The Complete Rixton Falls Series

by Winter Renshaw

  “Good for them.” I can’t take my eyes off his house. I want to see it all. Experience it. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. The antithesis of the childhood I knew. “This looks like a beautiful place to grow up.”

  “I mean, it’s not Belcourt Manor, but we had a treehouse. And you can’t tell in the dark, but our backyard butts up to a baseball diamond, which was always nice in the summer.”

  “No, it’s lovely.” I turn to him and catch him watching me. “You’re very fortunate to have grown up here.”

  Derek laughs. He doesn’t take me seriously. And how could he? Days ago, I was asking for a thirty-grand-a-month entertainment allowance like some out-of-touch moron.

  He shifts into drive and presses his foot on the gas. The big blue house fades in the distance as I watch from my side mirror. Derek takes me past every park he ever hit a home run in as a kid, he takes me past the water tower that tipped over in 1995 after being struck by lightning, and then he shows me the dog park and where his childhood best friend, Royal, used to live when they first met.

  “I’m grasping at straws here,” he admits after an hour. “I think I’ve shown you literally everything there is to see in Rixton Falls. And I may have overshared a few details, so for that, I sincerely apologize.”

  “It was quite the extensive tour,” I say. “I appreciate service that goes above and beyond, counselor. Well done.”

  “Ready to go back?”

  “I am.” I fold my hands across my thighs as we approach a red light, and Derek messes with the radio volume. And the rearview mirror. And the temperature settings. The light turns green and we speed ahead, riding in silence until we reach his parking garage.

  A phone call rings over his speakers, and he takes it.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” A woman’s voice fills the car.

  “In the car.” His voice is low, even-keeled. Like he’s trying to be cool and calm. Like he didn’t just give me a tour of his childhood like some adorable dork. Like he hasn’t noticed me checking out how great his ass looks in those ripped jeans. Like he hasn’t been staring at my lips like he wants to devour them since the second I stepped out of the guest room.

  I stare out the window and attempt to focus on anything else. There’s a jewelry store sign. A green trash can. A mailbox. A cupcake shop.

  “What do you need, Demi?” he asks.

  Demi.

  His sister.

  I exhale, politely pretending not to listen—as if that’s even possible when her voice is blasting from the speakers.

  “You texted me earlier about running Haven to school Friday morning, and I was calling to tell you that Royal has Friday morning off from class, and he could take her if that’s okay,” she says. “I have to work. Mom has a doctor’s appointment at ten. Royal’s your only option.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine with that. He’s going to stay at the preschool for two and a half hours and wait, right?” Derek asks. “He won’t go anywhere?”

  Demi’s breathy laugh fills the speakers. “He will not leave the premises. Not even if some man in a van outside says he has puppies.”

  Derek rolls his eyes, his full lips twisting up.

  “Royal will protect Haven with his life. You know that,” Demi says. “He’ll take her, wait there, and bring her home. Mom’s watching her afterward, right?”

  “Right.” Derek slicks his palm along the steering wheel, his chest expanding and falling as he breathes deeply and lets it go.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got this. Don’t stress, okay?” Demi consoles her brother. “Haven’s in good hands. I’m pretty sure we love her more than we love you, and we kind of love you a lot.”

  Derek’s perfect mouth widens for a quick second. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Tell Royal thanks.”

  “Will do.” Demi ends the call.

  “So.” He turns to me. “That was Demi, the rightful owner of the Us Weekly under your seat.”

  I can smile about it now. I like her. She seems down to earth, and I love watching her razz her brother, because I get the impression that there aren’t a lot of people who regularly give him crap.

  And he’s always so serious, which is why I call him “counselor.” He needs to lighten up.

  Growing up, I always wanted a sibling. Someone to fight with. Someone to love unconditionally. Someone to share the good and the bad with.

  But it was always just me.

  All by my lonesome.

  “She seems nice,” I say.

  “She’s been through some stuff the last six months.” He switches on his turn signal and pulls into the parking garage. “Was engaged to this guy. He was seeing someone else. Got the other girl pregnant, unbeknownst to my sister. Called off the engagement. Got into a car accident on his way to see the other woman . . .”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. He was in a coma for a couple of weeks. Apparently, he’d done some horrible things and hidden them from my sister.” Derek shakes his head. “I mean, it was like everything just bubbled up to the surface all at once. And then her ex showed up out of nowhere.”

  “Is that . . . Royal?”

  “Yes,” Derek says. “They’re together now. The other guy is long gone. Last I knew, he was under house arrest and preparing for his trial. He’ll be going away for a long time.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Stole a lot of money from a lot of people.” He pulls into his reserved spot and shifts into park before shutting off the engine. “Ponzi schemes. Credit card fraud. That sort of thing.”

  “How awful.”

  “Don’t let this sleepy little town fool you. We have just as much drama as the next town.”

  We climb out of his car and head toward the building, and I swear I feel the trace of his fingertips on the small of my back when he gets the door. But when the wind catches my blouse, I’m convinced I’m only imagining it.

