One Hundred Secrets (An Aspen Cove Romance Book 10)

by Kelly Collins

  Wes nodded. “Ray had Tuesday night poker from time to time.” He pointed to the walls of books. “Can’t remember Ray being bookish.”

  “That’s all me. I built the shelves to house my guilty pleasure.”

  Wes picked up a vial of soil. “Books, maps and dirt. It’s always the quiet ones. I hear you’re some sort of scholar.”

  He shook his head. “Shouldn’t believe everything you hear. I used to be a high school history teacher.”

  Goldie sat up. “You were?”

  “What about you, Goldie? Are books your thing too?”

  Both men looked at her, but it was Tilden who saw the slight change in her expression. The thinning of her lips and the glazed-over look she got when she took in the bookshelves.

  Tilden answered for her. “Goldie believes that a picture is worth a thousand words. Whereas I like to read the words, she’d prefer the movies.” He pointed at the phone in her hand. “She doesn’t even read her messages but has text to voice talk to her like a personal secretary.”

  Wes shrugged. “Everyone has their thing. Lydia likes cozy mysteries and bodice ripper romances. I bury my head in architecture magazines.” He touched the maps. “What’s this all about?”

  “Nothing really. Just a bunch of old maps Ray left behind.” He saw Goldie’s mouth drop open, but she didn’t say a word.

  “I get it. History buff and all.”

  “Something like that.” He pushed the papers to the side. “What about the piping? I think it’s almost to the house. Maybe another fifty feet or so and we can hook up the water and install a big ass tank.”

  Wes rose from his seat. “Let’s have a look.” He waved to Goldie. “Good to meet you. See you soon. You’re working at the brewhouse on the weekends, right?”

  “For now.”

  Tilden didn’t like that answer. For now, meant she was thinking about something different in the future. While Wes might not have noticed the change in tone to her voice, he did.

  They walked out the door and he showed Wes where the line ended.

  “I didn’t know you were still dealing with a pump and an outhouse. We could have fixed this right away.”

  “Money got in the way, but with Goldie here … well, I don’t want her running to the outhouse in the middle of the night.”

  “You two a thing?”

  Tilden looked over his shoulder. “I’m not sure what we are, but we’re something.”

  “Everything starts with something.”

  Wes told him he had a couple of guys out of work for the winter that would be happy to bring up the trencher and pave the way for the new piping. If all went according to plan, they could have it finished up and inspected by Friday. Once they agreed on a price, Wes left, and Tilden walked inside to find Goldie sitting at the table looking over his maps.

  “Why did you lie to him?”

  “What?”

  “You told him these maps were Ray’s. They’re not. You drive to Copper Creek every week to get information on this plot of land. Why?” She pushed the maps away from her and looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a history teacher?”

  He wasn’t ready for this conversation. “Because I don’t owe you my truth.”

  She pushed back from the table and fisted her hips. “It’s fine for you to tell me to be authentic when you’re lying to everyone around you. I thought you were real, but you’re worse than my friends. At least I know they’re fake. But you … you made me believe in you, and I have no idea who in the hell you are.”

  “The difference between you and me is that I never lied to myself. You do that all the time.”

  “I know exactly who I am. I’m the girl who gave you everything she had left to give last night. Shame on you for taking what you didn’t deserve. Shame on me for thinking you did.” She picked up her mug of coffee and flung it at him. The handle skimmed his cheek and crashed against the door.

  He grabbed his keys and walked out the front.

  “You said you wouldn’t leave,” she yelled after him.

  He started his truck and took off toward town. Goldie Sutherland had gotten under his skin and he needed to distance himself.

  When he reached the diner, he walked inside and looked around. His normal table was vacant, but he didn’t take it.

  Doc was seated in the back, corner booth. He was known as the town mentor and Tilden needed advice.

  “Mind if I join you?” He stood at the edge of the table and looked over Doc’s newspaper.

  Doc folded his paper and set it aside. “Have a seat, son. What’s on your mind?” He took a deep breath and told him all about Goldie and her social media life. How she had trust issues and how he wasn’t sure where she fit in his world, but he knew she fit.

  “How much truth does a person need to know? Can’t a man have some secrets?”

  Doc moved his lips, which made his mustache shift left to right. “You like this woman?”

  Tilden rubbed his eyes.

  “I do, but I have some reservations.”

  He had feelings for Goldie, but he wasn’t sure how deep they ran. All he knew was that having her in his life was far better than being alone. That even seemed shallow because she was far more than a warm body. She made him laugh. He loved the way her smile could dazzle him. Loved the stories she told about her life as the child of a movie star. Hers wasn’t the easy life people would assume. It came with the ever-present eye of the paparazzi. The judgment of the world.

  “What’s got you worried?”

  “She was never able to be herself and that makes me wonder if the woman in my cabin is actually the woman I’m falling for or someone in transition to being her true self?”

