“Her cell goes straight to voicemail, as usual. I just love how when she wants to get a hold of me, I’m expected to answer on the first ring, but she doesn’t even have the presence of mind to keep her phone on her. And, at a time like this, with a million things to do, and calls to make. Damn my mother!” Chloe’s earlier irritation was now hitting record levels; the thunder clouds hovering above her head were swirling; a lightening clap threatening to sound at any moment. EV didn’t particularly want to be around when it did, having witnessed several of Chloe’s meltdowns already. Her bark was always worse than her bite; once Chloe unloaded, she turned back into a cuddly puppy. Nothing festered too long, but the anticipation of when she would finally snap was enough to drive EV mad.
“Let’s go back to our suite and see if she’s there. Maybe she left her tablet in her room; we can check her agenda and track her down.”
But there was no need; as they passed by the atrium dining room, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Lila was sitting at a table by the window—the best one in the house—wedding planning materials spread all around her. Most guests would have been ushered into a less public room for this type of task, but then, most guests weren’t Lila LaRue. An impeccably-pressed waiter stood nearby, poised to jump at the smallest command.
Noting Lila’s dreamy expression as she scanned over a list of table setting options, EV’s stomach dropped at the thought of disappointing her old friend. Though it had to be done, she would have preferred not to be the bearer of bad news.
“Hey Mom, can we sit?” Chloe shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to another, almost hoping to be turned away and avoid the situation altogether.
“Of course, dear. Would you like something to eat? Or a drink, perhaps? Claude here will get you anything you’d like.” Lila cleared a space at the table for each of them, setting another pile of paperwork and samples onto the remaining empty chair beside her.
Chloe settled onto the proffered seat and held up a hand, discouraging the eager waiter. “No, thank you. We need to talk to you. It’s about Javier.” She turned to the waiter, “Could you give us a moment?”
“What about him, darling, don’t you like him?” Lila’s starry eyes every time she talked about Javier cut Chloe like a knife. This was going to be difficult. She looked to EV for support, received a gentle nod of encouragement, and launched into her story. Instead of outrage, Lila appeared bewildered by the accusation that Javier was planning to breach security.
“You’re jumping to conclusions. He’s been on the phone practically every spare minute today discussing those inaccurate break-in reports. This kind of thing happens all the time at hotels; it’s his job to investigate, and I’m sure what you overheard had to do with that.”
Chloe considered the question, but couldn’t help remembering the urgency in Javier’s tone, the mention of danger, and the comment about disabling a safe. That didn’t seem to be on the up-and-up to her. When she didn’t answer, Lila continued.
“Chloe, do you honestly think that I can’t take care of myself, after all this time? And do you really think I would get into a marriage—at my age, and with my assets—without truly knowing the man? Or without a prenup? Javier has plenty of money of his own, and we have plans to buy a beach house. That must have been what he was talking about. Now, stop worrying about me, and give him a chance. I think you’ll really like him once you get to know him. Can’t you just be happy that I’m happy? I thought you would have wanted more for me, and I’m disappointed that you’re not being supportive. You’re so dramatic, Chloe, and it’s unbecoming. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finalize these table setting choices. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
Lila went back to flipping through the hand bound portfolio, pointedly keeping her gaze away from Chloe and EV’s. The fact that her reaction sounded an awful lot like one of Chloe’s own tirades did not escape EV, but she knew better than to comment. Still, she wasn’t known for keeping her mouth shut, and couldn’t help but interject.
“Lila, we’re only trying to look out for you. We aren’t here to question your judgment; I know from experience that it’s easy to believe in someone and then find out their intentions aren’t in your best interests.”
“Mother, please. I love you, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Chloe implored.
“I have it covered.” Was Lila’s response. “Now please, butt out.” And with that, she refused to say another word, forcing Chloe to retreat, pulling EV alongside.
“I don’t know what we were thinking, approaching her that way. She’s as stubborn as a mule; it’s clear where you picked up that charming trait.” A gentle hand on Chloe’s shoulder took the sting out of the accusation, though she knew EV was right. There was only one way to get through to Lila now—expose Javier. Now they just needed a plan.
Chapter 12
“I’ve seen how you look at him; how your eyes search him out!” Dalton railed at EV.
A wave of her hand dismissed his concerns, “You’re letting your imagination get the better of you.”
Fists clenched, Dalton kicked the leg of the lounge chair nearest him—a little harder than he’d meant to. It slid about a foot across the flagstones, making a horrendous screeching noise as it did.
“How mature.” EV commented, the wry twist of her lips that matched his chagrined grimace at odds with the glint in her eye.
“Mature? You’re questioning my maturity level when you’re practically panting after your high school sweetheart! Tell me, EV, has it been a strain on your arms to carry that torch all this time?” He let his voice rise up a decibel or two.
“I guess you’ll have to tell me. Is that why your wife left you? Because she couldn’t stand watching you pant after me all those years?” Her shrill words carried on the wind.
