by Ellie Danes
“It’s one of a kind. You shouldn’t just toss it away on some whim!” Tyson cried.
“Starting over isn’t a whim,” Cora said. “And I bet it feels pretty good to decide it for yourself. Otherwise, you’re just waiting around for something to happen.”
I grinned. “See? Cora understands.”
She shook her head. “But there’s something else that’s been bothering me. I dreamed for years of getting away from my home and becoming someone completely different, and it still hasn’t worked.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You’re here in Murtaugh working as a celebrity home photographer. That’s gotta be a far cry from where you grew up.”
“But it’s still the same stuff,” Cora said. “We’ve been talking about it since we met. Our parents were a big part of what shaped us, and they come through no matter how opposite them we try to be.”
I scowled. “I’m not my father.”
“And I’m not my mother, but the more I try to pretend I’m not her daughter, the worse of a mess I seem to make out of my life,” Cora said.
Tyson finished a slurping bite of pasta while he contemplated Cora again. “You know, you still look so familiar. Maybe I’ve met your mother?”
I scooped up my beer and finished it. Then I noticed the time. “Well, none of this matters because it’s almost a done deal. My business partners should be here with the paperwork for my investment any minute.”
“You’ll have to face them alone.” Tyson threw up his hands and walked to the door before calling over his shoulder, “I won’t have anything to do with you cutting your roots.”
“Off to take more photographs?” I asked Cora.
She gave me a cautious look but shrugged. “I’ll stay. Might be fun to look over some numbers instead of staring through a camera lens.”
My phone buzzed to let me know someone was at the front gate. I pushed the code to release the big wrought-iron gates that blocked the formal driveway and held out an arm to Cora.
“Who should we tell them you are?” I asked her. “Visiting royalty? Runaway celebrity daughter? Movie producer?”
Cora laughed. “How about we tell them I’m your corporate accountant? Make ‘em sweat a little.”
I chuckled as we walked to greet my guests at the front door. Cora was just as suspicious of my daring investment as Tyson, but she was willing to play along in order to get a closer look. Her muscles felt rigid around my arm, and I wanted her to relax.
“It’s no biggie. I’ve been playing with house money all my life. Time to risk some of my own,” I said.
Cora held me back long enough to ask, “You invested all your royalties from your big hit?”
“Exactly. Just what I’ve earned. All of what I’ve earned by myself but nothing of my father’s and nothing of Tyson’s,” I assured her.
That did not help loosen her up, and she gave my new business partners a very grave look as they swept into the grand foyer.
“Whoa, watch out, he’s brought an attack dog,” Chip said when he saw Cora.
“Groupies go to accounting school?” Alex asked when I had made the introductions.
They evaded Cora’s pointed questions and never gave her any real numbers, but I tried to explain to her this was just a friendly get-together. They wanted to see the place and make sure I wasn’t some house-poor formerly rich investor who was lying about my part.
“None of what they are saying adds up,” Cora told me later. “What if it’s a scam?”
“Look, I grew up helping my father spot scam-artists and cons. And I fought off my fair share when my hit was number one. Don’t worry,” I said.
“Don’t sign anything tonight,” Cora replied.
“Then you better stay and keep an eye on me.”
I joked but I was happy when Cora did stay and despite my business partners’ rudeness, we had a great time. And it felt even better when we said goodbye to the guests and walked up the stairs together.
Storm really turned on the charm. At first, I was disgusted and certain that his ‘business partners’ were scam artists. Then, the more Storm talked possibilities, the more exciting the night became. The two men were almost forgotten as he got carried away explaining his plans to me.
I was swept away, all the way up the stairs and into the master suite again.
And I’d never been more sure about anything in my life. Storm wasn’t some crazy celebrity with his head way up in the clouds. His life echoed mine in more ways than I could tell him, and I luxuriated in having someone understand me so completely.
When our lips met, it felt like a conversation we had started long ago. It didn’t matter that our chance first meeting and first night together had been days ago. The heat and passionate exchange was still there, our lips tasting and smiling in equal measure.
“You taste just a little bit like coconuts,” Storm whispered against my lips.
As his hands wove a spell over my willing body, Storm told me about a small beach hut where he once spent an entire month. It was just one room, divided by netting that caught the tropical light.
“Vines were woven right into the roof.” Storm wrapped my legs up tight around his waist. “That’s where I want you. Not lost down long hallways or across runway-length tables. Just one room and you always within reach.”
My body trembled happily at the memory, and I woke up in Storm’s wide bed. He was flung out across half the king-sized mattress and breathing like a contented steam engine. I could try to work up some semblance of cool before he woke.
I sat up and was immediately dazzled by the room around me. Chapel-arched ceilings of elaborate crown molding and a towering fireplace and mantle dominated Storm’s masculine realm. Leather high-backed chairs were clustered under a bright bay window and crystal decanters glittered in the early morning sun.
The minimalist style was balanced by the gleaming luxury of every chosen item, but they were all nothing compared to the man in the bed.
That’s when it hit me: I was falling for Storm Morris. It wasn’t his epic family legacy, his comet-like fame, or his obvious wealth. I never noticed any of that when Storm was with me. He was the one thing turning my head, distracting me from everything that had felt lost or forced about my life.