  Doc laid his gnarled hands on the table. “Aren’t we all in transition? No one is their true self. We’re all evolving. You can be a role model for Goldie. You’ve already become someplace safe for her to land. What a gift you can give each other. To grow and mold each other into the best people you can be.”

  “But what if we’ve both been dishonest with each other?”

  “Straighten it out, son. The truth can never be too late and starting a relationship on truth will give you a solid foundation.”

  Doc looked down at his half-eaten pancakes. “You want any more advice you’ll need to make an appointment. Lovey is waiting for me to take her to Bingo in Copper Creek.”

  Tilden pulled a twenty from his wallet and set it on the table. “Breakfast is on me, Doc. Thanks for the wisdom.”

  “Anytime.”

  Tilden turned around and walked out of the diner. Could he be honest with Goldie about everything? It wasn’t so much that someone in his family might have been a murderer but about how he’d kept his known identity secret to the people he liked the best. Eventually, he’d have to come clean to everyone. His mother once told him that being a liar was the worst sin of all because it stole the truth from everyone else. Goldie deserved better. She’d been honest with him. Wasn’t it time he was honest with her?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Goldie didn’t like the silence. Her life had always been full of noise. If it wasn’t the click of the camera, it was something else. Traffic, movie set equipment, her tutor, her phone.

  She hated that Tilden left her alone in the cabin. Hated that he lied to her. Hated that he was right about her lying to herself. She flopped onto the bed and pulled the pillow over her head and screamed.

  Her mother told her that all good things in life came in threes. Like a story, there was a beginning, a middle, and an end. A good meal started with ingredients, the skill to cook them, and a moment to enjoy. Love started with courtship, a proposal, and a marriage. A fight began with a difference of opinion, an argument, and then the makeup session.

  She screamed again into the pillow. When something touched her leg, she dropped the pillow and screamed again, certain the wolf had made it inside the house, and she was about to be its meal.

  There was a wolf all right. He had big,
dark chocolate eyes and a beard that could make her sing when it was rubbed in the right places.

  “Get your coat, we’re leaving,” his gruff voice demanded. He let his fingers skim down her leg as he walked away.

  When he opened the door, a few flakes of snow blew inside.

  Her mind reeled. Was he kicking her out?

  No, he couldn’t be, or he would have told her to get her stuff and leave. He said to get her coat because they were leaving.

  She rushed to the closet and pulled on the pink felt jacket that was perfect for short jaunts in the outdoors, but not made for an arctic trek. After she shoved her hair into the matching hat, she walked outside and found Tilden leaning against his truck.

  How funny was it that only weeks ago she thought he looked like a cross between a convict and a grizzly bear, and today he was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on?

  “Where are we going?” She stomped forward, the layer of snow on the ground eating up the sound of her boots. “If you’re going to murder me and leave me in the woods, I want to text one of my friends and let them know.” She held up her phone and smiled, hoping to get a different expression than narrowed eyes and a frown.

  He walked toward her and cupped her cheek. “Honey, I’m your only friend, and I alone will know where I’ve dumped your body.” The corners of his lips twitched until they rose into a smile that lasted only a second. One glorious second.

  With his hand on her back, he led her to the passenger side of the truck and helped her into her seat. “Kiss me now because I fear you may not want to after this trip. I need one more taste of your sweet lips.” He didn’t give her a chance to think about it. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her like it would be their last. It was an angry kiss that somewhat felt heavy with misery. When he pulled away, there was so much sadness in his eyes that she nearly cried.

  When he climbed into the driver’s seat, she asked again, “Where are we going?”

  “We’re seeking the truth.”

  “Whose truth?”

  He reached over and held her hand. “Mine, because I haven’t been fair to you. A wise man told me that all relationships should start on a solid foundation.”

  She twisted her body to face him. “Are we in a relationship?” They had agreed that it was one night, but those were cursory words to get the moment started. She wasn’t a one-night stand girl. She’d only had one before him and it took a month of hot showers to cleanse that bad decision from her body. Last night was different. It didn’t feel like a bad decision. It was perfect in the most imperfect way. Another three. Hot bath. Wine. Amazing sex.

  He gave her a quick glance. “I don't know what we are, but I feel like I’m the spider and you’re the fly. You’re caught in my web. Then again, maybe you’re the spider and I’m the fly, and I’m caught in yours. Either way, you should know the truth.”

  Her heart raced. It was all so cryptic, so cloak and dagger. What could he tell her that needed an immediate trip in a winter storm?

  “Have you been to prison?”

  He dropped her hand and put it on the steering wheel. “No.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a history teacher?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t relevant, and it would open the conversation to more questions.”

  “Questions you don’t want to answer?”

  He gave her a side glance. “Questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “And now you are?”

  He sat with his shoulders stiff, and his eyes forward. His body leaned toward hers when he took a quick turn onto a country road that led into the mountains.

  “I’m ready because of you. You deserve to get a glimpse at the full picture.”

  “Everyone around town says you never talk. Is it because of whatever truth you’re going to tell me?”

