“Why didn’t he leave anything for you? Surely he could have put some things, some pictures, away for you without having them close as a reminder. He had to know you’d be curious someday and want to know who your mother was.”
“Maybe he thought I wouldn’t get curious, or want those things, since I never knew her. Most likely, it was probably more like he wasn’t thinking of me at all when he threw it all away. I’m not sure what he was like before losing my mother, but the father I grew up with was cold, distant, and rarely around. The nanny mostly raised me. He threw himself into work after her death, but I heard him muttering once about how much I look like her, so I’m sure that had something to do with how rarely I saw him.”
“She must have been very beautiful, then,” he said, eyes warm with sympathy and appreciation as he ran his gaze over her face.
Clearing her throat and feeling blood warming her cheeks, she murmured, “Yes, well. Thank you. What about your parents? Are they still alive?”
He stiffened and looked away, not meeting her gaze. “I don’t know, but I’m sure they are. But that’s a story for another time.”
Wondering about his reaction, and the way his eyes shuttered before he looked away, she opened her mouth to reply, but paused when the oven timer went off. Practically hearing him think saved by the bell, she grabbed her wine glass and stood.
“I need to get the lasagna out of the oven. You’re welcome to join me. I’m going to put the garlic bread in and toss a salad while it cools.”
Seth stood slowly and followed Amelia into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island after she declined his offer to help. Guilt needled him, but he tried to push it away. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to talk about the past. Yeah, that was a large part of it. Not even the fighters knew the whole story. But he found, to his surprise, that he kind of wanted to tell Amelia, something he never thought he’d see happening.
The main problem was it revolved around his shifter status, which she didn’t know about. There was no way he could just blurt out that he was kidnapped when he was a young child by a rival clan, and held hostage. That when he was finally returned home, even though it wasn’t his fault, his abduction tainted him in the eyes of not only his clan, but his family. That after being shunned and ostracized for years, he set out on his own as soon as he was old enough to take care of himself.
No, there was absolutely no way of explaining any of that to her, especially without telling her about his cat. She would be horrified, and rightly so, even if she knew about his dual nature. Humans didn’t understand shifter cultures, not unless they were educated in their ways. And even then, she probably wouldn’t. Hell, he was born to it and lived it for years, and he didn’t understand most days. Different cultures had different customs, and those of the clan of his birth were borderline horrific, and they were strict, hard and fast rules. There were no exceptions, even for a family as prominent as his. Maybe more so because they were revered and looked up to in his community, so they had to follow the rules to the letter.
But even knowing that, the guilt he felt was still threatening to quickly overshadow the evening. She was being open and honest with him tonight, opening up about a painful part of her past. She might not have come out and said it, but her gorgeous hazel eyes showed her hurt and sadness.
The way she was so honest was refreshing. She was an open book. Her every reaction was sincere. Shifters could hear lies. She never once spoke with anything but the truth, and she had no reason to be so honest about everything. He’d been around enough humans to know they lied, a lot. Most of the time it wasn’t malicious, just little white lies, and a lot of times it wasn’t even for their benefit. It was to spare someone else’s feelings.
Amelia didn’t do that, and she wasn’t aware of his ability to hear a lie, so it wasn’t deliberate. Hell, even when she did start to fib, she quickly corrected herself and told the truth. Her honesty was one of his favorite things about her.
And that made him withholding the truth from her even worse. Not just his shitty past, but what he truly was. In all his worrying about how this would end, whether she could get past his flaws, he hadn’t thought once about how he was going to tell her he was a leopard shifter, or whether she could accept it.
She could flip her shit and run back to England as fast as she possibly could. Or the scientist in her would make her hesitate long enough to ask questions, giving him the chance to explain everything and tell her how he felt about her. He was betting on the latter. He’d seen numerous glimpses of her curious mind, her insatiable thirst to always know more, even with small things. She didn’t hide that part of herself well. Really, she didn’t hide anything, and the thought just made him feel worse.
Despite everything he had to tell her, he still thought none of that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. He lacked a high school diploma, and she was twenty-five and already had a PhD. She was technically a doctor, and there he was, two years older, with nothing to show for his life. He thought that would be the hurdle she might not be able to get past.
See, she can accept me. It’s you who’ll cause us to lose her.
Shut the fuck up, pompous flea bag.
Laughing inwardly as his cat hissed, Seth smirked a bit over his juvenile insult. For once, a little exchange with his animal brought some of his good mood back, but he could feel the worry at the edge of his mind, waiting to pounce.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asked, watching as she poured some kind of clear dressing over the salad. “I can set the table, if nothing else.”
Shooting him a warm smile, she nodded. “Yeah, that would be great. Plates are in the cabinet there, and glasses are next to it. Silverware is in the drawer next to the sink.”
Thankful she was letting him do something, and needing a distraction from his thoughts, he jumped up and hurried to get everything on the table.
