by Cindy Stark
Erin parked her car in front and slid from the driver’s seat. She hadn’t made it up the second step when a man near her age appeared from the side of the house holding a large ax.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice a deep timbre that caught her attention. Eyes the color of burnt caramel, fringed with enviously long lashes, regarded her with a hefty dose of suspicion.
“I’m looking for Annabelle.” Her gaze slipped to the well-sculpted, tattooed muscles peeking from beneath his t-shirt sleeves. Good Lord, the man was built. The forest green color of his shirt set off his dark looks and stretched nicely across the wide barrel of his chest. “She’s expecting me,” she added as though she needed to clear herself of any doubt on his behalf.
“You must be the niece.” He didn’t seem as pleased to see her as she was to be there.
“I am.”
“She’s inside.” He tipped his head toward the front door before he headed back around the side of the house.
She watched him go, admiring his sexy swagger, before she released the breath she’d unconsciously held. If he wouldn’t announce her or escort her inside, why had he wasted his time greeting her? He hadn’t introduced himself or asked her name. The whole encounter had been pointless.
Erin finished climbing the stairs and rang the doorbell. When no one answered, she knocked and then tested the doorknob. It was unlocked, so she let herself inside.
* * *
“Shit.” Rick Hartigan shook his head in disbelief as he headed to the backyard. Annabelle had outdone herself this time. The other women she’d brought around trying to tempt him away from his girlfriend had been pretty, but this one was a knockout. Her thick auburn curls and nice ass had caught his attention first, but when she’d turned those hazel eyes on him, he knew the next few weeks would be complete and utter hell.
But he’d show Annabelle. Maybe once and for all. He wasn’t interested in anyone but Melinda. He’d promised he’d wait for her to return, and he had every intention of doing so.
He stopped in front of the wooden stump where he’d been splitting logs and moved his next victim into place. Using all of his frustration, he brought the axe straight down, making a clean cut.
He tossed the pieces to the side and grabbed another log. Annabelle somehow knew his resistance had weakened. Knew he hadn’t had more than brief conversations with Melinda in weeks. Knew redheads were his weakness.
If she hadn’t been like a grandmother to him for the past ten years, he’d put her in her place instead of allowing her to play her games.
For the past couple of months, Annabelle had been talking about her niece, the anticipation of her arrival spreading to him like a virus. Now she was here, and she was more attractive than he’d imagined.
If Annabelle didn’t need his help so much, he’d consider moving in with Kellan for a couple of weeks in order to save his sanity and protect his integrity. But he couldn’t leave her on her own, and how well did Annabelle know this girl before she’d invited her to stay?
No, he would have to man-up and suffer through another round until Annabelle realized all her matchmaking attempts would fail.
* * *
Inside, Annabelle’s house was silent, and Erin wondered if her aunt was home. The guy outside had said she was, but the house appeared deserted at the moment.
“Hello?” she said in a hushed voice. It seemed sacrilege to call out in such a quiet place.
An unexpected breeze caressed her cheek as the scent of lavender perfume filled the old-fashioned red-papered entryway. A polished wooden floor led to nearby rooms and a gleaming banister curved up the stairs to the second level.
“Hello,” she called again as she glanced around, sure someone had joined her.
Still, no answer.
She was half-tempted to go back outside and question the sexy stranger, but she wasn’t certain she wanted to encounter his unpleasant demeanor again.
Maybe unpleasant was too strong of a word. Curt? No. More like unsettling. And that probably said more about her attraction to him than his reaction to her.
Instead, she started down the hall toward the back of the house.
A small parlor straight out of the 1870s sat empty, waiting for someone to sneak a book from the tiny library or enjoy a cup of tea.
Beyond that, a gleaming kitchen greeted her. Modern, stainless steel appliances accompanied a massive hand-hewn table borrowed from the past. Unfortunately, Aunt Annabelle wasn’t in there, either.
The last room appeared to be an addition to the original home. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced south, framing the regal mountains that rose in the distance. An old-fashioned stove huddled in the corner, waiting for a chilly winter’s day. A comfortable-looking leather couch had been placed to provide the greatest view of the outdoors, along with two golden wing-back chairs that also faced away from the door.
Erin stepped into the room and a sheet of solace fell over her. This was a room where a person could truly escape the hassles of life. She inhaled deeply, the muscles in her shoulders and neck softening as she exhaled.
Movement outside caught her attention, and she focused on the very fit, very attractive man she’d just met as he lifted an axe over his head and brought it swiftly down, splitting a large log into pieces.
Oh. My. Erin lifted a brow and stepped to the side for a better view. The sunlight was bright enough outside that it should provide some cover inside the house.
He placed another log on the chopping block and lifted the axe again. His moves showcased each sinewy curve of his triceps, and she melted with feminine appreciation. Too bad he didn’t possess a nicer disposition.
Obviously, her great aunt had hired him. If she wanted to know more, Erin would have to find a way to inquire about him without being obvious.
She turned to leave and nearly jumped out of her skin. Aunt Annabelle sat in the chair farthest from the door, facing the window, her face relaxed as she slept.
