by Devney Perry
“Me too,” I whispered as chills traveled down my spine. I hated that sound.
“What are your flashes about?”
“Mostly the same except they don’t always stay true to what really happened. Sometimes he gets me to take the pills. Sometimes he stabs me. No matter what, they are as real as if we were still in that basement. I can still smell it. Hear the sounds. Feel the chill in the air. They’re so real.”
Gigi’s hand squeezed mine tighter. “Oh, Maisy, I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “He was my boyfriend. I should have noticed the signs and seen how evil he was, then none of that would have happened to us.”
“It is not your fault. None of us saw who he really was. He was a master at keeping his true self hidden.”
I’d told myself that same thing for years, but I’d always wonder if I could have done more had I not been so blinded by his handsome façade.
The day Everett Carlson had set foot in Prescott was the day my life had changed. He’d been a new doctor at the hospital, gorgeous and charming, and I’d been completely infatuated with him from the beginning. I had looked at him with stars in my eyes and not seen the deceit hidden beneath his perfect smile.
Lies. Everything he’d done, everything he’d pretended to be during our relationship, had all been lies.
In truth, he’d been a drug dealer, smuggling pills from the hospital and then selling them around town. He’d kidnapped Gigi because he’d thought she was onto his operation. He’d kidnapped me because I’d gotten pregnant and refused to have the abortion he had wanted. That night in the hospital basement, he’d planned on killing her and shoving enough pills down my throat to kill my baby.
To kill Coby.
Everett hadn’t gotten the chance. Gigi had fought back and created an opening for me to attack. To kill my child’s father.
I hadn’t stepped foot inside the hospital since that horrible night. There were too many memories there. Too many reminders of how naïve I’d been. Too many reminders that I had taken a life.
Too many reminders that I could have lost my son.
“I’m dreading the day Coby asks about his dad,” I whispered. It was my biggest fear. “What do I tell him?”
Gigi shook her head. “I don’t know, but whenever that time comes, I know you’ll tell him the right thing.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We sat together, holding hands, until a guest talking on his phone passed the room and broke the silence.
“Well, that got all kinds of serious.” Gigi laughed. “Change of subject?”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Are you excited for your date tomorrow?”
“Ugh,” I groaned, standing to resume making the bed. “I guess.”
“Felicity swears this guy is a catch. You never know, it could be fun.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be so cynical.” Once upon a time, I’d gotten excited for dates. I’d plan a special outfit. I’d put in effort to exfoliate, do my nails, spend extra time on my hair and makeup. But now, I just couldn’t find the motivation.
“You’re not cynical.” She fitted a pillow in its case. “You’ve just been burned by one really bad relationship and some crappy first dates. You’ve got good reason to be guarded, but Maisy, not every guy is a drug-dealing killer. You just have to keep an open mind and remember some guys need a second chance. I recall you telling me that once when I wrote Jess off as a jackass.”
I smiled. When Jess and Gigi had met, Jess had been a grade-A asshole, but I’d promised Gigi that he wasn’t a jerk and encouraged—begged—her to give him a shot. And in time, he’d won her over. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do you want to borrow anything to wear? We could finish up here, go grab some lunch, then head out to the farmhouse and you could raid my closet.”
“I was actually thinking about just wearing a black blouse and some jeans.”
She tossed me a pillow. “Black? It’s spring.”
“What? Black is a classic no matter the season.”
“Fine. Are you at least going to wear heels?”
I scrunched up my nose at the thought of my toes pinched all evening in my black pumps. “How about flats?” I was a tennis-shoe-and-sneaker kind of girl these days, but I had one pair of patent flats that weren’t too bad.
Gigi gave me her mom look and I knew there would be no winning an argument about my footwear.
“Okay, I’ll wear heels.”
“Good,” she said smugly.
I smiled and went back to cleaning, glad Gigi was here and we could spend some overdue time together. I’d grown up in Prescott, and I had friends in town that I’d known since childhood. But my relationship with Gigi was special. Not only had we survived something traumatic together, but we connected on a deeper level than I ever had with another girlfriend. If I was struggling, she was always there with a comforting hug. When I’d found out I was pregnant, I’d gone right to her for advice. Besides my mom, she was my best friend and confidant.
And yet for some reason, as the day went on, I didn’t once mention Hunter.
Normally, she’d be the first I’d tell about hot motel guests, but something about Hunter was different. I wanted to keep him all to myself right now. So I stayed tight-lipped about him all through the morning, even as we cleaned his room.
But by the time we made it back to the utility room to start the laundry before lunch, I’d decided to at least tell her about getting my photograph project started. “So, I think I’ve got a photographer to start taking pictures for new art in all the rooms.”
“Really?” She handed me a pile of sheets for a washing machine. “That’s awesome! Who is it?”
“He’s a guest.” I started one washer and then moved to the next. “He came into the lobby the other day with his camera and we got to talking. He’s pretty inexperienced so we’re just going to see how it goes, but I’m taking him around Sunday to show him some places I thought would be good for room photos.”
