The Complete Rixton Falls Series

by Winter Renshaw

  Still, Serena says nothing, lifting the steaming mug to her mouth and watching me gather my things.

  “Sleep well?” I shove a stack of papers inside my messenger bag, followed by my laptop.

  “That bed is heavenly,” she says.

  I laugh. “That or you were really exhausted. What’s your plan today?”

  “Thought I’d look for a place,” she says. “Put that new laptop to good use.”

  “The Wi-Fi password is Haven2012.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “I’ll remember that. Any areas you recommend?”

  “Hershfield Park is great. So is Marigold Heights. Steer clear of Pilton Street and Main. Bad area.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’m picking up Haven tonight after work.” I hoist my bag over my shoulder and glance across the kitchen at an image of Serena bathed in morning sun, sitting comfortably at my kitchen island. Her tongue glides along her lips, licking fresh coffee, and she smiles. I think she’s doing it on purpose, but I can’t be sure. Like she said last night, I don’t know her. “I assume you’ll be itching to get out at that point. I can swing by and pick you up. It’s a two-hour drive.”

  Serena straightens her back and places the cup in front of her. “Oh, um. Sure. I’ll come along. If that’s okay with you.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay.” My response is rather curt, and I almost feel like an asshole.

  “What time?” Her voice is sweet, unassuming. Forgiving almost.

  Which makes me feel like an even bigger ass for brushing her off last night.

  But Goddamn it, she needs to believe me when I say I’m not what she needs.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the kiss. I was playing with fire, and I knew it. And I regretted it the instant the words left my lips, because it turns out that Serena Randall is just as much of an arsonist as I am.

  Regardless, the number Kyla did on me left deep scars that have yet to heal. The idea of marriage, of spending the rest of forever with one person, holds zero appeal to me. As far as I’m concerned, no one can be truly trusted, and everyone’s a fucking self-serving liar when the conditions are right.

  Frivolous emotions tend to dull common sense, and the bullshit feelings that some people call love tends to turn brilliant, headstrong men into bumbling idiots. I don’t see the point in love or marriage or anything that could steal a man’s God-given right to be happy.

  Maybe I used to. Not anymore.

  Now I just want to have fun.

  And my multimillionaire client is the last person I should be having any kind of “fun” with.

  “Come down at five. I’ll pick you up out front.” I pull the door closed behind me and get the hell out of there.

  Chapter 14

  Serena

  I knew it was a two-hour drive, but I never knew two hours could feel like an eternity.

  “You mind?” I point to the radio. Derek’s made us listen to coffeehouse rock since we left Rixton Falls, and I’m over it.

  “Go ahead.” His hands straddle the steering wheel and his eyes are focused on the road.

  “How was work?” I hate that I sound like a wife. It’s not intentional. I bet he hates it too. “Anything interesting happen?”

  His jaw tenses and flexes, and he shakes his head before sighing. “Just another day.”

  I decide that I don’t know this Derek. He’s grumpy and sullen and won’t engage in conversation with me, no matter how ridiculous the topic. I summarized an episode of Judge Judy for him twenty minutes ago, thinking it might capture the tiniest slice of his attention given his line of work. It was my first time watching that show, and I was completely captivated in a way I’d never been before.

  But I didn’t get so much as an eyebrow raise from him, just a gruff comment about how those shows are all fake.

  It’s tempting to ask if he’s in a bad mood, but I fear stating the obvious isn’t going to help the situation, so I avoid those words at all cost. I also avoid bringing up the whole ‘silent treatment’ and ‘anti-bullshit’ agreement I thought we had.

  I’ll just tuck that in my pocket for another day, because I’m a woman and that’s what we do. We save stuff for later, in case we need it sometime. And with men, we always end up cashing in that chip. They’re just as moody as we are, though they’ll never admit it in a million years.

  He takes an exit ramp off the interstate and veers toward a little suburban neighborhood with a fountain at the entrance and brand new houses masquerading as old. We pull up to a Victorian with a shiny black door and a white front porch, and the front door swings open.

