She was such an idiot. Thinking that Matt was some naive Farm Boy when he'd known all along who she was.
She'd believed in the innocent relationship blossoming between them. Or maybe she'd just wanted to believe.
Was she so lonely that she'd latched onto him and ignored the warning signs that he wasn't as perfect as she'd believed him to be?
The worst part was that she understood why he'd done it. The relationship he'd described with his mother was so beyond dysfunctional, she’d need another word to describe it. And then she’d seen it firsthand. He didn't even have a bed—much less a bedroom—for himself. She'd been so far inside her head that she hadn't reacted at the time, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it all day.
He was stuck in a difficult situation. Could she really blame him for doing whatever it took to get out—even if it meant using her?
She didn't know.
Nicholas was supposed to be the steady one, the one with his head on straight. But he’d just jilted his bride at the altar. Wilder, who’d shot looks at her all morning for her bad behavior, was now trying to comfort Mom after what Nicholas had done. The whole world was upside down.
Shelby didn't know anything anymore.
The old Shelby might've gone to Wilder for advice, but not now. He was busy with Mom and the hunt for Nick, but even if he were free, she couldn't talk to him. Not with how things had become between them. He'd been right last year—her judgment sucked. She was too ashamed to face him again.
The entire situation was a mess.
She was a mess.
She blinked, forcing her eyes to focus on the wedding guests. She needed a distraction.
Someone should go out there and tell them there wasn't going to be a wedding. Not Shelby. She didn't want to see anyone right now. She racked her brain while she studied the guests. Who would be good at telling—?
Was that—?
She squinted and spotted him again. He was seated on a chair at the end of the row, halfway back on the groom's side of the aisle. He must’ve snuck in while Shelby had been distracted by Wilder’s news about Nicholas.
Matt.
Her heart leapt as if he'd come for her, which just proved all over again how stupid that muscle was. She couldn't trust her heart. It had only ever led her astray.
What was he doing here?
People were selfish. Matt Kincaid was selfish. Her comment about TMZ earlier had probably made him see dollar signs, and he'd showed up to take more pictures. A shot of her in her brother's wedding would bring a few bucks.
Of course, now that there wouldn't be a wedding at all, the tabloids would really hype the drama. She could just see the headlines—Shelby Caine's Brother: Runaway Groom.
Anger and humiliation boiled within her. Who did Matt think he was?
She marched out of the B&B, down the porch steps, and across the grass, one hand lifting the hem of her wine-colored gown so she wouldn't trip.
Heads turned in the crowd, and the whispers began. She didn't head for the center aisle, but rounded the chairs so she could confront Matt directly.
He watched her approach, his expression cool, but she saw the nervous bounce of his knee. He looked unbelievably hot in his pressed white shirt, black vest, and dark denim jeans, and it infuriated her even more.
"What are you doing here?" Her words were too loud.
He remained seated and crossed his arms over his chest. "You invited me."
Shelby scoffed. "Please. You know that deal's off."
"I need to talk to you." His voice was low, and his eyes cut side to side.
She saw the people witnessing this little exchange.
Too bad. She couldn't have kept her voice down if her life depended on it. "I have nothing else to say to you. Go back to your ranch, Farm Boy."
She'd aimed the words to hurt him, and she watched them hit their mark as a flush crept up his jaw and into his cheeks.
She rocked back on her heel, ready to storm off, when he spoke. His voice was clear and carrying. "You lied to me, too."
That stopped her cold.
"You wanted me to think you were Shelby, the regular girl-next-door. The songwriter. Why am I the bad guy for playing along?"
She jabbed her finger at him, dismayed at how badly her hand trembled. "I wanted a chance to get to know someone without my fame getting in the way." Her voice rose. "You wanted to use me just like everybody else does."
He flinched, and she saw guilt fill his eyes. She'd held out the tiniest ray of hope until this moment, but his expression confirmed her deepest fear. He'd had an agenda.