“Leave Marlene out of this. She had her own reasons for leaving, and they didn’t have anything to do with you. In fact, lots of things happen in Ponderosa Pines that have nothing to do with you! Too bad you can’t seem to stay out of anything that goes on, though.” He reached forward to poke her in the chest. She leaned into it, forcing him to pull back a little at the last second. He’d left her the perfect opening.
“Tell that to the Elders who can’t seem to do squat without running it by me first! I’ve been here four days, and they’ve called seven times to ask inane questions.” She injected, her voice rife with loathing.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve complaining about having to make decisions when it’s your control issues that make you think you’re in charge of everything. I’m law enforcement. It was my job to find Evan Plunkett’s killer, and you couldn’t even let me have that much room on my chain. You had to go and do it for me.” EV saw a hint of actual resentment still lingering in him about that one, although she still maintained the timing had been against her.
“Evan Plunkett. Hah!! You were floundering around with no clue, so I had to step in and handle things. Like I always do.” It was her turn to poke him in the chest. “You should be thanking me, not throwing it in my face!”
Dalton pulled it back from taking the argument to a more real place. Finding her in her own home facing the wrong end of a gun was an image he would probably never get out of his head.
“Maybe if you let me take my balls out of your purse once in a while, I’d get something done.”
The visual on that one was nearly EV’s undoing, but she held it together even though her eyes were alight with amusement.
“Fine, you want ‘em? I’m through with you and your balls!” EV swung on her heel and stalked away, leaving Dalton standing there for a moment before he, too, stomped off in the other direction.
From where he stood, conveniently hidden behind one of the battlements above the terrace, Remy listened with a smarmy, self-satisfied smirk, and no clue that the entire scene had been staged for his benefit.
EV would be headed back to her room to change into running gear. He’d bet it was still her preferre
d method of blowing off steam. If he hurried, he could probably intercept her. The smirk turned to a leer. There were other ways an angry woman could channel her emotions. If he was lucky, he might just get lucky with her.
* * *
“Jerk alert. Behind you,” Chloe leaned against one of the columns in the foyer; she hissed the warning to EV when she passed by. In answer, EV waggled her eyebrows and put a little extra sway into her step that didn’t match the black look on her face. Making the quick decision to keep to public spaces, she stepped into the homey little pub. More than one head turned to watch her pass.
Plunking down on a tufted bar stool, EV rested her elbows on mahogany with an inch-thick finish polished to a gleam. “Scotch rocks,” she barked at the bartender. Poor man, he didn’t deserve to be dragged into this.
She felt, rather than saw Remy ooze onto the next stool over—schooled the lip that wanted to curl when his thigh brushed against hers. As it was, he took the shiver running through her as an indication of interest, rather than the revulsion it actually signified.
Asshat follies, act two.
“Here we are again. Face it, EV. Fate keeps drawing you to me.”
What? Like flies to a fresh pile? “Go away, Remy. I’m in no mood to deal with you right now.”
“You don’t want me to leave. We both know that.”
I’d better get an Oscar for this.
EV let her eyes fill with tears and said, “I’d really like to be alone.” In the past, playing the hero had been his favorite role. Assuming some things never change, she tapped into his fantasy.
“Man trouble? You need someone to cheer you up. I’m just the guy. Do you still like to dance?” He pulled her out on the floor. This early in the evening, it was practically empty. Only one other couple occupied the space. EV let a smile hover as she watched a dapper gentleman in his mid-seventies with nimble feet twirl his wife out and back, then bend her into a dip that ended in a kiss.
“Loosen up.” Remy admonished, when EV remained stiff in his arms.
“I’d rather just go back to my room.” For once, her thoughts and her words matched.
“We’d have more privacy if we went to mine.”
Not if you were the last man on earth.
“Why are you here? After all this time, what’s behind this compulsion you seem to have for mending fences? Lila says you two have managed to successfully avoid each other for years, despite running in similar circles. So, why now?”
“I came for you, EV. When I heard Lila was getting married, I knew you’d come. I had to see you.”
“Why? We don’t even know each other any more.”
“I’ve never forgotten you. Us. You can’t tell me you don’t remember how good we were together.”
I think I threw up in my mouth a little.
“I remember.” EV let her body loosen and become more pliant. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. He pulled her more tightly against his body; dipped his head to bring his lips closer to hers.
Nope, nope, nope. There’s a limit.
EV pulled back, pushing him away. “I can’t be with you right now, I need to go.” She let him think she was torn by her own desire for him. With his ego running rampant, he reached that conclusion on the tiniest of leaps.
In the rush of getting away from Remy while she still had enough control to keep from breaking cover and telling him exactly what a jackass he really was, she passed right by Dalton, who glowered in the shadows. He, however, had no problem giving Remy a piece of his mind.
* * *
With EV clear of the room, Remy returned to the bar, a smirk on his face. No way he could lose now. This should have been his plan all along. What better way to take down the community he hated than by turning their own figurehead against them. All he had to do was get her into bed; get her addicted to him again. She’d do anything to please him, just like before. He wondered if she was still a tiger in the sack—maybe he would take his time with it. Inject the poison slowly, then watch her burn Ponderosa Pines to the ground. Figuratively, of course.