  A sweet, chubby-cheeked angel with hair as white as snow runs down the front porch steps, nearly tripping, barreling toward Derek’s SUV. He climbs out, smiling for the first time all day, and sweeps her up in his arms. His arms dwarf her, and he wraps her up and swings her around. Her legs hang limp and her arms are tightly draped around his shoulders.

  From the doorway, a lean woman with a tan complexion and sandy blonde hair stands with folded arms, watching them. She doesn’t smile the way a mother might smile when she sees her child overwhelmingly happy. The woman only observes, her eyes dead and expressionless.

  Derek moves Haven to his hip and steps toward the front porch, where the woman holds out a packed duffle bag covered in glittery pink ponies. She drops it before he has a chance to reach for it.

  He scoops it up from the ground, shooting her a look when Haven can’t see.

  “Thanks,” he says.

  The woman’s gaze moves to the car, and I watch her expression fall when she sees me. The sound of her nagging voice trails in through the open windows, and she’s pointing, asking questions. Berating him for not telling her about me in advance.

  She pushes past Derek and makes a beeline for the open driver’s side window.

  “Hi.” Her smile is as fake as her breasts. “I’m Kyla. Haven’s mom. Derek’s ex-wife.”

  Obviously.

  “And you are?” she asks, her lashes batting sweetly.

  “I’m a friend of Derek’s,” I say. “A work friend.”

  “You’re an attorney?”

  “Not exactly.” I play it coy. Stay mum. I know how women like her work, and I’m not about to cause trouble for Derek after all he’s done for me.

  Derek stands behind her now, letting Haven slide down his leg before opening the rear passenger door and lifting her into her car seat.

  “Ms. Randall is a client of mine,” Derek says. “She’s staying with me temporarily until she finds a place of her own.”

  If jealousy could walk and talk, it’d look exactly like Kyla. Her eyes squint as her lips purse.

  “Derek, you need to okay this with me. I’m not exactly comfortable with my daughter staying in a home with someone I don’t know.” Kyla pulls on a diamond pendant around her neck before letting the stone get lost between her cleavage.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” His words are as dry as they are sarcastic. “You’ll get over it, I’m sure. You tend to get over most things quickly. You always were resilient.”

  Kyla scoffs, stepping backward into the lush grass. She’s barefoot, wearing nothing more than a skimpy tank top and short, white shorts, and I wonder if she always dresses this way when she knows she’s going to see her ex-husband.

  “We’ll be at the Carradine Lodge in Beeker Valley,” she says. “I wrote the number down and stuck it in Haven’s bag.”

  A quick glance toward the back tells me Haven’s not the least bit upset about leaving her mother’s house. She’s grinning ear to ear, her legs kicking the front of the car seat as she tells Derek we need to go.

  Our eyes meet. Hers are pure, ice blue. Pale and angelic. She stares, wide-eyed.

  “Bye, my angel!” Kyla kisses her fingertips and waves to Haven.

  Haven doesn’t notice. She’s only looking at me.

  Derek climbs inside. By the time we pull out of the driveway, Kyla’s stan
ding on her front steps, arms crossed and face twisted into a nasty scowl.

  “Don’t mind her,” Derek says under his breath. “She’s a bit of a lost soul.”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

  He glances into his rearview mirror at his giddy daughter, and I get it. He’s protecting her. His love for Haven is bigger than his hatred for his ex-wife.

  Derek Rosewood is a good man.

  “Daddy, who’s the pretty lady in the front seat?” Haven asks.

  “This is my friend, Serena,” he says. “She’s staying at our house for a little while. You’re going to share your bathroom with her, okay?”

  “Okay.” Haven grins, shrugging her shoulders and giggling.

  “Nice to meet you, Haven. Thank you for sharing your space with me,” I say. She blushes.

  “Daddy, I’m hungry!” Haven yells as soon as we hit the interstate.