“There’s a trivet in that drawer over there,” she said with a nod as she took the garlic bread out of the oven.
“What the hell is a trivet?” he asked, frowning.
She gave a light laugh. “I always forget most people don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s a pad that you put hot dishes on. It protects the table from the heat of the dishes. Although there’s not much you could do to make that old table look worse,” she said, brows twitching as she shot a look at the old table.
Seth got the pad out and put it in the middle of the table, studying the table as he did. It was clean, but he could see old stains, scuff marks, and gouges all over it, and the chairs were no better. And there were only three, so one must have broken at some point.
Walking back to grab the lasagna, he set it on the trivet, mind racing. He had a table he was working on back at Rocky River. He’d planned to sell it at the general store in town, but he could give it to Amelia instead. He was planning on making two chairs and a bench for seating, and if he was giving it to her, he wanted to add some embellishments, carvings, make it beautiful for her. But making something beautiful out of wood was his gift, and it would take no time at all.
She was planning on leaving, but he had every intention of changing her mind. Even if the worst happened, and she went back to England, she’d still be here for a while, and she deserved to have something beautiful to eat her meals on while she was here.
“I know it looks pretty bad,” she said, walking up beside him with the salad and plate of garlic bread. “But I promise, it’s clean.”
“No, I can see that. I wasn’t worried about it. I was just thinking about something,” he replied, pulling out her chair for her before grabbing their drinks and bringing them to the table. He quickly topped off her wine before he took his own seat.
“Dig in,” she said, gesturing for him to take some lasagna while she dished salad into their bowls.
They were quiet for a little bit while they ate, and he used the silence to look around him. He hadn’t paid much attention the last time he was here, but no
w that he was really seeing his surroundings, he realized that old man Anderson had let the place get kind of run down.
“Why didn’t Anderson fix this place up? He was bringing in pretty good money.”
Brow twitching, she shook her head. “Uncle Jerry never had any money. The ranch stopped being profitable years ago, and he sunk too much money into trying to make it profitable again. About five years ago, he sold off all the livestock and equipment so he could pay off the mortgage, with a little left over for the bills and groceries and such.”
Frowning, Seth put down the bread he’d been about to take a bite of. “Amelia, no. I don’t know how much he had before he started hosting the fights, but he made a pretty big profit from them over the years. Especially after me and the guys started fighting for him, because we draw in bigger crowds.”
“Didn’t he use the admission money to pay the winners, though?”
“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I mean, he paid us a cut, and it was always a good one, but he kept the majority for himself.”
“Well, bugger, I didn’t know that. I used all the proceeds from the last fight to pay you all.”
Seth threw his head back with a laugh. “I was wondering why my payday was so much larger than usual last Saturday.”
She shook her head as she laughed along with him. “If he was making as much as you say off the fights, I wonder what in the world he did with all the money. He had hardly any money in the bank, and what was there matched up with what he would have left after selling everything, minus the bills, of course.”
“Maybe he hid it around the house or something,” he said with a shrug.
“Maybe. I’ve gone through the house since I’ve been here, but I only poked my head in the master bedroom once. Perhaps it’s in there. Want to help me look when we’re done eating?”
“Yeah, sure. Have I told you how good this is yet? It’s amazing.”
Flushing, she smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
They fell silent after that, concentrating on eating. He meant every word of his compliment. This was the best meal he’d had in a long time, maybe ever. He even liked the salad. He’d never been a big fan of salad, but whatever dressing she put on it was delicious, and made all the difference.
“That really was delicious,” he said, putting his fork down.
“Do you want some more?” she asked, pushing her own plate back and taking a sip of wine.
“No, thank you. I already had two huge slices of lasagna, not to mention the salad and garlic bread. I’m stuffed.”
“There’s some chocolate chip cookies, as well. I got them from Mansfield’s. I remembered how much you like them.”
Groaning, he said regretfully, “If I thought I could fit even one more bite in my stomach, I’d be all over it. Maybe later?”
“Of course. Whenever you like,” she said with a smile, pushing back from the table.
Putting his hand over hers as she reached for her plate, he stopped her, not saying anything for a moment as he enjoyed the warmth when they touched. He finally spoke when his leopard started purring in his chest, not wanting her to hear it.
“You cooked this amazing meal. Let me do the clean up.”
A smile crept across her face as her eyes warmed. “Okay. I’ll get all the leftovers put away.”
He nodded, grabbing his plate and bowl and moving to her side of the table to get hers. Stopping her as she made to move out of his way, he reeled her in with his spare hand, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Pulling away, he smiled at the hazy look in her eyes, and finished gathering up the dirty dishes.
She finished putting the leftovers away and joined him, rinsing while he washed. They made quick work of it, and when everything was clean, except for the lasagna pan, she stopped him.
“Just put some soap in it and add hot water. It needs to soak before it can be washed.”
