I pulled my room door shut behind me, making my way toward the stairs. I smoothed the short, black cocktail dress over my hips, feeling unusually exposed. Although if I really thought about it, the dress was no skimpier than the shorts and tank tops I wore on a regular basis. Well, other than my almost completely bared back, laced with three crisscrossing string ties.
I’d bought the dress on the sale rack at the back of a clothing shop called Mandy’s on Pelion’s Main Street. Even on deep discount, the dress was a splurge, but when I’d put it on, it felt both daring and somehow me even though I’d never worn a cocktail dress in my life. The only event I’d attended that one might classify as a cocktail party was the social hour here at The Yellow Trellis Inn where prison hooch was served in red Solo cups.
The owner, Mandy herself, had laced the ties up for me and when I’d asked her if it was too revealing, she’d smiled and said that no, I looked like a class act. Perhaps she’d just been trying to sell me the dress, but she’d seemed so kind and sincere, and I’d believed her.
My hair was long and loose, the curls tamed by a good amount of mousse, and a diffuser I’d borrowed from Clarice. The ends of it tickled the bare skin of my lower back.
I rounded the curve in the staircase and saw Travis, his back to me. I was stepping slowly in the heels I wasn’t used to wearing, and though I was virtually soundless, Travis turned as though he’d sensed my presence. And his body went utterly still. His eyes swept down my body and I saw his throat move as he swallowed. He was even more gorgeous than usual in dark gray khakis, a white shirt, and a blue and gray patterned tie. He’d obviously gotten a haircut, which made him look more vulnerable in a way I couldn’t exactly explain. Younger. Eager to impress.
Time slowed, stretching like the sweet, pink taffy I’d watched being spun in the window of a candy shop in a coastal town Easton and I had stopped at for lunch before we’d arrived in Pelion. Our gazes held as I completed the final handful of stairs and stepped down to meet Travis where he stood. His face was so very serious, almost stunned, and my heart kicked. “Enough skin?” I whispered, a strange hitch in my voice.
He smiled almost sweetly, a smile I hadn’t yet seen from this man, my friend. My temporary friend. His gaze dropped again and for a few moments he was quiet. When his eyes met mine, he said simply, “You’re perfect.”
My breath gusted from my mouth. I’d held it for a moment as I’d waited for his answer. Something moved between us, something lighter and hotter than the sweet, slow taffy that had just moved through my mind. It quickened my heart. It scattered fear through my system. “So you think Gage will approve?” I asked.
His face did something funny. He looked away for a moment and when he looked back at me, his lip quirked. “He’s a fool if he doesn’t. Let’s go, Haven from California.”
I heard chatter and the sound of others descending the stairs—the other guests staying at The Yellow Trellis Inn coming down for happy hour. “Oh! Bye, you two. Have fun,” Cricket said, coming around the corner and spotting us. I smiled at her, and when I glanced back at Betty, Clarice, and Burt, who had stopped near the bottom of the stairs, both women looked enchanted, their eyes glued. It was like we were their children and they were watching us leave for the prom. Betty whispered in Burt’s ear as though narrating our departure.
“I thought about getting you flowers,” Travis said. “But I figured a plant lady such as yourself, prefers living things keep their roots.”
I smiled, charmed by his consideration, and his accuracy.
When Travis opened the truck door for me, I looked over my shoulder to see Easton standing at his room window, watching us leave, looking both shifty-eyed and concerned, the fabric of the curtain gripped in his fist. Travis waved to him, shooting him that overly demonic smile he liked to use to harass Easton. A laugh rose in my throat, but I pretended not to notice.
“So I didn’t ask what this charity fundraiser is for,” I said when we’d pulled on to the main road, the lake sparkling under the lowering sun and sending glints of light into the cab of his truck.
“I think it’s for some animal habitat. The Buchanan family is always trying to save some endangered species or another.”
My heart melted. “How kind and generous.” Of course they used their—from what I’d gathered—substantial wealth to rescue animals. Gage was perfect. It only stood to reason that his family was perfect too.
Then again, I didn’t ascribe to that whole apple not falling far from the tree philosophy. If I did, I’d feel pretty hopeless about my own future prospects. And Easton’s too for that matter.
Travis was tapping his hand on the steering wheel distractedly. Finally, he sighed. “You’re right about the Buchanans,” he said almost begrudgingly. “They are generous. They are kind. Gage himself runs several foundations. He even chairs some kind of rescue habitat for possums.”
I laughed and he shot me an amused look. “Possums?”