  “You’re hungry?” He glances at her through the rearview mirror. “It’s seven o’clock. Didn’t your mother feed you dinner?”

  “No,” Haven says, yawning. “She said you were going to feed me. She was too busy packing.”

  Derek mutters something under his breath, shaking his head. His hands clench hard against the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

  “All right, baby,” he says. “We’ll get you some dinner.”

  Derek turns to me.

  “It’s totally fine,” I say.

  “It’s going to be a while before we get home.”

  “I know.” I reach across the console and pat his leg. “Derek, it’s fine. I’m just along for the ride. You do what you need to do.”

  His face is softer now, and he reminds me of the man I met earlier in the week. The serious yet kind man with the benevolent gaze.

  He reaches for the radio, tuning it to some Disney station that manages to elicit a delighted scream from the backseat.

  I settle in for the long drive, out of my element and kind of loving it.

  Chapter 15

  Derek

  “Your hair is really pretty. Like Ariel.”

  I stand outside Haven’s door, where Serena is perched on the side of my daughter’s bed, reading her Green Eggs and Ham before bedtime. Peeking in, I watch Haven run her fingers through Serena’s silky red waves.

  Serena sets the book in her lap and smiles. “Thank you, Haven. You have really pretty hair too.”

  Over the last three hours, the two of them have become fast friends, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen Haven so enamored with anyone. Not even her own mother. Or her doting aunties.

  Haven grins, pressing her cheek against Serena’s arm. “My mommy says pretty hair is important.”

  Serena’s brows lift, and she wastes no time responding. “There are many things that are more important than pretty hair.”

  “Like what?” my daughter asks.

  “Like a pretty heart.”

  “What does a pretty heart look like? Is it pink?”

  “A pretty heart doesn’t look like anything.” Serena places her arm around Haven and gives her a squeeze. “A pretty heart means you’re a nice girl. It means you help others. And you’re kind. And thoughtful.”

  “Oh.” Haven yawns, sinking down under the covers. “I want a pretty heart.”

  Serena climbs off the bed and pulls the covers up to Haven’s chin. “If you want a pretty heart, all you have to do is be kind.”

  “You have a pretty heart, Serena.”

  Serena smiles. “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to be four in two weeks,” Haven states proudly. “Will you come to my party?”

  “Oh?” Serena is caught off-guard. “I’d love to. We can talk to your daddy about it in the morning, okay?”

  Haven rolls over, tucking a stuffed bunny under her arm. “Good night, Serena.”

  “Goodnight, sweetie.”

  Serena jumps, clutching her chest when she tiptoes out of Haven’s room. Shutting the door behind her, she leans in.

  “Where you watching us?” she whispers.

  “Of course. And it was fucking adorable. You’re good with her.”

  Serena lifts her delicate fingers to her collarbone and fights a pleased smile. “Thank you, but I wasn’t trying to impress you. For the record.”

  Right.

  We walk down the hall side by side, Serena sauntering and stretching her arms overhead. All night long, Haven fired question after question at Serena. Wanted to sit by Serena. Talk to her about ponies and Barbies. They were two peas in a very odd little pod, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me look at this spoiled American princess in a completely new light.

  “Do you like kids?” I ask when we reach the kitchen.

  “That’s a random question. And yes.” She grabs her bag and pulls out her phone. “I keep forgetting I can actually use this thing now.”

  I rifle through this morning’s mail, tearing through junk and bills and sorting and stacking.

  “Five missed calls.” Her nails click on the screen in quick succession. “And three voicemails . . . all from Eudora.”

  I glance up, watching her expression morph and fade as she listens to the messages. After a minute, she hangs up and places her phone screen-side down on the counter.

  “Well.” She clears her throat. “Eudora was placed on unpaid leave today.”

  “For what?” I never particularly cared for that old bag, but I hate to hear about anyone potentially losing their job.

