Her Secret Protector

by Roxanne Snopek

  She blamed the bottle of Dirty Laundry she’d shared with Jess last night.

  “In vino veritas, as they say,” she muttered to her reflection. Between the wine, the tears and Jess’s relentless probing, Carrie had made the shocking discovery that somewhere along the line, when she wasn’t paying attention, she’d stupidly gone and –

  The door banged open.

  “Time to powder my nose,” said Aunt Pansy as she strode in. “Though it’s not my nose, and there’s no powder involved. Oh, hello, Carrie!”

  She shook her head at the sweater Carrie was wearing on top of her dress.

  “Are you expecting an Arctic updraft or something tonight? It’s hot as blazes and you’re swaddled in woollies.”

  “It’s cashmere. Very fine. It breathes.” Her heart was jumping like a rabbit in a live trap.

  In love. She’d fallen in love.

  “Excellent.” Pansy helped her out of it. “Then it won’t die when you take it off. Ah, that’s better. Look at you.” She clasped her hands in front of her, staring at their reflected images in the mirror.

  “Yeah,” said Carrie. That’s what everyone would be doing, all right.

  But Jess had insisted on lending her a dress for the occasion. In a chili-pepper red similar to that of Ethan’s car, the gown featured a short, full skirt perfect for dancing, a flattering fitted bodice, sexy scooped neckline and fine lace overlay. It was fun, flirty, eye-catching and obvious.

  In other words, completely out of character and more than a little unnerving.

  “That is definitely your color, my dear. It’s your artist’s eye, I suppose. Your handsome young man friend’s jaw will drop when he sees you. In fact, my guess is that this dance is going to be entirely too public for the two of you. If you know what I mean.”

  Is that what Ethan would assume? Darn that Jess.

  “Aunt Pan, stop.” Carrie’s cheeks would match her dress soon if Pansy kept it up.

  The woman grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

  “There’s a time for wild oats, sweetheart. Cathy kept you hemmed in way too tight. If you want to sow a few now, I say have at it. Enjoy yourself.”

  Pansy gave her a kiss on her overheated cheek, then left the little bathroom, passing Bethany Kyle, on the way in.

  “The happy bride,” said Pansy, throwing Carrie a last look over her shoulder. “This should be interesting.”

  The girl looked terrified, but she walked resolutely to where Carrie stood in front of the mirrors.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted… I needed… to apologize.”

  She burst into a shaky explanation and Carrie ended up hugging her to quell the flow of words.

  “It’s okay, Bethany,” she said.

  “No, it’s not. Dad found someone from out of town for the wedding photos. It’s going to suck, because you’re better. But I’ve been trying to decide what to get Elliot for a wedding present and now I know.”

  She smiled, then bit her lip.

  “Can you take some of your private pictures for me?”

  A laugh burst out of Carrie. And with it came hope. She still had friends. And Bethany would find her way.

  “Of course I can.”

  They hugged again and Bethany left the ladies’ room. First Trish, then Aunt Pansy, and now Bethany. Jess too, if she had her way.

  They couldn’t all be pity bookings, could they? Maybe this was the sign she’d been waiting for. Maybe, like Ethan said, all the shock and awe would blow over and Carrie would go back to being the photographer. With a quiet little sideline.

  Ethan. She couldn’t hide in here forever.

  Then the door crashed open again.

  Amanda Frankel. Carrie had been neither friends nor enemies with Amanda in high school, or since. But the incident between her and Ethan put her closer to the enemy side now.

  “Amanda,” she said.

  “Hey, Carrie.” Amanda leaned up to the mirror, pulled a tube of lipstick from her bag and applied it to her pouty lips. “I hear you’re taking dirty pictures these days. No more Virgin Ice Queen, then, huh? Good for you.”

  Carrie sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Do you have any idea how much that nickname embarrassed me?”

  Amanda’s eyes widened, all innocent disbelief. “It was just a joke. No harm meant. You always were sensitive, weren’t you?”

