by Taylor Hart
This blow created a different kind of pain inside him. He let out a long breath. "What do you want from me?"
Sean turned back. “‘To thine own self be true.’”
Ryan glared at him.
Sean spit. “When you discover who you are again we’ll talk.”
Chapter 24
Charlotte draped her bag over her shoulder and took the steps down from her mother’s porch. She held to the rail because the past few days had left her emotionally drained and feeling weary. She hated that she felt fragile, like the slightest probing might set off tears. She hadn’t felt this way since her father’s funeral. Maybe that’s really why she felt this way—losing the ranch would be like losing him all over again. Thinking about Nathan’s smugness didn’t help either. The look on his face when he’d discovered the ranch couldn’t be sold was the same look he used to get when he won a board game—arrogant, prideful. It was the same look he’d had on the day she’d signed away any right she had to the Love fortune—like he had triumphed in such a way that she wouldn’t even be a piece on the board any longer.
“Bye, Mom.” Sam’s voice was tiny and sad.
She’d already said her goodbye, but she stopped and opened her arms.
Sam extricated himself from his grandmother’s hug and rushed down the stairs. He fell into Charlotte and sucked in a long breath.
Charlotte ignored the sound of Ryan getting out of the mustang and held tightly to Sam. “I’ll be home late tomorrow. You mind your grandma.” She rubbed circles into his back and kept him against her for an extra minute.
The tug of her bag being lifted off her shoulder surprised her.
She let Ryan take her bag and held Sam against her with her other arm.
Ryan wore dark jeans, a white button down shirt, and black, dress shoes. His hair jutted up and the bottom of her stomach filled with butterflies. The lingering scent of his fresh rain cologne brushed the edges of her like the warmth of a hot sidewalk after she’d run into the sprinklers as a child. It felt safe and comforting and nothing that she wanted to feel.
“Hey.” Ryan winked at Sam.
Sam tugged free and followed Ryan to the back of the car. “I think I saw Pluto last night.”
Ryan put the bag into the back and sized Sam up. “Pluto’s not a planet anymore.”
Sam lifted a finger into the air, and Charlotte knew he would plunge into one of his seven-year-old lectures on the mysteries of the universe. “Just because it isn’t an official planet any longer doesn’t mean there isn’t something out there in its place. They’re just not sure how to define it at this point. A dwarf planet is what they’re calling it. You see, it started—”
“Sam, we have to go.” Charlotte moved toward the passenger side of the car.
Her mother whisked down the steps, a concerned look on her face. “Thanks for going to all this trouble, Ryan. I know your partner said you were anxious to have the deal done.”
Ryan paused, but kept his eyes on Sam as he moved to open Charlotte’s door. “One thing I’ve learned to accept is that life never goes the way we think it will.” He playfully touched Sam’s nose. “Right?”
Sam rubbed his nose. “Yep.”
Charlotte didn’t want to hear the deeper meaning in his words. She didn’t even meet his eyes for confirmation that there was any. She hugged her mom and then slipped into the leather interior.
Ryan got into the car. “Ready?”
She waved at Sam and her mother. Only then did she raise her eyes to meet his. He was close in the car, and the blue of his eyes was bright, too bright. The purse in her lap felt like the only thing that would protect her. She didn’t usually take that much in a purse, but she hadn’t known what to take, and the result had been to over pack a bunch of stuff she knew she wouldn’t need. She opened it and began rummaging to avoid him. “I don’t really feel like talking.”
The mustang eased out of the gravel driveway and onto the highway. The car roared beneath them. Charlotte didn’t want to see how fast they were going. She was sure it was faster than the speed limit for this road.
Ryan shifted into another gear and pushed down on the accelerator. “Not talking is one thing we can agree on.”
They sped past the Hardman ranch.
Charlotte surveyed Ryan’s face. “Have you talked to them?”
He glanced to the property then back to the road. He accelerated into another gear. “You want to talk now?”
She stopped rummaging. “You’re the one that doesn’t want to talk about your brothers.”
He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We spoke.”
“Did you work things out?”
Ryan didn’t look at her. “Why did your father put that clause in his will?”
Charlotte put her bulky purse onto the floor and stared out the window. Her silence confirmed she didn’t want to talk about that any more than he wanted to talk about his brothers. She didn’t even want to think about it. She knew why her father had put the life estate clause into his will. It had never been directly spoken of to her, but she knew. It was the same reason she’d quit speaking to her mother for two years after Sam had been born. It was the same reason she’d been completely isolated and alone for years when she’d first been married, and she didn’t want to talk about any of that. “I don’t know.”
He sighed. “Don’t you think if I’m in this with you, I should know all the facts?”
“Sometimes people have things they keep from each other.”
His eyebrow shot up quizzically. “That sounds ominous.”
“What happened to you on that mission?”
His face froze then he frowned. “You must have seen the television expose.”
“I only know what I heard from my mother and Angela.”
The silence between them fell deaf and heavy.
