Chapter Fourteen

Hannah….

Why did I just open this Pandora’s Box? Why? “Can we just forget I said all of that?”

“Ah, no. And no.” She sits up straighter. “Talk to me. Why do I not know any of this?”

“I always had a crush on him, but he and I never really happened until after college.”

“You never said a word about him, at all.”

“He was like a rock-star crush. That’s what he felt like until the summer after college. You and I lost touch for a while back then. And besides, it happened, and then it was over.”

“Clearly not,” she says. “Talk to me.”

“I told you what there is to tell. We were all close growing up.”

“Now, see, you didn’t tell me that part.” She motions me on. “Keep going.”

“I was close to Jason, too. We were like siblings, but I crushed on Roarke. I was too young for him, and he treated me like a kid sister. Then I went home the summer after college, while I was sending out portfolios and résumés, and we fell in love. We were engaged. We ended.”

“You were young, honey. He was young. Time heals and time matures. Maybe now—”

“He cheated.”

Her eyes go wide. “With who?”

“Cindy Lou Phew.”

She laughs. “No, really.”

“That was her name. She’s a model. Look her up.”

She grabs her phone and does just that. “Oh, Phew, like phew—oh God. Forget the cursed name. She’s gorgeous.”

“Right.” I stand up. “I need to go.”

“Honey, don’t run from me. I didn’t mean to take you down Avenue F for fucked-up. How did he know Cindy?”

She didn’t mean to take me down Avenue F, but here we go. Down Avenue F. I grab the rail at the end of her bed. “The whole Horse Wrangler thing. He did that kind of thing before it was ever on the internet. He was hired by Macy’s for the Christmas parade. He was managing the horses for a group of models riding them.”

“Were you there?”

“I was, which made it worse, or maybe it made it better because I found out the truth. I don’t know. Either way, he disappeared for a couple of hours.”

“Disappeared?”

“He told me he was meeting with Macy’s executives, but then I got an anonymous video of him with Cindy hanging all over him.”

“Hanging on him? What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, not going down a path that offers excuses for Roarke. Been there, done that, didn’t save my heart from destruction. “I’m done talking about this,” I add. “I really need to go. I have to pack and make arrangements for the trip.”

“So a holiday festival, huh?”

“Christmas festival,” I amend.

“Christmas festival,” she repeats and points to the chair next to her. “Talk to me about the event, nothing more, I promise. Yes?”

I hesitate, but I don’t push back. I actually need to talk to her about this. “Yes,” I agree, sitting down in the spot she requested I sit. “And depending on the budget, I’d like to have your team handle the photography. If you’re up to it?”

“Hell yeah, I’m up to it,” she says. “That kind of event belongs on my résumé. And I love the holidays. Please tell me you’re putting Santa hats on Roarke and Jason and standing them under some mistletoe. That will get people to the event.” She grimaces. “Sorry, Hannah. I guess Roarke and mistletoe don’t mix for you. That was so stupid of me. I blame the drugs. They gave me lots of drugs. I’m a horrible friend.”

“You are not a horrible friend.” I have a flashback to kissing Roarke last night, and my cheeks heat. “You’re in business mode, thinking smart. Roarke’s a single man. He can kiss whoever he likes under the mistletoe, and since Jason isn’t a single man, he can’t. In other words, a campaign with Roarke under the mistletoe might be exactly the right way to get the women to town.”

“Hannah,” she says softly. “Don’t—”

“I am. It’s a great idea. I might need to use some of your contacts in the press.”

“What about mistletoe and the cowboys at the ranch? And a few hot baseball players from Jason’s team? Not Roarke.”

“Roarke—”

“Hannah—”

“Linda.”

She glares, and I start rambling about a bachelors auction to bring people to town, going with what works at the moment but getting excited about the idea as I talk. Linda perks up, and she lets the topic of Roarke pass us by. Or I think she does. Once my purse is on my arm and I’m headed to the door, she calls out, “Did he admit to cheating?”