  She patted her hair one last time, then walked out, leaving behind a cloud of hairspray and thoughtless self-absorption.

  But Carrie couldn’t condemn Amanda for being stuck in old patterns, without acknowledging her own stagnation. She’d been burdened by the expectations of others, tortured by the mistakes in her past, haunted by secrets that weren’t hers to tell and it was easier to let everyone believe that she was still the girl she’d always been, rather than risk showing her true self.

  “No more,” she murmured, straightening her shoulders.

  It was time to find Ethan.

  *

  “There you are.”

  Carrie approached him with a glass of white wine in one hand and a beer in the other.

  “Gentleman’s choice,” she said, holding up the drinks.

  He took the beer from her, trying not to stare. Thank God, he thought, looking at the bare limbs. The girl had backbone, no doubt about it. Being out in public like this had to be difficult for her, with the cloud of scandal still thick around her. But look at her, straight-backed, chin up, facing the room like she had nothing but fun on her mind.

  And boy, did she look like fun. Her cheeks were bright, nearly matching the amazing dress she had on. The skirt twitched with every step she took and those legs looked about a mile long, especially in the heels she had on.

  He wondered what she had on underneath that short skirt. If she twirled on the dance floor, maybe he’d find out.

  No, he cautioned himself. It hurt like hell to pretend he didn’t want to touch her, hold her, kiss her, but that’s the way it had to be. Maybe one day, if things died down… if her life was settled, and his life was settled…

  Like that would ever happen.

  He’d always have Vincent to worry about and as long as that was the case, well. He’d lost one woman over it already, hadn’t he?

  And it’s not like he had something with Carrie to lose, he quickly reminded himself.

  It’s just that, he wouldn’t have minded, if he had.

  The room was rapidly filling up with people, the sound of conversations buzzing around them. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, hoping his being here with her wasn’t a mistake. He’d tried so hard to stay away from her, to shut down whatever had been building between them.

  But she wasn’t having it. And if she kept looking at him the way she was looking at him, especially in that little skirt, there’d be no doubt in anyone’s mind what, exactly, he felt for her.

  “Aren’t you glad you took me up on my offer?” she said, tucking her hand in his elbow. She pressed her breast lightly against his arm and his knees nearly buckled.

  He angled away from her, then dipped his head down to her ear. “Careful, Carrie. People will get the wrong idea.”

  “This is the idea.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “You’re my date. Can you at least pretend to enjoy my company?”

  She sounded hurt. He thought of her laughter as she played with the growing puppies, how she’d helped him clean up after them, how she’d coaxed Gun back to life.

  What she looked like on the grass, when she’d kissed him.

  The girl with the blue vase, who’d been so free and wild and whole, who kept giving and giving, even when it got tossed back in her face.

  “I’ve always enjoyed your company,” he said. “I’ve never had to pretend.”

  Was it his imagination, or did he see a flicker of hurt in her eyes? No, he must have been wrong.

  She cocked her head. “Good. Then, kiss me.”

  He looked around them.

  “Right now? Here?”

  In a
nswer, she lifted her face and pursed her lips. With Carrie in heels, he was only a few inches taller than her and it was delightful to see her standing so close to him. She smelled fresh and sweet and utterly irresistible. He lowered his mouth then and tasted her.

  In one electric touch, he was flooded with sensations. Familiar but new. Being seen, after too much hiding. Being found, after wandering lost. Coming home, after a long day. Being known, and wanted, trusted, despite the knowledge.

  It was just a simple, chaste kiss, but he felt a world of possibility in it. What had she said the day they’d met? She didn’t do casual?

  So what then did this mean?

  Don’t do it, he warned himself.

  “You’re overthinking this,” she murmured against his lips.

  “How much wine have you had?”

  “One sip. Come on. It’s time you met people.”

  She pulled him along with her and he realized, belatedly, that the color in her cheeks was not from the wine. It was determination. He followed her to a table with a group of older, very respectable-looking people.

  He recognized the platinum-blonde hair and immaculate attire of Cathy Logan, Carrie’s mother.