“Ryan, I . . . I. . .”
“What happened between your parents?”
Charlotte fiddled with her nails. “Look, I told you I don’t want to talk.”
“You’ll have to talk at some point.”
Charlotte watched as the green farmland gave way to forest. She went back to messing with her nails. She always meant to give herself a manicure, but she just ended up cutting them short. “Obviously, neither of us has to talk if we don’t want to.”
“You always did that,” Ryan said softly.
She turned to him. He was staring at her hands.
Their eyes met. He looked back at the road. “I—”
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing. It’s just . . . you always bite your nails when you wanted to avoid something.”
“Did not.”
“Did too,” he shot back.
Their eyes met and, for a second, it felt like they were back to being eleven and twelve again. The way he knew things about her made her feel exposed. It was just a reminder of all of the things they used to be—all the things they could have been. “Look, don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Bring up the past.”
Ryan sighed.
“I don’t know all the details, but I do know my parents went through a rough patch.”
He let out a low whistle. “Cutting her out of the rights to sell the ranch means she made a pretty big mistake.”
“You’ve never made one?” She shoved it in his face like a cold, hard snowball.
Ryan jerked out a laugh, a bitter and soft laugh that ended all conversation. He turned up the radio and blasted classical music. To Charlotte’s horror, he actually seemed to like it. This was not the Ryan Hardman she’d known. He’d never let her change the station from country.
She tried to relax into the seat and let the heat from the vents soften the anger and confusion that stirred inside her heart. The problem was that this anger had been there far too long. The anger was mixed now, blurred like colors on an artist’s wheel. All the anger, grief and pain rolled together until the color that came out was just a flat, ugly bro
wn. Useless. She didn’t know exactly what she was mad about. Or what she wasn’t mad about. She sighed and opened her purse and began to rummage.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She stopped. “What?”
“Whatever you’re doing to avoid talking about the pictures.”
She felt the heat on her face and kept moving stuff around in her purse. “I’m looking for some lotion.”
He paused and glanced at her. “I haven’t seen those pictures for a long time.”
It angered her. The way she felt nervous and jumpy. She couldn’t let him know that she’d kept them or that she’d used them as her comfort, strength, and life boat when things got the hardest between her and Nathan. When the bruises hurt the most.
“You shouldn’t keep those things.”
Charlotte jolted up to look at him.
He shook his head in that stern way her father had always used when he’d been morally right about something. “The past should stay in the past. You can’t focus on it.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I was looking for the Scotch.”
Ryan kept his gaze on the road. “What are you talking about?”
“I was getting the Scotch. The Scotch I threw up yesterday, remember?”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “What has that got to do with the pictures?”
Charlotte glared at him. “My mother kept those. She actually brought them over the other day and put them in my closet, telling me she no longer wanted to store them. I just hadn’t gotten around to throwing them in the trash. I bumped the box when I was getting out the Scotch.” She laughed. “The Scotch was from my wedding. Like I said before, I’m not an alcoholic, okay. Obviously, the Scotch and the pictures are both things that should have been thrown out a long time ago.”
“Char—”
“I told you to quit calling me that.” She snapped it, but she held the anger, the pain, and the tears, tucking them all away, into the secret compartments in her heart she never opened.
Ryan sighed. “Your store front door doesn’t shut right.”
“What?”
“At the store. You should have that fixed. It’s easier for someone to break in if it doesn’t shut right.”
How had they gone from pictures to the front door? “Why are you even talking about this?”
He shrugged. “I just noticed it the other day, that’s all.”
She scoffed. “Look, I haven’t had time, okay. There’s always something broken, that’s just life, get over it.”
Ryan let out a puff of breath and turned up the music. “Never mind.”
An hour later, Ryan shifted into a lower gear and shut off the music. “We’re going to have to be civil tonight.”
Charlotte twisted to give him her attention. “I’m civil.”
Ryan shifted down gears as they turned off the main highway. “You don’t know Richard’s kind of civil.”
Charleston was still a good twenty miles away. Charlotte looked around, confused. “I thought he lived in Charleston.”
Ryan lifted a shoulder. “He lives relatively close to Charleston.”
It made her nervous not to know where they were going.
Charlotte crossed her arms. “Where are we going? Does your attorney live out in the middle of nowhere?”
Ryan snorted. “Richard could live wherever he wanted. He has houses all over the world. He doesn’t need the money. He agreed to talk to me because we go way back.”
Charlotte digested this. “You met him in the military.”
He nodded.
Charlotte watched the way his jaw squeezed into that stern position.
He glanced over at her. “He’s a brilliant legal mind. He’s rich. He doesn’t lose. But, well, let’s just say he’s a bit high maintenance.”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
Ryan took in her whole appearance. “You’re definitely his level of woman.”
Butterflies erupted into the lower part of her stomach. She pushed them away. “How come it feels like you’re insulting me?”
“It’s not an insult. Richard has excellent taste.”
She jerked to look at him, then turned away, feeling her cheeks flush.