I don’t have to ask who “he” is. Of course I know. I turn to face her. “He denied it, but he didn’t fight for me. He let me walk away.”

“Maybe your distrust hurt him?”

It’s not a thought I haven’t had myself, but it still doesn’t feel right. “Maybe. Get some rest. I’ll call you later.” I turn and disappear into the hallway, feeling the knife of the past twisting in my heart. So much so that I’m parking at the mall to shop, and I don’t even remember how I got there. My email alerts me to a new message from Jessica, and I pull it up: Hey, you! The wire is sent and the budget is attached. Let me know your thoughts. If the money isn’t fair on your end, don’t hold back. Talk to me. See you tomorrow!

I pull up the paperwork and about fall over at the size of the budget. This is going to be the best holiday festival imaginable, even in the short time window allowed. I tab to my income page, and this time, I about choke. I’m quite certain there’s a typo and an extra digit in front of the total. I quickly pull up my bank account and find the pending transaction for the same amount. I dial Jessica.

“Hey,” she greets. “You got everything?”

“Yes, but I think there’s an error. You paid me too much.”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Jessica, you paid me twenty-five thousand dollars for a month of work.”

“You’ll need to hire staff. You’ll need to be here for a month and—”

“This isn’t an error?”

“No. We trust you, and you know we’re requiring a confidentiality agreement so—”

“Wait,” I say. “You’re paying for my silence? I thought Jason and Roarke trusted me?”

“They do. Of course they do. They just have legal terms and—”

“I’ll sign the agreement, but I’m not taking that much money. I don’t need to be paid to be silent. I’m a friend, family, even. Or I thought I was. Maybe I’m mistaken on that. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jessica.” I hang up, throw my phone in the seat, and grab the steering wheel. How was I so wrong about my life back then?

I decide the mall is not going to happen. I’ll just buy some boots at the country store in Sweetwater. I need to go home and pack. Home. Sweetwater was always home, but that’s like saying Jason and Roarke were always family. And yet, they need to buy my silence?

I pull out of the parking lot and make the short drive to my apartment. I’ve just stepped back inside my place when my phone rings again. I stare at the number because even by memory, I know it. It’s Roarke. My God, is Roarke the one who now gets to fire me for hanging up on Jessica? I inhale and answer the line. “Calling to tell me why you want to pay me off?”

“We gave you what we’d give anyone else. Do you want us to cheat you?”

“Anyone who needs to be paid off to ensure your privacy is cheating you. I don’t need to be paid to keep your secrets.”

“You need to be treated fairly.”

“I thought—” I stop myself from saying, I thought I just needed to come home. I don’t know where that comes from, but it’s on the tip of my tongue.

“You thought what?”

“I thought we were friends, damn near family. I thought—”

“You and me, we’re a hell of a lot more than friends, and you know it. You pushing me away last night doesn’t change that.”

“We’re—”

“Us,” he says. “And that means something.”

“It means nothing. Not anymore.”

“Hannah,” he says, his voice low, rough. “You know what I regret?”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“You not coming with me last night.”

Me, too, I think, which only serves as proof that sleeping with him was a mistake. I’m not done with him and that was the idea—to feel done. “I’m going to donate the money,” I say, changing the subject.

“Talk to me before you do that. Come see me when you get here.”

I don’t want this request to please me. It’s business, and yet nothing about this man is business to me. “I actually need to talk to you about some ideas for the festival, so I’ll catch up to you.”

“We need to talk before you donate that money, Hannah. Promise me.”

“Fine. I mostly promise.”

“Mostly?” he challenges.

Once again, I change the subject. “How’s the mama horse and the foal?”

“I had to operate on her uterus, but we saved the pregnancy. She’s confined. She could use some love. The kind you give to the animals. Another reason to come see me.”

Memories of helping him with the animals suffocate me. Those were good times, special times. I’ve missed the animals. Damn it, I’ve missed him. “I’ll see you and her soon.” I hang up.