“I hope he turns out better than the last photographer you approached.”
I scoffed and dumped some detergent into the machine. “It can’t be much worse.”
When I’d originally had the idea to do local photos with matching postcards, I’d approached the one and only photographer in town. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been interested in my project, preferring her weddings and senior portraits, and on top of that, I had a small budget. So I’d gone out of town and hired a cheap photographer to come to Prescott.
The guy had been my age and good looking with a hippy vibe. Basically, he’d been the anti-Everett. He had also been the first and only man I’d slept with since Everett.
The morning after I’d hooked up with the photographer, he’d left a note backing out of the photography job. Gigi and I had speculated that he hadn’t wanted to get involved with a single mom. Maybe he’d thought I’d be clingy or ask for a discount on his photos. Whatever. To this day, I hadn’t a clue.
Regardless, he’d left and I had decided to postpone the art replacement. Now I was getting excited about the project again and hoped things with Hunter would turn out better.
“I’ve been meaning to apologize,” Gigi said, pulling me from those memories. “I shouldn’t have brought up that new doctor the other night. Not in front of everyone else.”
I shrugged and started folding a basket of towels. “It’s okay. Sorry I got snappy about it. I’m sure your doctor is nice but I just can’t go there.”
“I understand.” She took a towel too. “I should have known better than to bring it up but Sara was so excited, I couldn’t tell her no.”
“It’s okay. I know everyone is coming from a good place.”
“We just want you to be happy.”
I set down the folded towel. “I am happy. Even if it’s only ever me and Coby, I’m happy.”
She gave me a sad smile, like she didn’t beli
eve me. “Okay.”
We folded quietly for a few moments until Gigi asked, “Where are you thinking about taking the photographer on Sunday?”
Anywhere. I’d take Hunter Faraday anywhere, just for the chance to get to know him.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered like crazy as I told Gigi about the places I’d brainstormed for Sunday. By the time we took a break for lunch, I could barely contain my excitement.
And it wasn’t just for the pictures. I was beaming at the prospect of spending an afternoon with Hunter.
Warren Adams was going to have to bring his A game to our date tomorrow if he wanted to stand any chance at getting a second, because right now, I was all about Hunter Faraday.
I glanced at my phone for the twentieth time in the last forty-five minutes and still didn’t see a message.
Warren Adams was nearly an hour late for our date. No text. No call. No email.
No nothing.
I had been stood up.
And if that didn’t bruise a girl’s ego, I didn’t know what did.
Oh, well. It was for the best. Last night, I’d actually considered canceling with Warren because I hadn’t thought it fair to date him when I was completely infatuated with another man. But I’d kept the date, feeling that a last-minute cancelation would be rude. Then I’d promised myself I’d give Warren a real chance.
I totally should have canceled.
I’d wasted precious hair and makeup product for nothing.
Grabbing my phone, I was in the middle of sending Felicity a text, telling her that she was never allowed to set me up again, when my waitress stopped by.
“No-show?” she asked.
I looked up and shook my head. “No. I guess I’ll take my check for the wine.”
“You bet.”
Her sympathetic smile made me feel ridiculous. I didn’t need a date to eat at a nice restaurant. I didn’t need a man sitting across from me to order an expensive steak. Screw that and screw Warren Adams.
“Actually,” I called her back before she could go too far, “will you bring me a menu and another glass of the house red?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled and gave me an “atta girl” nod. “Be right back.”
I grinned and sat a little taller in my high-backed booth. Dinner tonight would be a gift to myself for all the hard work I’d been doing to get ready for this year’s tourist season.
Taking a sip of my wine, I relaxed in the thickly padded maroon bench seat and inspected my table. Each table at The Black Bull was unique, made of the same wood but charred with different cattle brands. Together with the dark paneled walls made from reclaimed barnwood and the chandeliers made of animal antlers, the restaurant struck the perfect balance of rustic and refined.
Table inspection complete, I went back to my phone and finished the text message to Felicity. I’d just hit send when a figure appeared by the end of my booth. I looked up, expecting to see my waitress, but instead it was Hunter.
“Oh.” I blinked twice. “Hi!” My greeting came out overly excited and a touch too loud.
“Hey.”
Dressed in jeans and a soft gray sweater, his eyes were sparkling in the dim light. His hair was pulled back in his signature man bun, but the strands that were usually loose at his ears had been trapped tight.
It was official. Every time I saw Hunter, he got sexier.
“Are you eating alone?” he asked.
Realizing I’d been staring, I dropped my eyes to the table. When I looked back up, I forced an easy smile so he’d think I ate dinner by myself all the time. I really didn’t want Hunter to know that I’d been stood up for a date. “Yep. Just me tonight.”
“He showed!” The waitress’s timing was lousy.
My smile fell as my cheeks burst into flames.
She set my second glass of wine on the table. “Better late than never.”