“I know. Not exactly the sexiest animal, right? It’s probably why he doesn’t talk a lot about it. But he’s got a thing for them, I guess. Kinda weird, if you ask me.”
“I’m sorta weird too,” I breathed. This was fate.
“The whole plant thing?”
“Exactly. We’re perfect for each other.”
I bit at my lip for a moment and then pulled my phone from my small evening bag.
“Tell me you’re not googling possums,” Travis said dryly.
“The more I have to work with, the better,” I said, my eyes scanning the information on the website I’d pulled up.
The house was even grander than I’d pictured, a shining white castle on a hill. A fountain splashed and bubbled in the middle of a circular driveway, and lights shimmered and glistened from every corner of the property. It felt magical. An alternate universe. An alternate life, certainly from the one I was currently living, but even more so from the way I’d grown up.
A valet service greeted us, opening my door, the valet offering his hand. As I stepped down, I blinked in wonder.
You’ve aimed far too high, Haven, I told myself. Gage was handsome, kind, perfect. And yes, I’d known he was wealthy, but I hadn’t imagined this level of wealth.
You’re not looking to rope the guy into marrying you.
Surely even Gage Buchanan didn’t have anything against a summer fling with a girl just passing through town.
He was a guy, after all. He probably preferred flings above all else.
“Does Gage live here?” I asked. With his parents?
“No, Gage lives in his own house nearby. But the Buchanans host all their events here.” Travis led me into the house, and my neck craned as I glanced around at all the opulence. “Nice setup, huh?” Travis asked, leaning in toward me. “What do you think?”
“I think the entirety of the apartment I grew up in could fit in this foyer,” I murmured, distracted by the jaw-dropping size of everything.
When I looked at Travis, he was watching me closely. I fidgeted with my bag, and let out a laugh that felt false even to my own ears.
“What do you think of this place?” I asked. “Not overly impressed?”
Travis shrugged, glancing around. “Oh, it’s impressive. But I have the feeling a small-town chief of police’s salary wouldn’t cover the rent.” His lip hitched, but there was something in his eyes that contrasted his wry smile.
We wandered through a few of the wide-open rooms. The furniture had obviously been moved to accommodate the guests, with high-top tables covered in white linen placed around the perimeter where drinks could be set as people gathered and conversed.
The bidding items were set up in a room near the back of the house, the windows thrown open to the patio and gardens beyond. A band played in the corner, something crooning and jazzy, or so I thought. Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about music. Books were more my thing.
“Dance?” I turned my head to see Travis holding his hand out.
I laughed. “Dance?”
“That wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for,” he said, and though he attempted to add a sardonic tone to his voice, he sounded more offended than anything.
“Sorry. Truthfully? I’m not the best dancer.” I inclined my head toward the band. “At least, not that kind of dance.”
“It’s easy. All you have to do is trust and follow.”
Trust and follow. “I’m not so good at that,” I murmured.
He reached his hand out again and this time, I took it. There were several couples already on what had been designated the dance floor and we weaved through them, stopping when we were near the middle. I pulled in a breath as Travis stepped toward me, wrapping his arms gently around my body as I moved in closer. Closer. His body was warm and solid, and so much bigger than my own. He smelled like heaven.
My heart was pounding, I realized, and I attempted to slow it, to gather my nerves, to trust and follow.
For a few moments we moved stiffly together, our bodies swaying slowly to the music. All around us, the couples smiled and chatted, looking relaxed and casual, while every atom in my body felt frazzled.
“I like this song,” I said, swallowing. “What is it?”
He brought his head back slightly. “How is it possible you’ve never heard of Nat King Cole?”
I breathed out a laugh. “I don’t know.” Of course I did know. I’d grown up with a mother who didn’t offer a wide exposure to the arts, unless your definition of the arts was a People magazine she’d swiped from the methadone clinic now and again. And why did referring to her in the past tense still hurt so much, even after all this time?
I focused back on the song. It was beautiful and moving, and somehow unbearably sad. I relaxed against Travis, finally getting the hang of trusting and following, and allowing myself to do so.
For a few moments we simply swayed again, a different song starting. “Were things simpler then, do you think?” he asked softly. “These old songs always make love sound so . . . easy.”
I thought about that, listening to the man comparing his love’s face to a flower. “I don’t know if love has ever been simple,” I said. But I knew what he meant. The song alone seemed to convey the idea that love was all you needed.
I knew that wasn’t true.