  By the time we reach his apartment, my feet ache, the heels cutting into my flesh, but my heart is pounding so fast, I hardly notice. The realization that I had a great evening with Derek slams into me as I watch him punch his code to unlock the door.

  For the first time in a long time, I was able to focus on something other than my despondent situation.

  But none of that matters. I’m not looking for a place to hang my heart, and I’m sure as hell not looking to give it away anytime soon. Besides, the idea of being with someone is always better than the reality.

  Derek pushes the door open and ushers me through. He steps out of his dress shoes and leaves them neatly on a navy blue rug in the entrance. Based on the afternoon I spent alone in his place, I can tell he likes his things a certain way. I’m almost positive he’d notice if I put the salt and pepper back in the cupboard in the wrong order or if the magazines on his coffee table were shuffled.

  We stand in the entryway like two awkward teenagers attempting to wrap up a first date. Laughing through our noses. Intermittent eye contact. A fake yawn.

  “Thanks for showing me around tonight,” I say.

  “I just want you to feel comfortable. I know you’re out of your element here.”

  “Do you give all your clients the VIP treatment? Or just me?” I’m half-joking, half-not. I want his answer more than I can admit out loud.

  “No. Just you.” He doesn’t hesitate, but his benign expression fades into seriousness as our eyes lock.

  “Why me?” My voice breaks. My stare doesn’t.

  “I don’t know.” He glances to the side.

  “Come on.” I laugh, my head falling to the side. “You can do better than that. Why are you so good to me? I wasn’t the nicest to you those first couple of days. You must think I’m spoiled and completely delusional. I don’t imagine there’s much you find appealing about me. So why do this? Why take me in?”

  My father’s words echo in my mind. My entire life, he convinced me that any man with “less than us” would only ever love me for my money. And I can just imagine Eudora if she saw u
s right now. Steaming mad. Foot-stomping mad. She’d give me an earful and tell me he has something up his sleeve.

  “Kindness doesn’t always require ulterior motives, Serena. At least not where I come from.” His mouth hardens, and I concentrate on the dark lashes framing his even darker eyes. He has pretty eyes, especially for a man. Maybe that’s what makes him seem so nonthreatening and trustworthy. “I was enlisted to protect your estate, but I can’t, in good faith, leave you there when I’ve witnessed the way those people treat you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Derek. You could have left me there. And you didn’t. I’m just wondering why.” I shrug, like my question is no big deal. But it is.

  “It’s just the way I was raised. If you see someone in trouble, you help them.” The center of his cheek hollows, and his hands rest at his narrow hips.

  “Right, but I’m the first client you’ve invited to come live with you. That kind of takes helping to a whole new level, don’t you think?”

  Somehow, the space between us has tightened. I’m not sure if he moved my way or I moved his, but here we are, sharing air, breathing each other in. My heart hammers in my chest, and my eyes are locked hard on his.

  “What do you want me to say?” He shakes his head. He’s annoyed with me. He doesn’t like where this conversation is headed.

  “What happened to no bullshit between us?” I slip a hand on my hip. “Your words.”

  “There’s no bullshit between us.”

  “But you’re not being honest with me. You’re walling yourself off.”

  “Because you’re fishing for answers to questions that I couldn’t possibly give you right now.”

  “And why is that?”

  “They’re answers I don’t have.”

  “Answers you don’t have? Or answers you don’t want to give?” I take a step toward him, and he doesn’t bat a lash. He studies my face. I study his. Mentally, I retrace all the steps that led us to this moment tonight.

  Our dinner and drive were benign enough. Conversation was easy. I was comfortable. We both handled ourselves as adults, ignoring the touches and glances and whatever the hell was in the air tonight that made it impossible to deny that something was shifting.

  But somehow, we ended up here anyway, swimming in a sea of tension, asking ourselves things we never expected to need to know.

  Derek groans, his lips tight and chocolate eyes focused. “Don’t do this, Serena.”

  I offer a sarcastic “ha” and cock my head. “Don’t do what, Derek?”

  “Don’t steer the conversation this way,” he says. “You know damn well where it’s heading.”

  I play dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Play with fire all you want, but I refuse to take advantage of you. I’m not going to explore anything remotely inappropriate with you because you are my client. That violates the Moral Code. Messing around with you could land me in scorching hot water. I won’t risk it.” He leans in, and I close my eyes, feeling his lips brush against the side of my cheek. “As tempting as it is.”

  He pulls away.

  “So I regret to inform you that I’m not going to kiss you,” he says, “despite the fact that it’s been all I could think about since the moment you walked out of your room tonight.”

  My stomach flips, and I bite my lower lip.

  I knew it.

  “I really wish you hadn’t said that.” I glance up at him.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because it changes things.” I slink a shoulder to my ear and let it drop. “Now every time I look at you, I’m going to be thinking about how you want to kiss me. And how I would probably let you.”

  Derek’s tongue grazes his lower lip for a fraction of a second, and my heart freefalls.

  “You’re nice, Derek,” I say. “You’ve shown more kindness to me than I deserve. I’m comfortable around you. I’m myself around you, and I can’t say that I’ve ever really been myself around anyone. It’s like the walls, the façade . . . none of it is necessary with you. You’re real and genuine. I don’t know anyone like that. Not personally.”

