by Deanna Chase
“Yes,” he said simply. “You’re brilliant.”
She shrugged one shoulder, trying to appear humble. “Nothing would’ve happened without Cameron. He had the connections and the experience with script writing.”
“The story and most of the arc were her ideas,” Cameron called from his perch on a ladder where he was still hanging gold ornaments on the tree.
“Congratulations,” Gideon said, cupping her cheek and bending his head to give her a soft kiss. “You deserve this.”
“Thank you.” She pressed her palms to his chest and narrowed her eyes slightly as she asked, “And what news do you have? What took so long?”
He cleared his throat and took a step back. “We should talk in private.”
All of the happiness that had consumed her at seeing him vanished. “That sounds ominous.”
“No, nothing like that. It’s about my father.” His words were clipped, but she knew his mood had everything to do with whatever was going on with his father and not anything she’d said or done.
“Did you get my message about him financing Witching for You?” she asked.
“Yeah, about that. That’s why I went back to Los Angeles—”
“Wait,” she said, cutting him off and taking a couple of steps backward. “You knew?”
“Yes, but—” he tried again.
“When did you know?” she demanded, her hackles up and dread seeping into her consciousness.
“Um, the day you hired Timothy. I called the office and—”
“You’ve known for two weeks!” she cried. “And you didn’t tell me?” He opened his mouth to say something, but she held her hand up, stopping him. “No. Never mind. I don’t want to hear this. You kept this vital information from me. I had to hear about it from my lawyer while you knew all along. That’s not how real relationships work, Gideon. Gods! After all these years, I thought maybe you were done being your father’s lap dog, but I guess I got that all wrong, didn’t I?”
“That’s not what happened,” Gideon said, his jaw tight with frustration. “I can explain.”
She placed her hands on her hips, cocked her head to the side, and said, “Well? I’m waiting.”
Gideon blew out a breath and ran an unsteady hand through his dark locks. “I was waiting to tell you until I figured out why he was backing the movie. I didn’t want you to stress about him and what he was doing until we had more information.”
“So you just cut me out as if I couldn’t handle it. Is that right?”
“It’s not that I didn’t think you could handle it. I just…” He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t know what he was trying to say. “I just wanted answers first.”
“So you could try to handle it?” she asked, practically spitting the words at him. The amount of rage and frustration consuming her was so overwhelming that she thought her head might actually explode. When he’d left her fifteen years ago, he hadn’t been honest with her then either. He’d told Miranda he was letting her go so she could live the life she was meant to live. And he was going to give his life working for the family business, as was always intended. His fantasy of opening a beachside gallery had been nothing but romance. “It’s time to grow up, Miranda,” he’d said.
“No… well, yes,” Gideon admitted. “My father shouldn’t be anywhere near this project,” he said solemnly. “If there was something I could do to change it, I would. Trust me. I’ve already made that clear to my father in no uncertain terms. In fact—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Miranda said. “I believe you when you say you’d change this if you could. The problem is that you can’t. But the bigger problem is that you don’t see me as an equal. You didn’t confide in me, just like you didn’t confide in me when you decided to go work for your father all those years ago.”
Gideon’s brow furrowed as he stared at her. “What do you mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you really think I didn’t know about the deal you two made? You’d work for him if he left my book deal alone.”
“How did you know that?”
“He told me, Gideon. When he threatened me. He told me never to mention you or talk about you to the press. Otherwise, he’d sue me into oblivion just because he could. Money buys you lawyers even when the case is groundless.”
“He threatened you?” Gideon asked, but then his features hardened almost immediately. “Of course he did. That bastard.”
“The point is, Gideon, you didn’t talk to me then and you didn’t talk to me this time. We have a connection, but I’ve never wanted a savior. I can’t be a part of something where I’m not a true partner. You should’ve discussed things with me. Both times. I deserve that much respect.”
“You’re right. You did and you do,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Can we start over?”
“No. I think it’s better if we let this go. Your life is in LA anyway. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be,” she said, praying that her heart wouldn’t break in two. As angry as she was about the situation, she did love him. She could forgive him keeping stuff from her because he thought he was protecting her, but she needed to just end this. She’d been living in a fantasy. It was time to wake up and move on.
“What if my life wasn’t in LA anymore?” he asked, studying her. “What if I moved here?”
She let out a bark of hysterical laughter. “You’re not moving here. What would you do? Host indie movie showings at Yvette’s bookstore?”
“I have a few ideas,” he said, moving closer.
She let him, and when he was just inches away, she pressed her hand to his cheek and said, “I’m sorry, Gideon. I just can’t do this again. It was hard the first time. This time might break me.”
His eyes bored into hers, and she could tell he was going to continue to try to talk her out of her decisions, but the tears were building behind her eyes and she had to get out of there. Turning on her heel, she spun and strode out of the building without looking back.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gideon hadn’t spoken to Miranda in a couple of days. He’d called and apologized to her voicemail and asked her to call him when she was ready. Then he’d ordered himself to give her space. He understood that she’d pulled away because she didn’t trust that he was ready to leave Los Angeles or defy his father enough to actually walk away. She’d learn soon enough though, because he was in Keating Hollow for good.
