He took her right hand. “I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get angry with me.”
Caution flashed in her eyes like hazard lights. “What?”
“I did a little digging on Armand Wilson today. I wanted to help you with the series.”
“Why would I be mad about that?” She squeezed his hand. “I’ve asked you to help, so I invited you into my work. I’m not upset about that.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have had that second piece of strawberry shortcake. “The thing is, when I searched his name, I recalled the case.”
She wrinkled her brow. “You didn’t handle the case. I’ve read the file and your name isn’t there. It happened in Baton Rouge.”
He nodded. “The reason I recall the case is that one of the victims is a friend of mine. Lewis Pine. He owned a sword—excuse me, a sabre—owned by General Beauregard. It was a family heirloom and had been in his family since the Civil War.”
She blinked, but her lips were pressed together tightly.
“They never recovered his sabre, or some artifacts of a friend of his. He’ll never be able to get back something that meant so much to his family.”
“But that doesn’t mean Armand was involved.”
“Actually . . . let me explain. The other friend of Lewis’s who lost his artifact? His name is Darryl and his brother, Cam, was the pawnshop owner.”
“That still doesn’t mean it was Armand.”
“According to both Lewis and Darryl, Cam was 100 percent positive the guy who came in and tried to pawn Judith Osborn’s revolver was Armand.”
“How would he know? He saw him for maybe, what?—ten minutes?”
“He knew Armand, Riley. Cam Thayer had been at the big event at the museum that weekend. He’d bid and bought two antique chairs in the fund-raiser. He recognized Armand from his security detail.”
She shook her head. “It’s a mistake. I’ll talk to this guy. He’s wrong.”
“Riley . . .”
She shoved to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ll prove them wrong.” She popped her right fist on her hip and jutted out her chin. “I’ll prove you wrong.”
This changed nothing.
She couldn’t believe Hayden had ruined a romantically perfect evening like this. Riley stomped toward the car, ignoring him as he followed.
Beautiful weather. Gorgeous setting. Apparent that he went to quite a bit of trouble to make the evening special. Great food. And then . . . then he had to go and destroy everything by all but coming out and stating Armand Wilson was guilty.
She couldn’t accept that. Wouldn’t.
Reaching the car, she didn’t say a word, just waited for him to unlock and open the door for her.
He knew how much she believed in Armand’s innocence. If he really wanted to help, why hadn’t he gone and talked with this Cam Thayer himself? Really dug for the truth? That’s why Armand was in prison in the first place: Someone was too lazy to go out and actually do some poking around.
The trunk slammed, then Hayden got into the car. He started it, cracked the windows, but didn’t put it in gear.
Riley still wouldn’t speak, although she felt his stare burning into her. This was important to her—he was important to her—now everything was all messed up. Confusing.
“Look, I know you’re mad and I’m sorry, but I won’t apologize for sharing the information with you. I know these guys. They wouldn’t be party to putting an innocent man in prison.” He let out a heavy sigh. “This isn’t easy for me. Considering my profession, I usually don’t give out information.”
She didn’t want to hear his generosity was because of her. Riley chewed her bottom lip, not daring to look at him. She needed to say something. Anything. But she didn’t trust herself not to lash out. She needed Armand to be innocent. Believed it to the core of her being. But had her need for a front-page story blinded her to the truth? Was Hayden right? Could Armand actually be guilty? Could he have been involved?
Her thoughts spun as she felt his gaze on her, never wavering, reflecting the strength of the man she’d give her heart to. Who was she kidding? He already held it.
After what seemed like an eternity, he put the car in reverse and backed out of the center’s parking lot.
The drive back to Ardy’s was downright cold, and Riley knew it had nothing to do with the fresh air seeping through the cracked windows. Maybe she’d judged too quickly and too harshly.
When it came to Hayden Simpson, she just didn’t know anymore. Everything about him confused her. Excited her. Scared her to feel such intense emotions.
He pulled into the driveway and rushed to open her door. She remained frozen in her seat. It would be rude not to let him, and she’d already been rude enough.
/> Hayden seemed a bit shocked that she’d waited on him. He held out his hand to help her from the car.
Just his touch sent her reeling. The man had a killer effect on her.
He shut the car door, then put his arms on either side of her. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat from his arms on hers.
Her back pressed against the cruiser. He leaned in, almost resting his forehead against hers. She could feel his breath on her skin. “There’s a real fine line between wanting to help and wanting to be right, and today, I tripped over that line. Will you forgive me? Please?”
How could she resist that? Her stomach plunged.
His gaze locked on to her mouth. Hayden leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
Pulling her to him, Hayden wrapped his arms around her, gentle as a hummingbird’s wings.
With such slowness, he deepened the kiss. It was soft and sweet, with just a hint of the emotion that lay under the surface of both of them.
When he pulled back, Riley’s breathing came in bursts—ragged and haggard. His breathing was rapid as well. He’d been just as affected by the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers and stared deep into her eyes.
She couldn’t move. Her body refused to obey even the simplest of commands. No man, not Garrison nor Damon, had ever literally made her knees go weak. Not by just a single kiss.
It was anything but just a kiss.
“Ri, please forgive me.” His whisper caressed her cheek.
As if she wouldn’t now? She chewed her bottom lip and nodded.
He gave her a quick kiss, a squeeze of a hug on her uninjured side, then released her. Apparently she didn’t know how to stand by herself anymore because she swayed. Hayden steadied her, then left his hand under her elbow.
She let him lead her up the steps, turned to kiss him good night—the door shot open.
Rafe stood in the doorway, his face a grimace or controlled eruption, Riley couldn’t tell. But that expression meant one thing only—her brother was on the warpath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
