The Neighbor's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance #1)

by Kimberley Montpetit

  “I’m not proposing anything at the moment, but I am going for a walk.”

  Her mother finished clearing the table and gave her a quick smile as though Allie had merely had a fight with Marla when they were thirteen. “The fresh air will do you good.”

  Allie threw the front door closed and stomped down the porch, feeling the house shudder. Could her mother be any more patronizing? As if a round of fresh air walking the block would make everything better.

  If she stayed in the house, she’d end up slashing the curtains, or kicking the dog.

  It was only seven o’clock so Allie had a good two hours before the sun set. She found herself walking fast, and then running along the asphalt into the older part of Heartland. There were no concrete sidewalks like Toronto, only gravel along the pavement, older homes set back off the road.

  After an hour, Allie’s thighs began to ache. Despite wearing heels every day to work and walking several blocks to the Go Train.

  The sun sank lower, reflecting gold across the river. Thick trees curved around her, as if they were sheltering her. Self-doubts tortured her mind all night, which was why she was tired and ornery. Not sleeping well did nothing for your mood, temperament, or looks.

  Why had Sean done this to her? Was there another woman? Someone he didn’t have the guts to admit to Allie about?

  Self-doubt was one thing, but suspecting he was having an affair made Allie want to fall to the earth in a huge, messy heap.

  Pausing, Allie studied the ground, weirdly tempted to just sit down. She was getting tired and by now she was actually more than two miles from home. She’d also forgotten her phone when she stomped out of the house.

  If she could have called the house, Dad would have rescued her in a heartbeat—and bought her ice cream on the way home.

  Oh, to be young again without all these life-altering issues.

  When Allie raised her head again, she noticed lights flickering through the trees just off the road to her right. Someone had just turned on their porch light.

  That’s when she saw the “For Rent” sign next door.

  Excitement surged through her. She could rent her own little place. It would give her a chance to escape her claustrophobic family life. To be independent again. To mourn and cry and throw things if she wanted to—and hopefully, heal the emptiness in her heart.

  Allie trudged up the pathway to the old Victorian house. Shades were drawn across the first floor windows—and the second story—but the porch light glowed bright like a beacon.

  Somebody clearly liked their privacy.

  The house had probably been built more than a hundred years ago. If it had plumbing problems they wouldn’t be her concern if she was only renting. Allie had a little savings, enough for the leave of absence her boss had insisted on, and the thought of having her own place was enough to make her exhilarated.

  A house she could decorate. A little house of her own to distract her, at least for a month or so.

  Allie crossed her fingers, while she walked up the stone path, overgrown with weeds, to the porch. “Please don’t insist on a year lease,” she pleaded out loud.

  The knot in her chest loosened when she saw the porch swing. Allie slid her palm across the chain link that anchored the swing to the eaves. She could already imagine herself sitting here in the evening reading a novel.

  A scattering of leaves rattled across the wooden porch slats while a light breeze ruffled the surrounding trees enclosing the property.

  The house definitely needed a paint job. And weeding and raking. Maybe she could work out a deal with the owner.

  There was a decorative knocker on the front door and Allie lifted it and let the tarnished brass ring rap against the plate four times.

  While she waited, she turned back toward the road, observing that the nearest neighbor was about three acres to the west. Their lights blazed in the windows beyond the fence lines.

  When nobody answered, Allie knocked again, louder this time. The wind picked up, skittering a pile of dry brown leaves left un-raked from the previous autumn.

  It finally dawned on her that the house might not currently be inhabited.

  Cupping her hands against the front windows, she tried to peer past the curtains. No light seeped through.

  Trying the knocker one last time, Allie moved off the porch and looked into the side windows. Not a smidgen of light.

  “Okay, either nobody is home because they’re out gallivanting in the night life of Heartland Cove—not—or the house is empty.”

  Back in the front yard, Allie memorized the handwritten phone number on the sign.

  The streets were darkening by the time Allie reached home, streetlights popping on one by one.

  When she entered the house, her parents were watching one of their evening dramas on the television in the den.

  “Allie, that you?” her father called.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Darling, come here,” her mother called next and Allie heard the television paused and muted when she entered the room.

  “I’m going to bed, I’m beat. And I need a shower after all that fry slinging.”

  Her mother gazed at her as if trying to read her mind. “Are you alright, Allie? You were gone a long time.”

  “I’m perfectly fine. Just exhausted.”

  “If you say so.” Mrs. Strickland was never convinced.

  “Goodnight, sweetie,” her dad said, allowing her to slip out when he raised the volume again. “See you bright and early.”

  Once she was in her room, Allie dialed the phone number to the Victorian. It rang three times before a voice mail message—a woman—came on. “You’ve reached the offices of Heartland Realtors. Please leave your name, phone number and a brief message and we’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

  Allie was jubilant. The house was unoccupied and represented by a rental company. Quickly, she left a message and then jumped in the shower, feeling optimistic for the first time since Saturday’s betrayal.

  “Fingers crossed the house is furnished,” she said aloud.

  Using a sleeping bag for the rest of the summer wasn’t exactly enticing. Or eating off paper plates.