His house down south was already on the market, and his assistant Lenora was working on getting his personal things boxed and in storage until he could find a place to live. She’d taken his advice and gave notice just after Gideon left, but because Throm was an ass of epic proportions, he’d let her go on the spot. When Lenora called for a reference, he’d asked her to work for him in the interim until she found something permanent.
“Gideon!” a vivacious redhead called as she strode across Incantation Café, exuding confidence. “There you are. For some reason I thought we were meeting outside. Sorry I’m late. I got caught up chatting with Abby Townsend.”
He stood and held out his hand to Wanda Danvers, the town’s only real estate agent. “It’s all right. I’m not in a hurry.”
“Thanks, but I do at least try to be professional when I’m working.” She grinned and took a seat across from him, already pulling a folder out of her messenger bag. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot on the market right now. Just a couple of rentals and two homes for sale. None of them meet your specifications, but I figured I’d show them to you just in case you’re interested in something temporary until something comes on the market or you decide to build.”
“Build?” he said stupidly. He hadn’t said anything about being interested in a custom home.
“You don’t want to build?” she asked curiously. “There are lots up in the hills that feature incredible views of the valley. Both Brian and Jacob built up there recently. It’s pretty incredible. But if dealing with contractors isn’t your
thing, we’ll find you something… eventually.”
Gideon wasn’t exactly a stranger to construction. His house down south had been a custom build. And under other circumstances, he’d have been fine with considering that approach in a town that was growing and so limited on housing. The problem was that he wanted to live with Miranda in her perfect cottage on the edge of the trees. If she wanted to build something larger for the two of them, he’d be on board, but her place was so perfect for her that he couldn’t imagine her living anywhere else.
Not that she seemed interested in sharing her space with him. She wasn’t even talking to him at the moment.
He sucked in a breath and blew it out just to clear his head. “I’m not necessarily opposed to building, but I think I want to live here for a bit before I make any long-term decisions.”
“A rental then,” she said decisively. “I’ve got two, but curb your expectations. Neither are anything close to updated.”
Gideon shrugged. “I appreciate your candor, but how bad could they be?”
She snorted as she led him outside and to her sparkly purple golf cart. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“We’re taking this?” he asked as he climbed in beside her. “Isn’t it a little cold out here for that?”
She just grinned and flipped a switch. Immediately the seats started to warm.
“I see. That’s a great feature.”
* * *
Asking how bad the rentals could be had been a mistake. Because bad was an understatement. The first two-bedroom Wanda showed him was drafty, had shoddy electrical, and the kitchen sink leaked. If that wasn’t enough, the place smelled like moldy cheese.
“I think we can safely say this one’s a no,” he told Wanda.
“I don’t blame you.” She guided him back to her golf cart, blasted the seat warmers and the music, and zipped down the street to the next showing.
The second one had holes in the linoleum, squirrels living in the roof, and smelled like cat urine. “I find it hard to believe that these places even pass regulations,” Gideon said.
“Me too, honestly. But it’s probably been a while since an inspector has been out. I’m sorry. I did try to warn you.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “All right. Show me the ones for sale.”
“You got it.” They motored into another, nicer neighborhood, and Gideon started to feel encouraged. The first one was a two bedroom-one bath old-style Victorian. It hadn’t been updated since the seventies but appeared to be in somewhat-decent shape structurally. The second one was a two bedroom-two bath that had a different paint color in each room and olive-green appliances as well as bathroom fixtures. But it had great built-ins and a lovely view from the back porch that overlooked the river.
“This one,” he said. “Do you know of a decent contractor for remodeling?”
“Sure. Hunter McCormick, Faith Townsend’s husband. He comes highly recommended. Great work and reasonable prices.”
“Sounds perfect.” He glanced around at the layout of the house and decided that, no matter what happened, it would be a good investment. “Let’s get the paperwork started.”
“That was a fast decision,” Wanda said, eyeing him. “I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot or anything, but are you sure you don’t want to sleep on it?”
“I’m sure,” he said decisively. “Even if I decide I don’t want to live in this house, it looks like a solid investment.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” she said, beaming. “Back to the coffee shop? I can get the offer done on my computer while we warm up with some Irish coffees.”
“Hanna sells alcohol there?” he asked, sure he hadn’t seen that on the menu.
“Nope. But there’s a bottle of Irish cream stashed in the back.” She winked at him, and together they hopped back into the party cart. Wanda blasted Prince through the built-in speakers and danced in her seat the entire way back to Main Street.
Wanda hadn’t been kidding about the Irish cream. Once they had their coffees in hand, she grabbed both cups and disappeared into the back. When she reappeared, she was grinning and clearly pleased with herself. “Just don’t spread that little bit of info around. We don’t want to get Hanna into any trouble.”