Now he stood, reaching one hand out to her. His voice had gone low again. "Maybe in the beginning I did, but we had something amazing last night, Shelby."
She laughed bitterly and back-stepped so he couldn't touch her. "How stupid do you think I am? It's over. We're over. I'm sorry you're stuck here, Farm Boy, but that's your problem, not mine."
Her comments struck again, and he winced. Shelby spun and tromped back to the B&B.
"I have your phone number," he called after her.
What kind of amateur threat was that? "You're already blocked," she lied. If he sold the unlisted number, she'd just change it. It'd happened before.
But it didn't stop her heart from shattering as she left him behind.
Shelby had left the B&B, afraid that, even after she'd embarrassed him in front of half of Sawyer Creek, Matt would come to confront her again.
Also, afraid that he wouldn't.
She figured she was better off not knowing, so she'd left her mom and Wilder to deal with Nick's mess and headed to Mom's house to hide. The last thing she needed were more witnesses to her meltdown.
She hadn't been able to stop crying all afternoon. Every time she thought her tears were spent, images of starlight overhead would fill her mind, or she'd remember belly-laughing when she'd nearly toppled his boat, and the sadness would overwhelm her again. And that deeply intimate moment in the bed of his truck, curled against his muscular frame... Her mind replayed the memories on a continuous loop, and each one sent her into another round of tears.
She'd cried as she'd used her mom's dinosaur of a computer to change her airline reservation. She’d found a flight leaving first thing in the morning. And as she'd wandered through the hallway where pictures of her and her brothers were hung, she'd sobbed some more.
She'd promised Wilder she wasn't that same wild girl from L.A., but she hadn't changed, not really. She'd been stuffing that one part of herself—the part that ached for companionship, for a friend—away in a dark closet. And boy, had it broken free.
She'd promised her mom a drama-free wedding weekend, and she hadn't been able to deliver on that either.
All this time, she'd been making promises to her family, but now she understood the truth. It was herself she'd really been letting down. She had to get her life together because it was slowly killing her.
The doorbell rang.
Ugh. Her first wild thought had been that Matt had tracked her down. Which was ridiculous. He didn't know where her mom lived, though he could've asked anyone in town and found out.
The peephole showed it was Claire with some stranger looming behind her. Was Nicholas still missing?
Shelby pulled the door open.
"Shelby, is—?" Concern filled Claire's face. "What happened?"
Self-consciously, Shelby raised one hand as if she could hide her blotchy, tear-stained face with that simple motion. Yeah, right.
Better to bluff it out. She waved off Claire's question. "Just a… a really bad wedding d-date." It would've worked if her voice hadn't wobbled.
"Aw, honey. Is there anything I can do?"
She'd always liked Claire, and this moment gave her one more reason to. Claire, who’d been jilted at the altar a few hours before, seemed genuinely concerned.
Unfortunately, there was nothing anybody could do. Shelby shook her head.
"Is your mom home? Is...is Nich
olas here?"
"I left Mom at the B&B, and she hasn't come home yet. I haven't seen Nick since last night."
Claire's shoulders drooped, but determination firmed her lips. "Do you mind if I come in? If his suitcase is still here, maybe I could just... I don't know. I guess I'm hoping to find something that will make all of this make sense."
"Um..." Shelby didn't want company, but she'd be a jerk to refuse. "Okay, I guess."
Claire stepped through the door, and Shelby finally got a look at the guy behind her. She'd thought maybe it would be Andrew, the other groomsman, or... Well, she didn't know who she expected, but this guy was tall and built, and his eyes followed Claire like a laser beam.
"Who's—?"
"Just a friend." Claire sighed softly as she passed Shelby in the doorway. "He'll wait in the car."
The man turned, though she’d not missed his disappointment as he did so.
Shelby ducked into the bathroom as Claire disappeared down the hall toward the living room. She'd seen Nick's bag in there earlier and hadn't messed with it.
She'd been too caught up in her own drama to worry much about her brother. He was an adult. He shouldn't have walked out on his own wedding, but that was his decision. It wasn't as if he'd been kidnapped or something.