  Or having no movie channel to help put her to sleep so she could stop moping over Sean—and throwing darts at his face on her virtual dart board.

  Chapter 5

  By the next evening, Allie was hauling her suitcases and boxes into the Victorian. The house had been empty for the past year and was happily rented by the time Allie departed Heartland Realtors during her lunch hour.

  Viola Stark explained that the owner hoped to return sometime in the next year and refurbish the place. To either sell it or to live in it again.

  “Perfect,” Allie told her. “I only want it for the summer.”

  After signing the contract and handing over a cheque for the deposit and first month’s rent, Viola said she could move in anytime.

  “And yes, it’s furnished,” she said to Allie’s question. “No guarantees on the state of the interior so bring your mop and bucket.”

  “Am I allowed to plant flowers or clean up the yard?”

  “Good grief, yes! We’re short-staffed this summer and I certainly don’t have time or inclination to keep up with every one of my properties. It’s all I can do to keep the roof from falling in and the plumbing working.”

  On that encouraging note, Allie had returned to the Fry Shack, a jump of excitement in her stomach and a bigger smile on her face than she’d had in days.

  Marla helped her move, boxing up the few pictures and books and alarm clock she’d brought from Toronto. Everything else had been ready to go into Sean’s apartment, but was quickly routed to a storage unit. It felt strange to Allie to have all of her furniture and personal belongings so far away.

  Her mother was not happy about her decision to move out of the family home. “I’d hoped to have you all to myself this summer,” she said forlornly when the final tour bus roared
out of town belching black smoke.

  “At least for a little while,” she added while Allie packed the last of her clothes back into her suitcases.

  And then when she was loading her car, “But you barely got home. Don’t I get you for more than three days after all the drama and tragedy?”

  Allie zipped up her second suitcase with a snap. “Mother, there wasn’t a tragedy. Nobody died.”

  “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “I do. And I have to do this. It’s been too long that I’ve been on my own. I’m going to scream if I stay here.”

  Her mother’s face fell into pockets of hurt. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about us.”

  “Don’t pull a guilt trip. I’ll see you every single day at the family business, remember?”

  Mrs. Strickland slowly nodded. “Well, I guess there’s that.”

  Allie’s father said, “I’ll come over on Saturday and help you mow the weeds.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” she told him, kissing his cheek.

  And, Mom,” Allie added when she was walking out the door to the car. “I wasn’t supposed to be home this summer at all. I was supposed to be married. On my honeymoon. Unpacking wedding silver and matching monogrammed towels in my new home.”

  The door closed behind her and Marla said, “Ouch. That was blunt.”

  “Did I come on too strong?” Allie felt a twinge of guilt.

  Marla popped the trunk. “Sometimes parents need to hear it straight and uncensored. And, actually, everything you said was true.”

  “I’ll be awake all night wondering if my mother is crying into her pillow,” Allie said as they drove the two miles to the Victorian house and she stopped the engine.

  “Stop with the guilt,” Marla ordered. “You’re five minutes from home.” She opened the passenger door and shaded her eyes against the setting sun. “This is one amazing house, Allie. I’m jealous.”

  “You can visit anytime. We’ll do a sleepover.”

  Marla laughed. “I’ll bring the popcorn and movies.”

  The rest of the evening was spent hanging clothes, filling drawers, and putting fresh sheets on the master bedroom mattress that was in surprisingly good shape.

  The furniture placed in each room was all Victorian reproductions. Allie loved it, allowing a feeling of euphoria to overshadow all the hurt that had weighed her down like a stone hanging around her neck.

  “Want to get dinner?” Marla asked after she’d poked into every nook and cranny.

  There were three bedrooms upstairs, two full modern bathrooms, a parlor and sitting room and a guest suite downstairs with a modern kitchen.

  French doors opened onto a patio and a tangled backyard full of overgrown shrubs and neglected rose bushes.

  Allie stifled a yawn. “After being on my feet all day I’m dying for a shower, and then bed. Rain check for Friday night? And is there somewhere exciting within a two hour drive? I’m in serious need of drowning my sorrows for a night.”

  “I hear they have live music during the summer months over in Fredericton.”

  “That’s a new one. Guess I’ve been way from home longer than I thought.”

  “Yeah,” Marla said, going quiet. Her face was thoughtful. “You have.”

  Allie reached out to embrace her. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Fiancés and weddings will do that to a girl.”

  Allie tried not to think about that. She had her own place, her own space, her own life back—even if it was baby steps. “Okay, my BFF, I’m going to wander my new house, touch all the furniture, make a cup of tea, and then take a long soaking bath.”

  “Ditto for me—except the house part.” With a grin, Marla waggled her fingers and opened the front door.

  Allie stood on the porch to see her off, waving as Marla’s teenaged brother sped down the road after coming to pick her up.

  Before she forgot, Allie fished the car keys out of her pocket and hit the lock button to her own vehicle. It gave a brief beep and then she climbed the three stairs back inside—but not before pulling down the For Rent sign sitting in the window.

  Perhaps she’d bribe Erin to weed for a few hours. That would help the house look occupied.