Too busy gloating, he paid no attention to the man who slid onto the barstool recently vacated by his prey. When Dalton’s voice sounded in his ear, Remy twitched in surprise.
“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” There was no threat in the words, only a promise.
“Look at you, Ernie Burnie,” Remy sneered. Dalton let the insult pass. He wasn’t interested in reverting to childish name calling. “She’ll choose me. Just like she did the first time. I won then; I’ll do it again.”
“If you hurt her, I’ll take you apart in little pieces, and hide them where no one will ever think to look.” Dalton repeated.
“You don’t scare me, Burnsoll. One word from me, and you’ll go sniveling off in a corner like you always did.” Remy’s dismissal pushed Dalton’s buttons.
“Time passes. Things change. I’m all grown up now, Remy. Too bad I can’t say the same for you. EV’s mine now. You had your chance with her, and you blew it.”
“Maybe you should tell her that, so she’ll stop sniffing around. I don’t think you can hold her.”
The image of Remy’s head rocking back as Dalton pumped fists into his face rose up in Dalton like a siren’s song. Several deep breaths passed before he felt fully controlled enough to get up and walk away. His parting shot, “Remember what I said.”
If he’d thought the confrontation would release the angry pressure he felt whenever that scumbag was in the room, Dalton had been wrong. The argument had made it ten times worse.
Chapter 13
The jingling of her phone for about the fifth time in as many hours elicited an internal groan from Chloe. She was sure it was Talia again, with another photo update on how Sugar and Spice were doing while she was away. For crying out loud, I love them, but they’re cats. Sure enough, her inbox showed another new message featuring a picture of Sugar and Spice curled up together on a fluffy sage green ottoman Chloe recognized as part of Talia’s living room furniture.
Not bothering with even a perfunctory response, Chloe instead opened the group message including Veronica and Mindy. Four unanswered texts all wanted the same info; those two had one-track minds—well, maybe two-track. First, the intimate details of what they imagined was a romantic getaway for her and Nate; second, to ensure that Chloe wasn’t screwing up the relationship in their absence. Chloe suspected a significant part of the second was related to concern that she’d be leaving them without another full couple for future game nights if the relationship went south.
I’m in bridal hell, and my mother is wielding the pitchfork. Not a lot of time for extracurriculars, but we’re making the best of it. Girls’ night when I get back; the entire story is going to require many mojitos and about three pounds of fudge. Miss you!
She knew they’d be clamoring for more, and as she silenced her phone Chloe’s mind began to wander back to Ponderosa Pines. This trip, supposed to be fun and relaxing, had turned into anything but. Right now, she would rather be curled up in her own bed next to Nate—all thoughts of Remy, Javier, and high crime expunged from her memory.
To top it all off, her editor, Wesley, had insisted she write at least one current edition of ‘Babble & Spin’, in case anyone noticed a correlation between the timing of her absence and the lack of an original column. She and Wesley had concocted a plan—initially Chloe’s idea—of releasing several “throwback” editions of the paper during the rest of her vacation. Each would feature news from the past, in what Wesley had coined a Retro-Spective. The chosen articles would reflect a theme; any new pieces highlighting the changes that had taken place between the past and the present.
It was a good plan—one people would enjoy—but one that required her to get creative. Luckily, EV’s cell was burning up with a slew of text messages detailing all of the goings-on back home, and though the residents of Ponderosa Pines fancied themselves above most of the high-tech nonsense, they were all just as hooked on social media
as the rest of the country.
Although Chloe typically followed up on leads gleaned from sites like Facebook and Instagram in person, she figured one column of recycled information wouldn’t hurt anyone. Everyone else was occupied with their own tasks at the moment, and since Nate still didn’t know about her secret job title, it was as good a time as any to get it out of the way—one less thing she’d have to worry about.
After scouring the web for useful information, Chloe combined her findings with the texts EV had deemed useful to pen a short but informative column.
Hey Piniacs, are you ready to dish? Looks like we’re rudderless without our fearless leader. Miss Grapevine herself is off living it up in style at an Irish castle. Hope she and her sidekick are having a great time. We’re all on the edge of our seats wondering about Lila LaRue’s new fiancé. Hope they’re taking lots of pics for us homebodies!
Meanwhile, back on the ranch, Lottalia are making folks uncomfortable everywhere they go—can’t sisters just get along? It’s old news that Lofty Lottie has always lorded over little ‘sis; guess she’s having trouble now that Teeny Tallie’s grown a monster-sized pair. Maybe what’s private should remain behind closed doors, huh ladies?
Chloe pushed aside the modicum of guilt she felt at calling out two people she actually considered friends, especially one who was doing her a big favor at that very moment. Still, their antics were getting out of control, and she was just carrying on the decades-old tradition of unrelenting snark Wesley expected of her. Besides, maybe a little public humiliation would encourage Lottie to back off her newly-widowed sister.
By the time the task was complete, Chloe felt a weight lift from her shoulders; partially because she could now focus on what was in front of her, but mostly because she had made the decision to come clean with Nate, and let him know that she was the author of ‘Babble & Spin’. She only hoped he wasn’t too mad at her for keeping the secret in the first place.
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