Shelby splashed her face with cold water and patted dry with a threadbare hand towel. She inhaled deeply, the scent of her mom's laundry detergent bringing a fresh sting of tears. Was everything going to make her cry now?
The fragrance reminded her of an easier time. She and her family had gone through plenty of hard times, sure, but she'd still been a kid dreaming of making it big.
How naive she'd been back then. She hadn't understood how the business would steal the most important things from her.
Or was she solely to blame since she allowed it to happen? It was harder to make friends when you didn't know who to trust. So? Maybe she needed to surround herself with different kinds of people.
Or maybe she should just stop trying so dang hard. What if she wasn't meant to have friends?
She didn't know whether she could rebuild things with Wilder, or with her mom. This weekend might've been the breaking point.
"Shelby, I'm heading out!" Claire called out. Sounded like she was near the front door.
"Okay!" Had Claire found what she was looking for? Seeing her was a good reminder that Shelby wasn't the only one who had problems.
At least Shelby hadn't tanked her career. Music was her passion, the only thing she was good at. Maybe it was supposed to be the only thing she had. Right now, it felt like the only thing she could count on.
She'd go back to L.A. in the morning, and she'd put her head down and get back to work.
Back at the ranch, it had taken Matt all of sixty seconds to change out of his wedding clothes and pack his meager belongings in a worn duffel bag.
He thought about just walking out, but he wanted answers. And, fool that he was, a part of him still hoped Mom would make things right.
She was in the kitchen, wrist deep in flour on the counter. Making bread, he guessed. She looked up from what she was doing and did a double-take at the bag slung over his shoulder. "What do you think you're doing?" She abandoned the dough, wiping her hands on the apron she wore over her jeans.
"When I turned eighteen, you asked me to partner with you to run this place. But you haven't treated me like a partner. You've treated me like a ranch hand." Farm Boy. The words were an echo that sliced his insides to shreds. Because it was true, and it was the one thing he didn't want to be. "I'm asking you to make things right."
An ugly darkness filled his mom's eyes. "This is about that girl, isn't it?" She spat the words as if she couldn't stand the taste of them.
Matt shook his head. Maybe Shelby had put the pedal down on his plans, but it had never been about her. It was all about him. "Shelby has nothing to do with us, Mom. This is between you and me, and it has been for years. I don't need my half of the ranch profits, but it'd be nice to have the back pay you owe me for the last four years."
He'd never be a master negotiator. Just saying what he wanted made his ears go hot. Maybe he should've asked for more, started higher. Lord knows, he deserved it, didn't he?
Tears pooled in Mom's eyes. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "Don't you love me anymore? How can you say you're leaving me?"
Years of practice made it easy for him to see through her blatant manipulation.
"This isn't healthy for us," he said. "For me. I've got to live my own life, and I can't do it here. I want to go to school. Maybe get a degree in architecture. Maybe something else, I don't know." He'd be one of the oldest students in class, but he didn't much care.
Shelby had been chasing her dream for years, and seeing her passion had inspired him.
Mom's insta-tears dried up. Her lips curled in a hateful smirk. "We never wrote up a formal employment agreement. You're my son, and you wanted to help me out. I don't owe you a penny."
Maybe Matt should've expected it. Every time he'd tried to talk to her about the money she owed him, or about leaving, she'd manipulated him with tears and guilt.
But this... this was a blow. A hit that stole his breath. "You never were gonna pay me, were you?"
"I need you," she said, an echo of the hundreds of times she'd said it before. Maybe she even believed it, somewhere deep inside.
But it wasn't a healthy belief.
"I need to live a life of my own." Saying the words was freeing. They were true. He did need it. A path of his own choosing. Room to make his own mistakes, even if that felt scary. And it did, especially after this weekend.
"How're you going to do that without a penny to your name?" Mom's voice pitched upward. "And don't forget the truck's in my name. You drive off with it, and I'll report it stolen."