  After closing the front door, Allie pressed her back against it with a happy sigh. Her very own house. Not an apartment—a house with a porch and a backyard—a backyard that even had a fountain, if she could get the clogged pipes cleaned out.

  Viola Stark had sent over a cleaning woman while Allie had been at work and the cherry wood tables and upholstery arms glowed, the air smelling faintly of lemon polish. Not a speck of dust anywhere, including freshly vacuumed rugs and a bathroom that was pristine, despite faded curtains with daffodils.

  Allie prepared a steaming cup of orange blossom tea and took it upstairs with her, securing the doors and turning out the lights on her way up.

  Once upstairs, she kicked off her shoes and started the bath, squirting a stream of bubble soap under the pounding faucet. Cool air wafted through one of the side windows of the master suite, making her skin prickle, but the freshness revived her after such a long day.

  She closed the bathroom door, stripped off her sweat-stained greasy clothes, and stepped into the water, muscles immediately relaxing as she leaned back against the porcelain.

  Once she finished drinking the tea, Allie’s eyes closed. Her thoughts grew heavy. Images of the past several days insisted on rolling across her mind; the wedding guests’ shocked faces, whispering behind their hands. Sobbing into her pillow that night.

  Then the phone calls to her boss, hiring a moving van to put her things into storage, driving back home with her packed car. Arguments, recriminations, and swollen eyes while her mother hovered, dying to pick her brain.

  Even if it was only temporary, this house was a sudden respite. A blessing. A refuge. A place to heal, alone.

  Allie was almost asleep, the water cooling, one arm dangling off the edge of the tub. She told herself she needed to go to bed but was too lazy to actually reach for her robe lying in a heap on the floor beside the bath.

  Her mind drifted, spinning with a hundred thoughts about how to get her revenge on Sean when the door to the bathroom swung open, banging against the wall.

  A man burst inside and Allie’s eyes flew open. His presence filled the tiny room, his body tall and muscular and looming. A shriek rose from her throat and then she began to scream. “Who the hell are you? Get out! Get out!”

  Her arm flung outward as she reached for her robe. The towel was too far away and when she half rose to retrieve the towel she remembered that, of course, she was naked, bubbles clinging to her breasts and thighs.

  Allie grabbed at the shower curtain to wrap around herself, legs shaking, at the same time the curtain smacked against the teacup which flew off the edge of the tub and smashed against the wall in a dozen pieces.

  “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out of my house or I’ll call the police! You pervert! If you come any closer, I swear I will kill you!”

  The man reared back, as if shocked by her words. Then he said, “Who the hell are you?”

  “How dare you barge into my house—into my bathroom—” her voice broke off while she gulped air, wondering how she was going to get past him to call the police. “Are you some kind of freaking felon? Are you going to attack me?”

  The strange man gazed about the bathing area, taking in the smashed teacup as well as the piles of makeup and hair products strewn across the countertop like he’d accidentally stumbled into a beauty shop.

  He lifted his dark brown eyes and held up his hands as if to ward off a flying curling iron. “Attack you? Are you nuts?”

  Recognition suddenly dawned, and Allie’s knees almost gave out as she realized who he was. She sputtered, “You!”

  The man sucked in a sudden breath, leaning forward to stare into her face. “You!” he flung back at her.

  “You’re that—that—” Allie couldn’t even finish a coherent
sentence.

  This man—this intruder—was the guy from the fry shack. The last customer from yesterday. The guy who’d flirted with her over a bag of stupid seasoned fries.

  Chapter 6

  “What are you doing in my house?” she yelped again. “What are you still doing in Heartland Cove? You took the tourist bus! Are you stalking women? Are you an escaped felon?” She moaned at the last one, biting her lip d tasting blood.

  Allie’s mind ran through the myriad of horrible possibilities. Why did she leave her mobile in the bedroom? “Oh, dear God, help me,” she whimpered, moving as far away from him as she could, the plastic shower curtain wrapped around her torso as her last means of protection.

  She had no weapon, and if she moved toward the counter to grab something he’d have her down on the floor before she could take another breath.

  “I never left town,” he said. Confusion ran across his features as he took in the array of her belongings all over the master suite, his head swiveling back and forth between the makeup products on the counter and her open suitcases in the bedroom.

  He obviously didn’t expect her to be here. He was obviously completely psycho nuts. He obviously had purposely hid from the tourist bus and stayed in Heartland Cove for a nefarious reason.

  “You just proved my point.” Allie willed herself not to faint. “Now get out of my bathroom!”

  “Right. Sorry,” he stuttered. “Actually, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t expect—”

  “GET OUT!”

  Her screech finally moved him to action. After stumbling back through the door, he slammed it closed.

  “LOCK IT!”

  A male hand came around the edge of the door and punched the button on the door handle, and then shut it again. Allie stared as the knob rattled back and forth to prove that it was locked.

  The bathroom went dead quiet. Only the rippling sound of the bath water broke the silence.

  Slowly, Allie pushed aside the clammy curtain and scooped up a towel from the floor. Inch by inch, she wrapped it around her naked body, staring death at the door, terrified it would suddenly open again and he would grab her and throw her on the floor.