And the man currently pressed against me had recently learned that lesson too, if he hadn’t known it already.
“My brother left town for a while, eight years ago,” he said.
I looked up at him, surprised at the change in subject. “Your brother?”
“Hmm hmm. Archer owns and runs Pelion. The land it’s on has been in my family since the town’s inception. It passes from one first-born son to the next.”
Wow. I had had no idea families owned entire towns. The Hale’s roots must be very deep. “Why did your brother leave?” I asked.
Travis shrugged, a small lift of his shoulders. “To find himself, I think. Sort of like you, maybe.”
“Did he?” I asked.
Travis was quiet for a moment. His expression was sort of distant and sort of sad and I had the odd feeling that this was a subject he didn’t discuss much. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully as though he’d found himself in a conversation he hadn’t meant to begin. But why would that be? It was his history. His family. His brother.
“He did,” he finally said. “Anyway, there was a party going on right in this very house the night he came back, which is why I thought of it. It’s still a thing of legend here. Bree, his wife now, was on the dance floor with someone or other when Archer arrived. The crowd parted, the earth moved, angels sang, and they’ve been together every day since. They have three kids now—the nephews and niece I mentioned—but they still look at each other the way I imagine they did that night,” he finished, almost as if to himself.
I breathed out a sigh. I felt charmed by the vision and the knowledge that since that moment, the two people he’d told me about had created a beautiful family.
Family. Roots. A rich history. My heart gave a sudden squeeze. What must that feel like?
The song came to a close and we stepped away from each other, gazes lingering. I felt slightly flushed, my emotions disorganized. I gave my head a small shake, fanning myself. “I should get some water.”
We walked to the edge of the dance floor, Gage suddenly appearing before us like a god from the mist.
“Travis. Haven,” Gage said, approaching us with a warm smile. “What a pleasant surprise. Thank you for coming.”
“Gage.” They shook hands.
“Hi,” I said, smiling, feeling better already, more on even footing now that Gage was standing in front of us. “Your family’s home is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Travis has been here a hundred times, but I’d be happy to accompany both of you upstairs where the bar’s set up.”
“I, ah, actually see someone I’d like to say hi to,” Travis said, sweeping his hand somewhere to the right. “But Haven did want a drink. Find me later, Haven?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling a strange twinge in my stomach at his departure. Here I was now, alone with Gage.
Which was exactly what I’d wanted, of course.
“I didn’t realize you and Travis Hale were dating,” he said.
“Oh, no, we’re not,” I explained as he led me toward the grand staircase. “We’re just . . . friends.” As if he’d heard something strange in my tone, he glanced my way, his eyes lingering on my face.
“Gage, darling,” an older woman said, sweeping up to us, her dark hair in a sleek chignon, her champagne-colored dress the picture of class and elegance, “have you seen your father? I’ve lost him again. I swear, I need to keep that man on a leash.” Laughter filled her tone.
“He’s in the billiards room sampling the cigars Mr. Henderson brought.”
Gage’s mother managed to make rolling her eyes look refined. “I should have known. It’s where he always hides.”
Billiards room. I felt dizzy and suddenly had the strange urge to laugh and cry simultaneously. I was with Gage. In his beautiful, perfect, family home.
Where there was a billiards room. I didn’t even know exactly what that was except that, well, it was probably used for billiards and apparently hiding from your wife.
“Mom, this is Haven Torres,” Gage said. “She works at the club.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Buchanan.” I stiffened momentarily, waiting for Mrs. Buchanan’s reaction to the fact that I was hired help. But she didn’t bat an eyelash.
“Haven, dear, so nice to meet you. Aren’t you lovely. My goodness, what I wouldn’t give for your hair.”
I smiled. There was nothing phony about this woman. She was warm and gracious and her compliment felt sincere. She was perfect. But of course she was. “I better run and catch my husband before he finds another hiding spot. Have a wonderful evening.” And with that, she swept off.
Gage and I chatted as he showed me to the bar, set up in a wide-open space on the second floor, where chandeliers shimmered, and heavy drapery adorned individual balconies that flanked the space. “Wow,” I murmured as Gage handed me a flute of champagne.
“So where are you from, Haven, and how long will you be staying in Pelion?”
“I’m from California, and I’m only here for the summer. My brother—who I’m traveling with—and I both took seasonal jobs at the club. We’ll leave once the season has ended.” Why on earth did I just say all of that in such a flat, practiced way? Was I so used to every aspect of my life being so temporary? Thankfully, Gage didn’t seem put off by it.