  He let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed. “As a general rule, I’m a quiet man. I don’t need much more than a good book and a comfortable chair.” He pulled the truck to the edge of a vista. Big flakes of snow floated down around them. When he killed the engine there wasn’t a sound except for their breathing. “Look, I don’t say much to others because when I’m silent, no one engages. Until I find out the truth about my family, I don’t want people asking questions.”

  “Your family?”

  He turned the key halfway so the wipers turned on. “You see that land?” He pointed to the wide-open space in front of them. “Look out as far as you can.”

  She leaned toward the windshield and squinted to see through the storm. Every once in a while, she’d glimpse a mountain range on the other side of the flat expanse.

  “Okay, it’s a lot of land. What does it have to do with you?”

  “That’s the question of the day. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that my family owned that land. We’re talking hundreds, maybe thousands of acres.”

  If his family owned the land, why was he living in a small cabin without running water? “I don’t understand.”

  He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned toward her. His eyes were shadowed and tired. No doubt because he’d stayed up all night pleasuring her.

  “In order to comprehend what I’m dealing with now, you have to go back to the late eighteen-hundreds, when the Coolidges owned this land. They grew wheat and hops and corn. Like Zachariah, they did a bit of bootlegging, except back then, it was legal.”

  “Is Zachariah a relative?”

  His breath sputtered from his lips. “God, I hope not. It’s bad enough that I found out Ray is probably related to me. If rumors are true, he’s part of a line started when Abby Garrett’s grandfather had an affair with my great-great-aunt Virginia, who was already married. I might have to feed myself to the wolves if I found out I was kin to old man Tucker.”

  “You’re saying you’re a Coolidge and not a Cool.”

  “I’m legally a Cool. I don’t know when the name change happened, but according to my great-great-grandma Treasure’s diary, the family name is Coolidge.” He stalled for a minute. “What you really need to know is that my great-great-grandfather Isaiah Coolidge might have murdered Walt Carver over water.”

  She took that in. Many people had skeletons in their closets. She did. Hell, she didn’t even know who her father was. Could have been any leading man, to any lighting guy. Her mom always loved the lighting guys because they had the power to make her look younger.

  “You’re hiding your true identity because someone who probably died over a hundred years ago murdered someone? Are you insane? You probably have a claim to the land.”

  “I’m not hiding. I’m just not sharing. This is a small town and people have long memories. Their ancestors still live here. Doc, Agatha, Abby, Wes … they’re all related to the founding fathers. Bea Bennett, who passed as I arrived, was the last owner of the property.” He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “I like these people. While it would have been easier early on to tell them who I thought I was, I’ve come to care for and respect them. I value their friendship, and I don’t want to risk what I’ve built here. I don’t want them to judge me.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t want them to judge you? Wasn’t it you who gave me a hard time for allowing people to judge me? You’re no different than me. Hiding under your great-great-grandmother’s petticoats is like me hiding behind my lies about my age and my size and my financial position. I fooled everyone for so long that I started to believe my own lies. Can you believe that I had to look at my driver’s license to know how old I really was?”

  His face turned red. “You and I are nothing alike. You used people to make money, and I refuse to use anyone.”

  “You’re wrong, you’re using everyone but it’s worse because they don’t know it. At least I was transparent about why I did what I did.” She put on a fake smile and pointed down. “There was no false message in ‘click the link below because I need anothe
r Prada bag.’ You don’t get to talk out both sides of your mouth and condemn me for trying to stay in the spotlight when you refuse to own up to who you are.”

  “Are you telling me you owned up to who you were?” he asked. The heat of anger rolled in waves between them.

  The energy dance in the air was making the hair on her scalp tingle.

  “No, but I was trying to become something. I wasn’t hiding in a one-room cabin. Poring over maps. I was …” She thought about where she was going with her thoughts. She nearly sunk in her seat. “You know what … you and I are exactly alike. Neither one of us is owning who we are. Both of us are doing our best to correct past mistakes, whether they be ours or our ancestors’. You’re the pot calling the kettle black.”

  He looked out at the land in front of him.

  A single ray of light broke through the clouds to light up what should have been his land.

  “It’s not the same. No one in your family killed anyone.”

  She swallowed hard. “No, but what you’re not focusing on is you didn’t kill anyone. You can’t be responsible for what happened before you.”

  “Don’t you get it? They ran my family out of town. That forever changed the trajectory of our lives. We were no longer landowners. My mom waited tables until she died from an aneurysm and my dad drank himself to death. How different things would have been if my ancestors had worked their land, grown their wheat, sold their moonshine.”

  “Don’t forget that they aren’t their ancestors either. You can’t change the past, but you can change your future.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, but I care about the people of Aspen Cove. I don’t want them to hate me.”

  She understood that all too well. “They can’t hate you. Hell, they don’t know you. Show them who you are. If they hate you after that, then that’s their problem. Wasn’t it you who told me to be authentic? Practice what you preach.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Goldie’s words ran through Tilden’s head all the way home. When they pulled in front of the cabin she jumped out before he could come to a complete stop.