  “I’m sorry they don’t make them like me where you’re from,” he says. “But before you so much as attempt to craft me into some fantasy boyfriend in your pretty little head, let me strongly advise you to save yourself the hassle and let it go.”

  “I don’t want to date you.” My lips curl up at the corners. He has this all wrong. “I don’t want anything. I just like how I feel around you. That’s all. Is that some kind of crime, counselor?”

  My high school history teacher always told me my mouth would get me in trouble someday. I was too honest, he would tell me. Of course, that was after I called him out for checking out my best friend’s ass in the hall between first and second period. Amongst other things.

  I can’t help it. I call things as I see them, and I always have. I’m not good at pretending. I’m horrible at being something I’m not. It’s physically painful to swallow the very words that sometimes sit on the tip of my tongue.

  “Look.” He takes a step away from me, and I feel my insides deflating. “It’s been an intense week. We’ve had some drinks tonight. We had a nice time together. You’re feeling better about your situation and you’re redirecting those feelings toward me. But I can assure you, I’m not what you need.”

  “How would you know what I need?” I scoff, giving him a look that starts at his head and ends at his feet before zipping right back up. “You know nothing about me.”

  “You’re right, Serena. I know nothing about you.” He takes another step away. “You’re my client. I’m letting you stay here until you get on your feet and we straighten out your estate. Let’s not complicate things.”

  “Don’t you think we’ve already arrived at complicated? Christ, Derek, you just admitted you’ve been thinking about kissing me all night, and I basically told you I wanted you to kiss me.” I drag my fingers through my hair and tug a fistful. “Now you want us to walk away and pretend like this conversation never happened?”

  “We’re adults. I think we can handle it.” He’s standing at the island now, like he can’t get far enough away from me.

  “We’re adults? Is that why you’re treating me like a leper?”

  He exhales, his tight shoulders rolling.

  “You keep moving further and further away,” I add. “What are you afraid of?”

  Without hesitating, Derek flies toward me, holding his mouth inches from mine and causing my heart to leap into my throat.

  “I’m not afraid of anything, Serena. But I don’t want to hurt you. I’m keeping my distance right now.” The faded remnants of his morning cologne invade my lungs.

  “Hurt me?” I ask.

  “Women look at me, and they see one thing,” he says, his jaw clenched. “I do a couple of nice things, I try my hardest not to be a fucking asshole, and women see the kind of guy they think they can fall in love with. And marry. And I’m not that man. Not even close.”

  “Who said anything about marriage? I thought we were talking about a kiss.” I inhale his warm breath, tasting the sweet wine and imagining his velvet tongue pressed against mine. “Believe me, you’re not my type.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  His words sting, but I accept them. I earned them fair and square.

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find you extremely attractive,” I say. “Doesn’t mean I want to marry you. And I’m insulted that you file me into the same category as all those girls whose main goal in life is to rope in the first bachelor they see and steal his last name.”

  “I’m telling you, Serena, drop the conversation. I’m exhausted. I have to be at the office at seven tomorrow morning. I don’t have time to continue this wildly irresponsible discussion that I promise you is going nowhere.”

  I imagine him in a courtroom, all suited up, firing pointed questions one after another, his words finessed and strategic, his influence palpable.
My body warms from the center outward. The thought of him fighting the good fight, defending the defenseless, and righting wrongs makes me electric.

  Now I officially understand the appeal of superheroes. Men who do things for the greater good are sexy. Men who do good things and demonstrate a ridiculous amount of self-control when women are offering themselves up to him are even sexier.

  “Do we have an understanding?” He stares down his perfectly straight nose, and I study the way his features are nothing but proportional and symmetrical. It isn’t fair for my attorney to be so ridiculously attractive, all the while placing himself on a shelf just a hair out of reach.

  There’s a command in his voice that overrides the foolish notions swirling my mind, and I silently remind myself that I’m in his house. I’m his guest. I wasn’t raised to behave this way, especially not over a silly little kiss.

  “Guess it wasn’t meant to happen.” My voice is a soft whisper, and I sidestep him, heading to my room.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The kiss.” I stop, turning to face him, nothing but honesty in my intentions. “I was more curious than anything. Guess we’ll never know.”

  “It’s for the best. Believe me.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.” I face forward and step down the hall again, whispering under my breath, “I’d hurt you before you ever had a chance to hurt me anyway.”

  Chapter 13

  Derek

  “You’re up early.” I pour a mug of coffee as Serena tiptoes from her side of my apartment, red hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head and a hint of creamy skin peeking out from beneath her cotton pajama tank top. “Coffee?”

  She yawns, taking a barstool. “Please.”

  I pour her a cup, wondering how long we’re going to dance around what happened last night.

  “There you go.” I slide it across the island, and our eyes meet. There’s nothing there. No unspoken words. No threat of a rehashing of last evening’s topic of conversation.

  Good.

  My gaze lands on her pink lips, a self-punishing move. She notices. And I know better.