“I’m a vault,” he said and sat back in his chair while Wanda worked her magic.
“Gideon,” Cameron Copeland said, striding up to the table.
Gideon glanced up at the man who towered over their table. “Hey, Cameron. What can I do for you?”
“Can we talk for a moment?” Cameron glanced at Wanda, who was eyeing him with interest.
“Well, hello there,” Wanda said and held out her hand. “I hear you’re pretty good with your pen.”
“That’s what I’m told,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “And what are you good at?”
She grinned. “That’s kind of a personal question, don’t you think?”
Cameron laughed. “I suppose so. Are you going to answer it?”
Shrugging, she said, “I’m a great real estate agent, a top-shelf golf cart racer, and if I like you, I’m the best date in town.”
“I just bet you are,” Cameron said, scanning his gaze over her body. “It’s short notice, but do you have a date to the ball tonight?”
“I was going to go solo. Keep my options open. But if you’re offering to get me a corsage and take me to dinner first, I’m not going to say no.”
“Yes to dinner, but I don’t know about the corsage. Is that a deal-breaker?” he asked.
Wanda laughed. “No. But you would be crushing my high school-prom fantasy. I never got to go because I was sick.”
“Corsage it is.” They exchanged numbers and set a time all while Gideon watched in awe at their blatant flirting and easy banter. Had he and Miranda been like that when they’d first met? No. Definitely not. They’d met in a coffee shop much like the Incantation Café. Miranda had worked there, and while she’d flirted with him, it had taken him a while to loosen up and go with it. He admired the way Wanda and Cameron were so at ease with each other even though they hadn’t met before.
“Gideon?” Cameron said again. “Ready?”
Gideon stood and followed the man to another table, and they sat across from each other. Gideon clasped his hands together and waited to find out what the man had to say.
“Did you have anything to do with the offer that came through for me this morning?” Cameron asked.
“What offer?” he asked, genuinely out of the loop.
“It’s for the Witching for You script. The previous screenwriter was let go, and now they want me to fix it.”
Gideon beamed. He had no idea what had gone down since he’d stormed out of his father’s office, but if Cameron was taking over the script, everything with the movie was going to turn out just fine. He might be a tiny bit jealous that Miranda spent so much time with him now that they were working together, but he knew Cameron was a brilliant screenwriter. Whatever he did with it, the movie was sure to be Oscar material. “No, I didn’t have anything to do with it, but I’m glad they hired you. It’s what the movie deserves.”
“Thanks, man,” Cameron said.
Gideon expected him to move on once he had the answer to his question, but instead, he eyed Gideon with curiosity. “What?” Gideon asked.
“When are you going to tell her you’re staying here?”
Gideon knew he was talking about Miranda. There was no reason to clarify. “Just as soon as she’s ready to talk. I left her a message. Now I’m giving her space.”
Cameron leaned forward on his elbows. “Listen, between you and me, she’s had quite enough space. She misses you.”
Sighing, Gideon leaned back. “I don’t want to push her. She’ll figure out soon enough that I’m here to stay. I’m buying a house near the river. That should convince her.”
“Interesting.” He stood and peered down at Gideon. “Well, our girl doesn’t have a date for the ball, and it woul
d be a damned shame if no one spun her around the dance floor after all that work she’s done.” He gave Gideon a cocky smile and added, “See you later, man.”
As soon as Cameron disappeared out into the cold, Gideon pulled out his phone and made a call. “Baker? What’s the word on my father? Did he pull out of the Witching for You production?”
“You don’t know?” Baker asked.
“I only know they hired Cameron Copeland to fix the script. My father and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
Baker chuckled. “Damn, man. You really are out of the loop. A story broke two days ago. Your old man was caught with his pants down with that young new star. She’s claiming abuse of power. Witching Hour shoved him out and they’re looking for new investors. But since your girl signed a deal with Cameron Copeland last week, it hasn’t been an issue. Everyone in the industry is vying for a piece of it.”
Gideon felt both intense relief for Miranda but also trepidation about his father. He wondered who leaked the story. Probably one of the admins. Or the actress herself. It was sort of ironic that his dad had spent so much time trying to bury the past when it was his current actions that were threatening to take him down.
“There’s talk of him stepping down and you taking over the company,” Baker added.
Gideon scoffed. “That’s wishful thinking. I’m done in Hollywood. But there’s someone I know over at Ace that would do an excellent job. I’ll put in a word for him with the board.”
“Name?” Baker demanded.
“Penn Lister. Why?”
“I’ll run a background scan on him. If he doesn’t have too many skeletons in the closet, then you can recommend him.”
Gideon chuckled. “You’re good to have around, you know that?”
“Yep. But you probably won’t be singing my praises when you get the bill.”
“Probably not,” Gideon agreed.
“I’ll be in touch,” Baker said.
Once the call ended, Gideon rejoined Wanda and said, “Let’s get me a house.”