  “Mom, Dad,” she said, holding him tightly to her side. “This is Ethan Nash. He’s been helping me with my website. You know. After my security breach.”

  Wow. She was just putting it out there, wasn’t she?

  Cathy Logan looked up, a smooth, smiling query on her face. “Oh, yes, dear. Welcome, Mr. Nash.”

  “Mrs. Logan,” he said, taking the dry hand she extended to him. “You’ve done a wonderful job with this event.”

  Carrie pushed him to her aunt, her uncle and finally, her grandfather.

  “Ethan Nash, this is my grandfather, Nathan Jackson. Grandfather, this is my special friend, Ethan.”

  Special friend? He didn’t know whether to be honored or pissed. Nate Jackson didn’t respond at all, simply stared at Ethan from under bushy brows. Ethan stared back. Aside from Carrie, the Jackson name meant nothing to him. The Jackson shame, even less.

  Carrie glanced around herself as if to make sure they’d all heard, that there was no question.

  She definitely had an agenda tonight. She was using him to show her family, and everyone else, that she didn’t care what they thought.

  Which made the kiss and the touching and the dress all… meaningless. This wasn’t a date. She was simply making a statement. He should have felt ripped off, manipulated, but instead, compassion filled him for this girl who wanted so badly to be respected in her own right.

  Sure, it hurt, but if this is what she needed, he’d be her bad boy, and gladly.

  But if Carrie had been hoping for some sort of mass reaction, she didn’t get it.

  “Very nice,” said Carrie’s father. “You’ll have to come up to the house for dinner some time, right Cathy?”

  “Of course.” She went back to her conversation with Jane.

  “Maybe,” whispered Ethan into Carrie’s ear, “I’m not quite as horrifying as you thought.”

  “Hush,” she hissed back.

  “Ethan Nash.” Carrie’s grandfather allowed a chilly smile to crack the lower half of his face. “Not quite what we expected for our Care-Bear.”

  Carrie’s grip on his arm tightened. Ethan’s neck grew hot but he had no desire to go against the grandfather she loved so dearly.

  “A good surprise, I hope, sir,” he said.

  “He’s incredibly talented,” Carrie added. “He’s Cherry Lake’s best kept secret.”

  She wasn’t just standing up for herself, he realized. She was standing up for him – standing up with him – and that meant something.

  Nate continued to watch him, an alpha, throwing down a challenge.

  Ethan found himself smiling. Whatever her motive, Carrie’s praise made him feel ten feet tall.

  Nate’s face didn’t change, but he turned away and pointed to Carrie’s feet.

  “Those shoes,” he said. “Running around all night on those things, you’ll be lucky not to break both ankles. I hope this young man of yours will be there to catch you.”

  Beside him, he heard Carrie exhale shakily.

  Is that what he was? Carrie’s young man?

  “I’ll be there,” he said. He pulled Carrie tighter against his side, possessively, staking his claim. “She’ll need a foot massage once we get home, too. I’m good at those.”

  Nate’s face darkened and Carrie’s mother suddenly found she desperately needed an item from her bag.

  “Ethan Nash.” Jane Palmer, Carrie’s aunt, pointed a manicured finger as if just connecting the dots. “Aren’t you the one with the dog that’s chasing children around town?”

  Carrie sighed. “Auntie Jane, no one’s being chased.”

  “That’s not what I heard. Cathy?”

  Carrie’s mom nodded. “Oh yes. I heard Amanda’s Georgie had to go to the emergency room. Sounded quite gruesome. Someone said it was your dog, Ethan? I’m sure that can’t possibly be true.”

  She smiled innocently at him and Ethan understood in a flash how complicated Carrie’s relationship with her family was. The woman had obviously made up her mind, but was highly skilled in passive aggression.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” snapped Carrie. “That’s enough.”

  Before he could grab her, she stormed up to the podium, her skirt twitching, revealing a bit more thigh with each step.

  “Carrie!” He stage-whispered to her but she ignored him.