“Were you meeting someone?” Hunter asked as she hustled away.
I shrugged. “I was, but he didn’t show.”
He pointed to the booth’s open space. “May I?”
“Um, sure.” I scrambled to pull my napkin to my side of the table and scoot my wine out of his space. As he slid into the booth, I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants underneath the table, then took a sip from my water.
His feet were inches away from mine. I could smell his cologne from across the table. Was Hunter going to eat with me? Or just keep me company for a bit? Oh, god. What if he was just biding his time with me until his own date arrived?
He was probably just sitting here out of pity, waiting for his supermodel date to come and claim him. “Is your date running late?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m here alone.”
Yes! I fist pumped under the table.
“I was craving a steak,” Hunter said. “Would you mind if I joined you tonight since we’re both alone?”
Woo-hoo! “Not at all.” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for not blurting out my immediate response.
Our waitress returned and handed Hunter a menu. “Here you go,” she said, glancing at him but then doing a double take. I smiled as she blushed, completely understanding her need to gawk.
Hunter was the type of man women looked at more than once.
After ordering himself a beer, we spent a few moments studying our menus. No matter how many times my eyes focused on the letters, I’d lost the ability to read. I’d never felt this kind of dumbing attraction to a man before, not even with Everett.
“You look beautiful,” Hunter said.
My eyes ran up the menu and landed on his. The intensity of his stare was so breathtaking all I could manage in response was a breathy thank-you.
He grinned just as our waitress returned to take our orders and deliver Hunter’s beer. I used the brief reprieve to cross my legs and shift in the bench, hoping to quench some of the throbbing between my thighs.
“Where’s Coby tonight?” Hunter asked after taking a swig from his beer.
“He’s with my brother Beau and his fiancée, Sabrina. They’re having a campout.”
“Isn’t it a little cold? There was frost on the ground this morning.”
I smiled. “Their campouts are in Beau’s basement. He’s got a special tent for Coby and everything.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, they’ll have a good time. Beau and Sabrina are getting married next month and Beau is really close with Coby. Sabrina loves the campouts because they give her a chance to bond with Coby as an aunt.”
“And then you get a date night.”
I huffed and took another sip of my wine. “I am done with date nights.”
“Why is that?”
“I just haven’t had a lot of good dates lately.”
He nodded. “I know how that goes.”
“You do?” Hunter was gorgeous and could have any single woman he desired as a dinner companion. There should be no such thing as a bad date in his world. “Have you had a lot of bad dates lately?”
“Kind of.”
Kind of. I grimaced at the words. The one response I hated above all others was “kind of.”
It hadn’t used to be that way, but Everett had said “kind of” more times than I could count and he’d ruined me on the phrase. It wasn’t a yes. It wasn’t a no. It was the perfect answer to dodge any question.
Kind of. Blech.
I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth with more wine. Hunter didn’t know my aversion to that phrase and I certainly wasn’t going to explain tonight, just like I didn’t expect him to explain his dating history. If he didn’t want to talk about past relationships, I wouldn’t pry. For all I knew, he could have just had a breakup or gotten a divorce.
Since that topic was a nonstarter, I decided to pick another. This dinner was the perfect opportunity to get to know Hunter before we set off to take pictures on Sunday. “So you said the other day you’re from Chicago?”
He nodded. “Born and raised.”
&n
bsp; “Why’d you choose Prescott? It’s about as different from Chicago as you could get. Did you not like the city?”
“No. I like Chicago. Moving to Prescott was . . . necessary.”
Necessary? What did that mean? I waited a few moments for him to elaborate but he didn’t. The silence at the table turned awkward so I went for a different topic.
“Have you been here before or did you move here blind?”
“I was here once.”
Again, I waited. And waited. And waited some more.
What was happening? Was Hunter shy? He sure hadn’t seemed like that during our other encounters. Why was he clamming up now?
When I didn’t get any further explanation, I decided to try another subject, one that was safe and sure to spark a natural conversation. “When did you take up photography?”
“A while back.”
A while back. Another vague answer that I hated just about as much as “kind of.” Ignoring the tension creeping up my spine, I kept talking, hoping he’d open up. “I’ve always wanted to have a cool hobby like photography. I love taking pictures but there isn’t really anywhere to learn around here. Did you learn from someone or are you self-taught?”
“I had a mentor.” Hunter smiled but it was distant, not full of the warmth it usually held. When his eyes broke away from mine, I sagged.
I give up.
Hunter was shutting me out. I knew that body language. That tone in his voice. It was entirely too familiar. Familiar and unwelcome.
Hunter Faraday was sending me Everett Carlson vibes and I really didn’t like the reminder.
When I’d first started dating Everett, we’d gotten along perfectly. Our conversations had always been light and impersonal, mostly centered around the hospital and our coworkers, but as time went on, I’d started asking the normal questions a girlfriend would ask. When is your birthday? Where are you from? Do you have family?
He’d never answered me. Never. Not even to tell me his middle name.