I had almost completely forgotten about my overzealous promise to save Murtaugh by getting Storm to stay. What was I doing?
My momentary rededication was broken when a warm hand squeezed my bare thigh. I was sitting up, clutching his heavenly sheets to my naked chest, and Storm Morris was gazing up at me with a sleepy grin. It was no wonder I kept forgetting what I was supposed to be doing. One look from Storm and I melted, bending over to kiss his still-smiling lips.
“Good morning,” Storm said. “I think we should start the celebration with mimosas, don’t you?”
“What? No. We can’t celebrate.” My vehemence was lost under a flurry of delicious sugar-light kisses.
“You need your strength; I get it.” Storm nuzzled my neck until I giggled. “Pancakes first and then champagne.”
“Shouldn’t I be taking photos?” I asked. “Won’t Tyson wonder where I am?”
“After some of the noise we made last night, I’m sure he knows where you are,” Storm joked.
I shoved him back onto the soft mattress and tried to scoot off the wide bed. Storm caught me around the waist and pulled me back against his warm chest. When our bare skin met, we melted together with a synchronized sigh. I tipped my head to let him nuzzle my neck more, and he almost lured me back under the covers.
“No.” I forced myself to slip out from under his hypnotizing lips. “We have to talk about your investment. And the mansion. This is all moving way too fast.”
“Us or selling my place?” Storm asked.
I jumped up. “Both. No. Just the deal with your home. I mean, do you think we’re moving too fast?”
Storm caught my hand and kissed the back of it. “Slow down, Cora. I like our pace. It finally
feels like my life is moving again.”
“But what if it’s going in the wrong direction?” I asked.
“First, you’re a journalist, then you’re a photographer, and now you’re an expert on investments?” Storm let go and got up to tug on a pair of jeans. “What’d we tell them last night? You’re an accountant?”
“A corporate accountant. And I am. I mean, I was.” I clapped both hands over my mouth.
Storm turned around. “So, not a journalist?”
He was kidding, but I couldn’t hold on to my secret anymore. Tyson was going to recognize me any day, Susie Q was bound to slip up, and Rick was a terrible liar and would tell Storm the truth the next time he saw him.
“No. I borrowed my friend Victoria’s press pass to crash your party. I grew up in Murtaugh.” I stood with his sheets still clutched to my chest and tears in my eyes. “I really am a corporate accountant; I just got fired. Then I got here and, I don’t know, lost my mind? And meeting you felt like the only thing that made sense.”
Storm faced me in nothing but a pair of jeans, looking like any regular guy who’d just had his heart ripped out. “So, what? You’re just here because you’re unemployed, bored, and looking for a way to escape again?”
He snatched up my shirt and threw it to me. Then he stood facing the door and waited for me to get dressed. I scrambled back into my clothes and tried to think of how to explain everything as quickly as I could.
“It’s not like that. This town needs you.” I reached for Storm’s arm, but he flinched away and opened his bedroom door.
“Just tell me one thing,” Storm growled. “In your professional opinion, is the investment deal I made a scam?”
I edged out into the hallway and fought back tears. “It really is, but you haven’t signed anything yet, so it’ll be fine.”
Storm gripped the door handle with white knuckles. “I signed last night. You’d gone up to your room for a minute. I was so ready to move on. With you.”
“I can fix it. I can at least help! And I have to tell you why I crashed your party in the first place—”
“Get out.” Storm didn’t yell but his hollow voice echoed hard in my ears, and he punctuated it by shutting the door in my face.
I finished getting dressed in the hallway, half hoping he’d open the door and I could have a second chance. I didn’t expect it. I certainly didn’t deserve it. So, I pulled on the boots I had been wearing last night and headed straight for the mansion doors.
Tyson called out from the kitchen, but I took off at a brisk pace and was out near the old greenhouse by the time he made it to the front door. I knew he would have offered to drive me to town, but I didn’t want him or anyone to see my tears. I walked all the way to Main Street, my eyes red but finally dry by the time I hit the sidewalk.
Right in front of Rick’s record store, my steps faltered. I had left all my things back at Morris Mansion. I’d have to ask Susie Q to go get my stuff for me. It didn’t matter now if Tyson figured out how and why he recognized me.
A flapping shadow in the store window pulled me out of my thoughts. I pretended I didn’t see Rick waving and picked up my pace down Main Street. Now was not the time to try to explain to him how I had gotten myself into such a big mess. And Rick had looked so hurt and betrayed when he saw me at the mansion that I couldn’t bear to see him.
“Cora? Are you all right?” Rick called after me but thankfully did not leave his door.
I raced down the rest of the block and ducked into Caroline’s art gallery. When the door finally clicked shut, I leaned back against it and let out one long, ragged sob.
Was I upset because I was so embarrassed? What grown woman crashed a party, slept with the host, and then lied about her profession just to hang around a while longer?
I had heard one hundred things worse and more ridiculous from both my mother and Susie Q. Even Victoria had done crazy things for a crush.
Was I upset because I was falling for him?