  “Apparently, Veronica stopped by Belcourt with Dr. Rothbart and was none too pleased about me having moved out.” Serena folds her arms, squinting ahead. “I’ll have to call Eudora tomorrow and see if I can get more out of her.”

  “There’s nothing in the court filings that say you’re required to live at Belcourt.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not Eudora’s fault that you left.”

  “I think Veronica expected Eudora to have more control over me.” Serena runs a palm along the cool, marble counter. “And she kind of did. Until I stopped taking my meds.”

  “When did you stop?”

  “A week ago.” Her bold blue eyes lift. “I couldn’t go another day sucking down unnecessary prescriptions. I was so out of it, Derek. All I did was sleep. I was constantly exhausted. And numb. And out of it. I’m sure those drugs are wonderful for people who need them, but they really messed me up. The ridiculous thing is, I believed I needed them at first. I just wanted to stop feeling everything for a while . . .”

  “Did Dr. Rothbart prescribe those?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s the one you suspect is on Veronica’s payroll?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I push my mail to the side and lean in from across the island. “First thing tomorrow, we’re making you an appointment to see a doctor in Rixton Falls. Once you’re given the all-clear, I’m petitioning for a termination of the conservatorship.”

  Serena’s pink lips inch up, her expression illuminated. “Really?”

  “You’re clearly of sound mind. No one can deny that.”

  “So just like that, it’ll all be over? What about Veronica? And the lies?”

  “That’s a separate issue entirely. For now, let’s focus on dissolving the conservatorship. It’s completely unnecessary, in my opinion, and it was nothing more than a ploy of Veronica’s that backfired.”

  “True. The only reason she petitioned the court in the first place was so she could have control over my finances.” Serena sweeps her red locks off her neck, gathering them in her hands and pulling them over her shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, Derek. I appreciate everything you’re doing. I don’t know that any other attorney would’ve gone above and beyond for me like you have.” She rises from her perch on the barstool.

  “Going to bed?”

  “I am.”

  “Are you tired?”

  “Not really.”

  “Me neither.” My throat is dry, constricted.
I know what I’m doing. I know where this leads. And I sure as fuck know better. “You want a drink? I’m about to have a beer, and I wouldn’t want you thinking I have a problem if I’m drinking alone.”

  “Hmm. Manipulative.”

  “Persuasive.” I give her a half-smirk.

  “Same difference.”

  “Apples and oranges.”

  Our gazes lock from across the island, and she sighs.

  “Fine. Give me a beer.” Serena holds her hand out, and I grab a green bottle from the fridge behind me, uncapping it on the edge of the counter before handing it over.

  I take one for myself and nod toward the living room. I have to admit, it hasn’t been entirely tortuous to have company around here lately. A man can grow tired of nothing but the sound of his own thoughts echoing around an empty bachelor pad day in and day out.

  “I’d never had a drop of alcohol until I turned twenty-one.” Serena takes a swig of beer, gracefully lifting and lowering the bottle.

  “You never broke into your father’s liquor cabinet as a rebellious teenager?”

  “Ha. I never had the privilege of enjoying those rebellious teenage years.” Her palm slides down the neck of her bottle. “I attended an all girls boarding school until my senior year in high school, and I attended Wellesley after that. I didn’t have time to do anything rebellious until I was a grown adult living on my own, and then where’s the fun in that? Pathetic, huh?”

  “Not pathetic at all.” I fold a leg wide across the other, angling myself toward her, quickly finding myself lost in a state of fascination. “You’re a rarity. You know that, right?”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it.” She smiles.

  “I wish I could protect Haven like that. Shelter her. Keep her focused on school and away from trouble.” I take a drink. “It’s a father’s dream come true.”

  Serena shakes her head. “It’s the worst thing you could do for her. Believe me. Shelter her too much, and she’ll wind up making bad decisions because she won’t have enough past mistakes to guide her in the right direction.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  Her eyes close, reopening slowly. “Unfortunately, and the last mistake was the biggest one of them all.”