Ryan sighed, like he didn’t have the patience or time for this question.
“You can’t just say that and then not give me an explanation.”
“Yes, I can.”
She let out a low growl.
He glanced at her again. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you a dance.”
“Get over yourself.”
He laughed—a solid, deep, rich laugh.
“I’m not dancing with you.” Those butterflies turned to an ache.
The mustang stopped in front of a tall, vine-covered wall. Charlotte thought the wall looked like something out of the dark ages—wide and eroding. She estimated it to be fifteen feet high. Ryan kept driving and pulled to a stop next to a small black booth. Steel black-gated bars formed a wide gate between the walls.
Ryan rolled down the window and a voice asked for a name.
“Ryan Hardman.”
A loud buzz sounded, and the metal gates creaked and opened wide enough for Ryan to maneuver through.
Charlotte inhaled sharply. The estate had a Tuscan feel to it with stucco clay-red arches and a fountain that was at the center of a flower garden. Even though it was the beginning of November, the garden blossomed with bright golds, pinks, blues, and yellows. “Oh my gosh.”
Ryan chuckled. “This farm was owned by old Charleston money. Cotton money, when there was such a thing. Truth be told, their real money was made during prohibition—illegal alcohol sales. After World War II, Richard’s father won it in a game of poker.”
“No way.” The property was lush and expansive.
“Yes. His grandfather decided to start a vineyard. This is the largest vineyard in South Carolina. Some of the best wine in the world comes out of this property.” He cleared his throat. “The family has a history of successful entrepreneurship.”
“And your friend Richard is a part of it?”
“No. Richard owns it. His father passed away a few years ago. He was the only son. His extended family is close, they live on the property.”
Charlotte noticed the many fancy cars and dressed up valets.
Ryan pulled to the side and waited.
She let out a sigh. “And I was thinking it would be a party more on par with a horse ride and clowns.”
Ryan lounged back against the seat. “Uh, no.”
“Angela and Star are going to die.”
Ryan drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. “Just . . . I need you to behave tonight. That’s all I ask.”
“What do you mean?”
“You heard me.”
For the first time that day, Charlotte smiled. “Oh, I’ll behave.”
Chapter 25
Ryan stared out the window that overlooked the Chavez estate. There were horse corrals to the south and a swimming pool with cabanas on the other end. Richard’s staff had gotten him and Charlotte settled into rooms next to each other. Each one had a sitting area and personal bath. The room was done in royal blue and white, and there was a large picture of a bull over the fireplace. Ryan had taken a shower and changed into a tuxedo provided by the staff.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Ryan opened it. Richard stood in front of him in a tuxedo, wearing a big grin on his dark face. His hair was slicked back, and his brown eyes looked happy. Usually, they appeared sharp, at attention, ready to evaluate and give an answer. He was a brilliant strategist who had been assigned to Ryan’s unit as the second in command. Richard had a heritage of military service. It had given him a loyalty and love of the United States that had compelled him to offer his skills to the military. Now he stood in his natural environment, and welcomed Ryan with open arms. “My friend.”
Ryan didn’t consider himself a hugging kind of person. But, for Richard, Ryan made an exception.
“Hey.” He awkwardly patted him on the back.
Richard stepped into the room. “Have you been taken care of?”
Ryan shut the door and followed Richard back to the large window. “To say the least.”
Richard surveyed the property, like a king taking inventory of his kingdom. “I take it your woman friend has been helped as well.”
Ryan shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you.”
Richard’s dark eyebrows lifted. “This is the woman you always spoke of?” His voice was light, inquisitive.
“She is.”
“The woman you loved.”
It was his gift—reading people’s feelings. Ryan and Alan had always teased him that this was Richard’s super power. He could decipher what people were thinking and feeling even before they did. Ryan knew this was what really made Richard such a good attorney. With his ability to read a jury or judge, he could manipulate people into doing what he wanted. Not to mention the fact his I.Q. was ranked in the top three percent in the world. It was how he had kept them all alive in that cave.
“We’re here because we need help on the deal.”
Richard sighed. “Love has nothing to do with it?”
Ryan kicked the toe of his shoe against the wall, leaving a black scuff mark. “Don’t start.”
A light laugh escaped Richard. “You don’t love her?”
Ryan shook his head. “This isn’t about love. It’s about getting a deal done.”
Richard spun to face him. “Friend, before I move forward, I need to know, do you still love her?”
Ryan sucked in a breath. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. That part of him was gone.
“Answer the question.” Richard’s words were clipped, hard, and court-like.
The pressure that had been building since she’d climbed in his car earlier that afternoon returned. “I did at one time.”
“Do you love her now?” he demanded.
Ryan thought of Sam and Charlotte and the life she’d built for herself in Hidden Falls. He thought of leaving her and leaving his brothers.
“Ryan?”
“No, I don’t love her.” It came out short, fast, sure.
Richard put a strong hand on his shoulder. He studied his eyes. “You’re sure?”