Erin hissed in a breath. The good news was she’d found Aunt Annabelle. The bad news was it had cost her several years of her life.
The woman’s face seemed paler than when they’d last met, and without her hazel eyes flashing with spitfire, she seemed much older. Like she’d lost her spirit.
Like she was dead.
The thought hit Erin with a sharp panic, and she crept closer, looking for signs of life. That would be horrible if her aunt died the day she arrived.
Suddenly, Annabelle’s chest expanded, and she opened her eyes, sending another fright through Erin.
Annabelle blinked a few times, and then her face lit into a smile. “Hells bells. It’s about damn time you showed up.”
Erin’s anxiety shot from her mouth with a laugh. “I know. I’m sorry. I really wanted to come weeks ago, but I had to get some things in order. You received my phone message, right?”
Her aunt straightened, tossing the pink shawl from her lap. “I did, and you’re here now. We need to celebrate. Have you brought in your suitcases? I’m putting you upstairs in Madam Rosa’s room.”
That stopped her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out of her room. I’m happy to sleep on the couch or wherever.” Despite her upbringing, she was pretty low-maintenance.
A youthful giggle escaped Annabelle’s lined lips. “Rosa was the madam of this house a hundred and thirty years ago, love. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you slept in her room.”
“Wait. What?” A madam?
Annabelle delighted in her shocked expression. “Didn’t I tell you, this house was once a brothel?”
“Really?” The thought fascinated her. Erin glanced about the room again, trying to see the house in a new light. “Like real old-fashioned prostitutes?”
“With corsets, garters and feather boas. But don’t let that fool you none. Rosa was a shrewd business woman, and she’d just as soon shoot a customer as let him walk out the door without paying.” Annabelle shrugged. “Then again, her occupation did eventually kill her.�
�
“What happened?” Erin asked, already intrigued with the history of the house and the woman who used to live there.
Annabelle held out an arm. “Help me up, will you?”
Erin walked forward and gripped her behind the elbow, afraid if she pulled on her arm, she might break her. The older woman had seemed so much stronger at the reunion the previous summer.
She gave a soft sigh as she rubbed a hand across her lower back. “It takes a minute to get things circulating again when you’re my age.”
“I brought my portable massage table so I can rub your back if you’d like.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” Sincere appreciation showed in her eyes.
“First, I want to show you something.” Annabelle headed out of the sunny room, back toward the front door. “Right here.”
Hanging on the red-papered wall near the front door was an old photograph. Two younger women, their faces heavy with makeup, flanked another, taller woman. None of them smiled, but the one on the left side did have a devious look about her.
“This is Rosa with two of her girls, Adeline and Hester.” Annabelle brushed some dust from the top of the wooden frame. “When I found the picture in the attic, I insisted that Henderson hang it to honor the women. After all, it was their house first.”
Erin studied the sepia-toned photo, trying to picture the women walking these halls. The majority of the business would have taken place upstairs, she supposed. Where she’d be sleeping that night. “You were telling me what happened to Rosa.”
“Oh, well,” Annabelle said with a laugh. “She pushed her man just a little too far.”
“Her man? I thought she was a prostitute.”
“She was. Then John Henry came through town, and damned if he didn’t fall head over heels with the less-than-proper Miss Rosa. He was a gold prospector, and he’d hit it big time. If Rosa accepted him, she’d never have to work another day in her life.”
“Wow. How nice would that be?” She didn’t want to give up her independence, but if she had someone to pay the bills, it would be much easier to lose herself in her photography.
“Lovely, I’m sure.” Annabelle turned, grasping for the wall to steady herself, and Erin quickly took her arm.
“Thanks, love.” Once she was stable, she headed toward the kitchen, and Erin followed.
The older woman opened a pantry door and pulled out a box of packaged golden cakes stuffed with cream. Beyond the box lay a handgun, barely visible.
Erin remained silent, wondering how long this woman would continue to shock her.
“Care for an afternoon snack?” her aunt asked.
“Uh…no.” She wrinkled her nose, but couldn’t help smiling as the woman tore into the plastic wrap. “Aren’t those really bad for you?”
“Only if you have them without a shot of whiskey. Then they’ll clog your arteries for sure.”
“But the whiskey counters that?” She wasn’t sure she believed it.
“Damn straight.” Annabelle pulled a bottle of Jack and a glass from the same cupboard. “How about some of this, then?”
Erin glanced at the clock above the table. The time was barely past three in the afternoon. “I think I’ll pass for now.”
The woman shrugged and carried her snacks to the table where she took a seat.
“You were telling me about Rosa.” Erin sat across from her great aunt, running her hand over the massive mahogany table that gleamed with polish.
“The table was hers,” Annabelle continued after Erin sent her a puzzled look. “One of the first gifts John Henry gave her.”
“It’s absolutely beautiful.” She pictured Rosa admiring it just as she was now. Then an almost tangible feeling passed over her, and she shivered. Could wood hold memories or the essence of previous owners? It was a natural element.
“He gave her many beautiful things. Unfortunately, power meant more than money to Rosa.”
“Which means…” Erin prompted.