She had a point there. It was enough to make his stomach drop. He had maybe a hundred bucks in his wallet. Not enough to make a deposit on an apartment or even rent a room for more than a night. He had no job, nowhere else to go.
Mom wanted him stuck, well and truly. But his eyes had been opened to what she truly was. He wasn't stuck. He was free.
"Bye, Mom." He strode past her and headed for the door.
"You're just going to leave Ty and Kylie?" she called out after him. "You're the only father-figure they've got."
The door slammed on her words. He did feel a pinch of guilt at leaving his siblings in her dysfunctional hands. She'd always provided a roof over Matt's head, food to eat, and clothes to wear. She'd take care of them, at least the necessities. Emotionally... that was another matter.
But there wasn't anything he could do about it, not right now. Maybe when he got settled and found a job, maybe when he had a steady income, he could offer them a choice. Maybe they'd want it, or maybe they wouldn't, but that was a worry for another day.
He walked down the driveway, then along the state road holding his thumb out. There wasn't much traffic. He might have blisters in his boots before the sun went down.
He didn't know where he'd end up, but he'd made his start.
He'd messed things up with Shelby in a spectacular way. She'd claimed she'd blocked his phone number, but he didn't know if that was true. Didn't know if he'd ever try to contact her. She was a successful woman, even if she didn't always see herself clearly. He was the farthest thing from success. No money, no job, no home. A nobody.
And she didn't want him anymore.
But there was one thing he could do for her, little though it might be.
Chapter 7
Early Monday morning, Matt pushed through the glass door in the Austin strip mall. A little bell jangled overhead.
The front counter was empty. Behind it, a graphic on the wall boasted the name and logo of Caine Moving Co.
Ten seconds later, Shelby's brother, Wilder, emerged from an office down the hall. He held a phone to his ear, lifted his index finger signifying one minute, and left Matt to look around.
T
here wasn't much to the storefront. A woman sat behind the counter. She answered a few phone calls, seemed to schedule things. Another door down the hall was open, revealing a slice of a break room. There'd been three trucks parked at the edge of the lot out of the way of the other strip mall customers, but Matt didn't think those three were the only ones in Wilder's fleet.
Shelby's brother had made something of himself, built this business on his own. Seeing it firsthand was encouraging. If Wilder could do this starting with nothing—or almost nothing—Matt could make his own way.
He wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans as Wilder returned.
"How can I help you?" Wilder's face had a wary look.
Did he recognize Matt, or was he just reacting to his rough appearance? Matt figured he looked like he'd slept on a park bench for the past two nights, which wasn't far off.
Matt swallowed hard. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do for work or where he'd find a place to sleep, but he knew this was the right first step. "My name is Matt Kincaid, and I came to talk to you about Shelby."
Whatever professional courtesy had shown in Wilder's expression was wiped clean now. He was a couple of inches taller than Matt, and when he crossed his arms over his chest, Matt gulped again.
"I don't know if she told you about me or not, but we..." They what exactly? Matt didn't know. "She's amazing."
Don't get off track.
"She wouldn't want me saying this, but she needs you to forgive her for what happened last year."
The other man's expression grew colder. "That's between my sister and me."
"I’m guessing she’s never told you how much your opinion means to her. She's really hurt that you've judged her so harshly and think she's a screw-up."
Wilder advanced on him. "I think you'd better leave."
Matt stood his ground. "Your sister isn't the wild and crazy party girl those rags call her. She works her butt off, and she loves what she does."
Wilder was almost in his face now. "You think I don't know that?"
Matt braced for a punch or a shove, but neither came. If Wilder didn't bodily throw him out, he was going to finish having his say. "Maybe I shouldn't be here. Maybe I don't have any right to say all this, but she needs you. She needs to know you still love her, even though she made a mistake. One she's been trying to make restitution for ever since, by the way. Call her." Matt punctuated the demand with a finger pointed at Wilder's chest.
Someone New: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 2) Page 5