  Defending him to her family was one thing; a public statement was something else entirely. He could take care of himself.

  He certainly didn’t want her to sacrifice what was left of her own goodwill, in service of his.

  Sacrifice created obligation.

  “Carrie!”

  “Go away, Ethan,” she snapped. “I’ve had enough of this.”

  She stood behind it and tapped on the mic.

  “Hello? Can everyone hear me?”

  The DJ quieted the music and the dancing stopped. Someone shone a spotlight on her and she squinted, blinking.

  “Yes, hello,” she said, her voice high with nerves now. “Hi. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time. Is this a wonderful Cherry Festival, or what?”

  A smattering of applause. Ethan should storm up there and drag her off. That’s what he should do.

  “There’s been a lot of talk over the past few weeks about Ethan Nash’s dogs running wild and scaring people.”

  He took a step toward her but the glare she gave him made it clear that she was doing this. Period.

  The crowd grew quieter. Everyone was paying attention now.

  “It’s completely unfounded. The only injury was to Mr. Nash’s reputation. The dog in question turned out to be a sweet, homeless Labrador cross who now has four puppies that Mr. Nash is caring for, at his own expense until we locate the owner.”

  She paused and looked at Ethan.

  “He’s a good guy. He deserves better from Cherry Lake.”

  From way back in the kitchen, someone dropped a tray of cutlery and everyone jumped, including Carrie.

  “Isn’t she something, everyone?” Clinton Calloway stepped up beside Carrie. “We all should have such a cheerleader. Thank you, Carrie. Now, I want to see dancing!”

  He pulled her away from the mic and led her back to Ethan.

  “She’s quite the advocate, isn’t she, Mr. Nash? If perhaps not as credible as she once was. Though I suppose, with your past, that might make her the perfect woman.”

  Ethan’s stomach dropped.

  “Shut up, Calloway.”

  “Ethan?” said Carrie.

  “You might want to get all your facts before you stick your neck out, honey,” continued the mayor. “This man’s done Cherry Lake no favors. Tearing down your grandma’s homestead when it could have been a treasured historical landmark. Your Jackson heritage.”

  “I know all about that, Mayor,” snapped Carrie.
“Grandpa Nate doesn’t care and neither do I. You lost a chance to flip some real estate for a tidy profit and you’ve had it out for Ethan ever since. That’s just sad.”

  “It’s okay, Carrie.” Ethan tried to lead her away but she was in a state.

  “Don’t act all lily-white with me, girl.” Calloway’s face took on a darker hue. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to lately?”

  “I’m sure you do. And since it’s no longer a secret, I have nothing to hide. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to dance with my date.”

  She crossed her arms but Ethan saw how quickly she was breathing.

  “Your date,” sneered the mayor. “Has Ethan told you about his brother? How he lost his company? The only reason Vincent Nash isn’t in prison is that his brother here covered for him. Why do you think he’s even here? A guy like him? In this town?”

  Calloway’s face twisted with envy and resentment.

  “Ethan?” said Carrie. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Oh, dear.” The mayor bit his lip in an exaggerated mockery of regret. “Have I said too much? He’s told you about his wife, then, I hope.”

  “Fiancée!” But by the look on Carrie’s face, the damage was already done.

  The urge to put a fist in the man’s face had never been stronger, but Ethan resisted. One day he’d get his revenge, but not tonight, when the mayor so obviously wanted to create a scene.

  Carrie stepped backward, her heels making a clicking sound on the polished dance floor. Ethan held out his hand as the music started up, but she didn’t take it.

  “Come on, Carrie,” he said. “I can explain. The man’s a snake. Don’t listen to him.”

  “All this time, and you never said.”

  “Carrie.”

  All the color was gone from her face. Her shoulders curved inward and she clutched her elbows tightly against her sides, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “You’re a coward. A liar.”

  “Carrie!”

  “What else should I think, Ethan? Then again, why would I expect you to be honest with me? We’re not… it’s not like…”

  He reached for her but she yanked her hand back.