Annabelle’s eyes grew crystal clear, and suddenly the woman Erin had met at the party reappeared. “Rosa enjoyed the power she had over men more than the money, more than she loved poor John Henry. She’d promised she’d give up her occupation and be a good wife to John, but eight months into their marriage, he returned home from an excursion to find his lovely, rehabilitated wife screwing another man. He shot her in their bed before shooting himself in the head.”
“Oh my god.” Erin put a hand to her throat. “What an awful way to go. And that happened here?” Once again, she judged the house through new eyes. “The place isn’t haunted, is it?”
Her aunt laughed out loud, making her feel silly. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Erin’s cheeks heated. “It’s just that I’ve heard when a violent death occurs in a place, things can…linger.”
“Well, I guess you never really know, do you? But I don’t expect you’ll be seeing any ghosts.”
A sigh of surprised relief escaped her. Not that she did or didn’t believe in spirits, but she preferred to have no actual knowledge of their existence. However, she did sort of like the idea that she was staying in a house whose former owner had some power and notoriety. She could only imagine how the men would have tried to handle a woman like that all those years ago.
Annabelle stuffed half the snack cake in her mouth. “We’ll be having some guests stay with us for a couple of days,” she said around a mouthful.
“Guests?”
She swallowed and lifted a penciled in eyebrow. “Using the place as a bed and breakfast helps pay the bills. I thought I’d mentioned that.”
“That’s right. You did.” Her aunt had said so back in Salt Lake City, but for some reason Erin had supposed she’d have her all to herself while she visited. “Do you know anything about them?”
“A couple on their honeymoon.” She took another bite. “Running this place is a great way to get to know all kinds of people. You’ll see.”
“It sounds like fun. I’m looking forward to it. Is there anything I can help with?”
“Nope. I have the bedroom ready. Rick is out chopping wood so that we have plenty for a fire since it’s supposed to get chilly tonight.” Her aunt narrowed her gaze, peering at Erin through her glasses. “How are you at cooking?”
So, Rick was his name. “I’m pretty decent. I’d be happy to help you cook. ”
She downed her shot of whiskey. “That sounds lovely, and I accept. How about starting with dinner tonight?”
“Of course. I can help anytime you need me. Will the couple be eating with us?”
“They will, along with Rick. Dinner is always more fun with lots of people.”
Erin wasn’t sure how she felt about dining with Rick. He certainly appealed to her visually, and for some reason, his aloofness intrigued her. But she didn’t necessarily want to sit across from a man who might cast rude looks all night. Then again, it didn’t seem like she had a choice. “Sounds like a nice evening.” And hopefully not too awkward.
Her aunt stopped as though suddenly aware of something and looked around. “Where’s your luggage? I didn’t see any in the entryway.”
“It’s still in my car. I thought I would come in and say hello first.”
Annabelle crumpled the cellophane wrapping paper from her snack and stood, picking up her shot glass at the same time. “I’ll get Rick to help you.”
“No. I can get them myself.” The last thing she wanted was to annoy him further before dinner. Walking around to the front of the house to greet her had obviously been taxing enough.
Annabelle frowned. “In my day, a lady would ask a gentleman to help her. All this women’s lib has done nothing but hurt women if you ask me.”
Erin smiled. “But it’s given us our freedom and power.”
“Are you sure? If you ask me, Rosa had plenty of her own power, and yet she had men stumbling over her to give her what she wanted.”
“She also traded sex for power. Are you suggesting I do tha
t?” Erin asked with a touch of humor in her voice.
Annabelle lowered her brows. “I suppose you have a point there.”
After Annabelle set her glass in the sink, Erin gave her a big hug, breathing in the wonderful scent of lavender that seemed to follow her aunt. “I’m so happy to be here. Thank you for inviting me. If you’ll tell me which room is mine, I’ll bring in my suitcases.”
“You’ll be in the green room at the top of the stairs. It’s the best one in the house.”
“You should save that for your guests.” Though she couldn’t say she minded the preferential treatment.
Her aunt widened her eyes as though she was surprised. “You are my guest. My most important guest, and I’m very happy to have you here. I’ve been very lonely since Henderson died. Rick provides some company, but you know how most guys are with small talk.”
Erin recognized the perfect opportunity to inquire further. “I think I might have met Rick outside when I first arrived.”
“Tall, good-looking hunk of burning love?” Mischief flashed in Annabelle’s expression as the smile lines around her eyes deepened.
Heat fanned across Erin’s cheeks at her aunt’s description. “Umm, I suppose you could say that.”
Annabelle seemed to delight in the discomfort she’d conjured in Erin. “Of course, I can say that. If I were thirty years younger, I’d go after him myself.”
Which would still make her far too old for someone Rick’s age. But in Annabelle’s case, Erin had a feeling that wouldn’t matter. The woman lived without limits, without regrets. If Erin could learn to emulate that, she’d certainly be happier.
“Unfortunately, Rick has his heart set on a little trollop who headed off to get her fashion design degree seven months ago,” her aunt continued. “I thought once she was gone, he’d realize he was better off. No such luck. She says she’s coming back, and like an idiot, he promised he’d wait for her. I admire a man who honors his word, but at some point he has to see she’s all wrong for him.”