Nodding, he did as she told him, then quickly rinsed and dried his hands. “You ready to check your uncle’s bedroom?”
“Sure, let’s go. This feels like we’re on the hunt for treasure,” she said, leading him to Anderson’s bedroom.
“I mean, we basically are,” he said with a smile, following her into the room.
“It feels weird being in here, but I suppose I would have had to come in eventually.” She looked around the room with a grimace. “I should have come in here sooner. This place is a mess. All of this needs sorted through, and anything that’s in good shape should be donated to charity.”
“You don’t want to keep anything?” he asked, gazing around the dusty room.
“No, not really. I didn’t know Jerry well. We spoke on the phone on holidays, but we weren’t close. I barely knew him. I hadn’t even seen him since I was five when my father brought me to visit.”
Nodding, he said, “I’ll help you when you’re ready to go through his things and box them up. Do you want to take the drawers while I take the closet?”
“Sounds like a plan,” she replied, moving toward one of the dressers.
He opened the closet door, finding a spacious walk-in. There were several pairs of boots and one pair of old, dusty loafers lined up on the floor, but there weren’t many clothes hanging up. Only one suit, a few dress shirts, and a pair of khakis. All nicer clothes than he ever saw Anderson wear when he was alive. But there were a couple boxes in the corner that looked promising, and he headed toward them.
A few minutes later, he was exhaling in defeat as he closed the last box and stood up. There were no hidden piles of money in the boxes. Mostly just old paperwork—old receipts and bills of sale from back when this was an operational ranch, things like that. Turning to help Amelia in the bedroom, he paused when his eyes fell on a small box shoved deep into the corner of the top shelf, excitement filling him.
Reaching up, he grabbed the old metal box and pulled it off the shelf. He pried the lid open and froze. It definitely wasn’t the money. The box was full of old pictures, and right on top was a woman who looked like she could be a slightly older version of Amelia. Gently removing it, he stared at it for a moment, registering the minute differences. Eyes just a touch narrower, nose a hair bigger, and lips not quite as full.
The differences were small enough that not many would notice, and it hit him then that this was Amelia’s mother. He flipped it over, reading the back. Charmaine Anderson 1992. Quickly doing the math, he realized this was taken the year Amelia was born. He put the picture down and quickly shuffled through the others, finding several more, ranging from her parents’ wedding to her birth, and Amelia’s two birthdays before her mother passed. Amelia thought she didn’t have any photos of her mother, would never know what she looked like, and there had been a handful of them here with her uncle all along.
Spotting paper yellowed with age, he dug a little deeper and pulled out an envelope with Amelia’s name. He didn’t open it to find out, but he wondered if it was from her mother. From what he understood, Jerry Anderson had never married, and there weren’t any other women in her life that he knew of.
He tucked the letter back in the box, and holding it tightly, he walked back into the room, smiling when she sneezed. It was the cutest sound, and he realized then just how far gone he already was if he was thinking her sneezes were cute.
“The dust in here is unreal,” she said with a smile that was part grimace. “I really need to clean it soon.”
“Hey,” he said, sitting on the bed and wincing at the lumpy mattress. “Come sit here by me.”
Glancing over, she stared at the box in his hands as she walked to sit beside him. “Did you find it?”
“I found something better,” he said, handing her the box.
“What could be better than unexpected cash?” she asked with a smile, glancing down into the box. She froze and then reached into it, picking up a picture with trembling fingers. “Is this who I think it is?”
“She looks just like you, so I think so.
Was your mother’s name Charmaine?”
“Yes,” she replied in a whisper so soft, he didn’t think he would have heard if it he wasn’t a shifter.
“She was beautiful. There are several more underneath that. It seems like your uncle hid a few away where your father couldn’t get to them.”
She looked at them in silence for a moment before turning to him with teary eyes. “Thank you for finding these for me, Seth. Thank you so much.”
Shaking his head, he put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “You would have found them sooner or later.” Letting go of her hand, he reached into the box and pulled out the letter, handing it to her. “This is addressed to you.”
She took it with trembling fingers, and a few tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s in a box with my mother’s pictures. Do you think… maybe it’s from her?”
“I’m not sure, but I think there’s probably a good possibility,” he said softly, the sight of her tears hitting him like a fist to the gut.
“You were right. This is so much better than finding money,” she said with a shaky laugh.
With a brief frown as he shifted on the lumpy mattress, he said, “I’ll get out of here so you can have privacy while you read that. We’ll look for the money some other time. It might not even be in here.”
“Thank you for coming over, Seth. And not just because you found this,” she said while holding the letter up. “I had a great time tonight.”
“So did I,” he murmured, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips. It was brief, but still enough to get his heart racing and his leopard perking up. He eased away and winced as the hard lump underneath him dug into his ass. “This is the most uncomfortable mattress on the planet. I don’t know how your uncle slept in it, with all these lumps.”
Fighting for Keeps Page 8