We’d wandered out of the grand room and into a hallway. Gage opened a door and led me outside on to a larger balcony featuring benches and potted trees adorned in twinkle lights. Something flowery and lovely met my nose, drifting from somewhere close by.
I wondered vaguely where Travis might be and who he’d gone to find.
Gage gestured to a bench where I sat down and then he joined me. It felt private and intimate and my heart picked up speed. “Tell me about yourself, Haven.”
A small jolt of panic flared in my stomach. What a terrible question. For anyone really, but especially for me. I swayed, feeling slightly woozy. What angle should I take? How could I tell someone—anyone really, but especially Gage Buchanan—about myself without revealing anything much at all? My pulse jumped. And how would I do that without sounding like the most boring human on earth? I remembered teachers going around the room asking that question when I was in school, recalling the way dread would sit heavy on my shoulders as my turn approached, my cheeks hot, head ringing. But Gage was only being nice. Kind. Because he was both of those things.
Of course, Travis would know what to say. Travis would have the perfect strategic answer that would convey just the right thing to pique Gage’s interest. And why was I thinking of Travis? Travis was the last person I should be thinking about right now. I fidgeted slightly, feeling suddenly strange and off-balance, nervous, and twitchy. All over the place.
I took a breath, placed my palms on the cool stone of the bench, and smiled. “Well,” I said slowly, “I’m adventurous. It seemed like the adventure of a lifetime to get in my car, and just start driving, see where life took us, you know? Seize the day, that’s my motto.” My voice fizzled out toward the end of my statement, squashing the enthusiasm I’d intended on conveying. The adventurous spirit. Look at me! I do wild things like hop in my car and just start driving! Like summer flings! I’ve never actually experienced one of those but I’d like to! How about you? I almost groaned at the pathetic, scattered nature of my thoughts, but managed to hold it back, rallying and again, taking a deep breath and smiling.
I was never nervous like this with Travis. Talking to Travis was fun. And easy. It just flowed. I felt like myself, not this anxious, babbling idiot.
That’s because Travis is your friend and Gage is your crush.
“What else?” he asked, and I swore I saw a hint of amusement in his eyes as though he was enjoying something. But what I wasn’t sure, because I certainly wasn’t being enjoyable. “What else? Oh. Um. I’m sort of a health nut—which you probably already knew.” I frowned, second-guessing my choice of wording. “Not a nut. I’m not a fanatic or anything, and my other motto is to each their own, so if you wanted to . . . oh, eat something laden with chemicals and carcinogens, I would say, have at it.” I blinked, laying my hand on his arm and leaning in a little. “Not that I want you to eat chemicals and carcinogens. Because your health might suffer, and you are the picture of health.”
His lip twitched. “Health is important to me too.”
“Clearly, yes.” I reached out and gave his bicep a small squeeze, my hand falling immediately, heat flooding my cheeks.
Oh my God. You actually just did that. Stop now, Haven. Stop touching him. And stop talking immediately. Immediately!
“And I love possums,” I added.
Gage’s face went blank. “Did you say, possums?”
I bobbed my head. “Mm-hmm. They’re, ah . . . they get a bum rap. They look sort of scary, and they hiss out of fear, but they’re not violent.”
“No,” he agreed, seeming stupefied. “What else do you like about possums?” he asked, almost hesitantly.
What else, what else? My mind searched to recall possum facts I’d learned less than an hour before. Oh! Right. “My favorite, of course,” I said, because it was really their greatest achievement, “is the way they um, eat up to five thousand ticks a year. Just think of all the Lyme disease they prevent. Little heroes, honestly. They should get more credit.”
That’s when I noticed Gage Buchanan was trying not to laugh, his lips trembling and his eyes squinting. I peered at him more closely, a sinking feeling in my gut. “Do . . . do you like possums?”
He did laugh then, his eyes twinkling. It wasn’t an unkind laugh, but it was a laugh. “I don’t not like possums,” he said. “But I can’t say I’ve ever given them a lot of thought. You’ve convinced me though. I should. Little heroes. I like that.”
Oh. My. God. If laughs could sound limp, mine did.
I was going to murder Travis Hale.
Where was he? I needed to find him right that second.
“Will you excuse me, Gage? I’m sure you have to get back to your guests. I’ve loved talking to you, and this house is like something out of a fairy tale. Thank you for having me.”
And without waiting for him to respond, I got up and stalked toward the door, flinging it open and going in search of my friend the lying liar!