I pressed both hands to my mouth as the sobs came harder. Bare feet sprinted across the studio space and suddenly my mother’s arms wrapped around me.
“Oh, baby girl. Go ahead and cry,” Caroline told me. I spluttered and shook my head, but she just shushed me and stroked my hair. “Words later, your body’s saying enough for you now.”
I covered my face with my hands but that only made me cry harder. If there was one thing my mother understood, it was heartache. I had seen her comfort dozens of women with just one empathetic look and gentle touch. Caroline would never judge me.
By the time the tears dried up, Susie Q had seen us through the window and run down to the grocery store. “I brought ice cream, those potato chips you love, and chocolate-covered strawberries.”
“The bar’s stocked,” my mother said.
I shook my head but let them lead me back to the kitchen. I flopped on the sofa and tried to cover my face again.
“No way.” Susie Q plunked down on the pillows next to me. “We own our shit here, right?”
I wanted to confess everything: how I’d gotten fired and squandered all my savings trying to save face, how I hadn’t come to Murtaugh to help my mother, how I’d lied to everyone, and how I’d hurt Storm.
Instead, I brushed back my hair and said, “I told him the truth. I was trying to help, but all the lies got in the way.”
My mother knelt on my other side. “Then he’ll come around.”
I waved away her comforting caress. “Why would he? I lied from the get-go.”
“I’m sorry. I’m confused.” Susie Q spoke around a huge bite of ice cream. “How did it just casually come out that you’re a corporate accountant? That’s usually not a topic people gravitate toward.”
I clenched my fingers into fists. “He was making a huge mistake, a really bad investment, but I told him too late. It’s all my fault.”
“Storm’s a full-grown man; he can take care of his own finances,” my mother said.
Since Caroline was not the best example of an organized adult, both Susie Q and I looked at her askance. She laughed it off and opened the potato chips.
“It’s stupid.” I talked through a mouthful of chips. “I was just a fling, so I didn’t really hurt him.”
“But what about you?” Susie Q asked. “We all saw you when you came back the next morning.”
I sat up. “What do you mean?”
Caroline laughed again. “Darling, everyone could see you were in love.”
“I didn’t even know it was really him, really Storm, until that morning!” I protested.
“Exactly,” Susie Q said. “Nothing clouded your vision, not his fame or money. You fell for him, the real him, right away.”
I shook my head. “I don’t fall in love at first sight.”
A knock on the door interrupted us. We stayed still, silent, but then Tyson called out. He came around the corner and stood there stunned.
“That’s why you look so familiar,” Tyson finally muttered.
“Can we help you?” Susie Q stood up, clearly defending me.
Tyson gave her a gooey smile. “Settle down, tigress. I just came to check on my employee. Cora is taking amazing photographs for me, and I hope she continues.”
I groaned as both my mother and Susie Q shouted out, “Yes!”
I was just writing down my new ideas for the second verse when Tyson burst through the back door to the kitchen. He marched right over to where I leaned against the kitchen island and punched me in the shoulder.
“Deep breath, Ty. Don’t have a heart attack on me,” I joked.
Tyson sputtered but stopped to catch his breath. Then he stabbed a finger into my chest and said, “You made her walk all the way to town?”
“What?” I slapped away his hand. “Cora? So, did you finally figure out where you know her from?”
“You kicked her out, and she walked all the way back to her mother’s,” Tyson said.
I stood up. “All right, I may have overrea
cted. Wait, did you say Cora’s mother is from Murtaugh?”
Tyson ignored my question. “You realize she was trying to help you, right?”
“By lying to me?” I roared.
My manager didn’t even blink. He pushed his barrel-chest closer and scowled at me. “Living in a glass house there, Sean.”
“All right.” I held up both hands. “Rough start, rough end. I’m just glad it’s over. I don’t need any more distractions.”
“Weren’t you always the one reminding Ian that distractions are life?” Tyson asked.
I put one hand on my friend’s chest and shoved him away from me. “I’m nothing like my father.”
Tyson stopped me before I crumpled up the music I had been writing. “Exactly. You used to be able to balance your life. You never hid behind your money or your passions.”
“I’m not hiding, Ty. I’m just not taking advice from people who lie to my face,” I snapped.
He stepped in front of me and blocked my way. “Fine. Then what about me? I’m not lying to you, and I’m telling you that Cora is everything you want.”
I snorted. “You make the absolute worst matchmaker.”
“Just think about it, Storm. Her photos showed real talent. So what if she lied about suffering through a day job? You saw the real her.”
I scrubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know her at all. Do you?”
“Her mother is Caroline, from the art gallery on Main Street,” Tyson said.
“Oh, my god.” I leaned back against the kitchen island, realizing that was where I first saw Cora taking photographs. Suddenly, everything Cora had said about her mother made perfect sense.
“Someone who has half a chance of understanding what your father was like. Someone with local roots who loves this town. Someone who fit right into your life. That’s what you threw out,” Tyson said.
“So, I just forget she lied?” I asked.
Tyson shook his head and pointed to the back door. “You go ask her why she lied.”
He was right. I had been torturing myself about that all morning. I needed to know why Cora had crashed the party in the first place. I held out my hand for Tyson’s car keys.