by Devney Perry
As we walked toward the enormous garage, which was perpendicular to the farmhouse, all of the sexual energy I’d been feeling was replaced with anxiety.
Nick must have felt my nervousness, that or heard my pounding heartbeat, because he shifted the six-pack he was carrying and grabbed my hand.
His hand-holding should have been comforting but it was actually making things worse.
The last time I had been here, I’d bolted right after the Halloween party had started. I’d seen the Clearys since but no one else from that night. Prescott was too small for Nick’s friends and acquaintances not to know who I was. What did they think of me?
Usually I didn’t care much about what people thought, but here things were different than they had been in the city. I wanted to fit in Prescott and I worried that I didn’t.
But that wouldn’t stop me from trying.
I wanted to be a beloved member of the community, like Gigi Cleary. Everyone talked about her with admiration. Even though she wasn’t a Montana native, she was one of Prescott’s adored citizens. I wanted to be the adored kindergarten teacher. At least for as long as I was living here.
All of the people here tonight were Nick’s friends and long-time Prescott residents. What were they going to think of me waltzing into a party, holding Nick’s hand?
“Don’t stress, Emmy,” he said.
“Easy for you to say. These are your friends. I’m just the estranged wife.”
Nick stopped us a few feet away from the garage door. “These are good people and they won’t judge. Besides, they all know that the reason we were previously estranged was because of me.”
“What? You told them?” I asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t go into specifics but I let them know that any anger or hostility you had toward me was well deserved. They all know that I was the one in the wrong.”
“Why would you tell them that?”
“Prescott’s a small place. I didn’t want gossip flying around and getting out of hand,” he said.
He had protected my reputation without being asked. He’d never know how much that meant to me, but it was the world. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“We’re going to walk in there and the women are going to steal you away.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“You will be. I won’t. I’ve liked having you all to myself these last couple weeks.”
He could be so unbelievably sweet. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little of the same.”
“We’re going to make it, Emmy.” He pulled me inside before I could respond.
The garage was decked out with balloons, streamers and crepe paper. Across the back wall was a huge banner that read Happy Kidnap-versary!
“Ms. Austin!” Rowen called at the same time her mother exclaimed, “Emmeline!”
Nick was not wrong. I hadn’t been inside for more than five seconds before Gigi pulled me into the huddle of women standing next to the snack table. It was filled with so much food that it rivaled some of the spreads I’d had catered for my father’s fundraising galas.
“Emmeline, meet Maisy Holt,” Gigi said, introducing me to a beautiful blond woman with doe-shaped gray eyes and a warm smile. A cute brunette baby with dark brown eyes was perched on her hip. “And this is her son, Coby. Isn’t he the cutest thing?”
“He’s adorable,” I said, leaning in to coo at the baby. “How old is he?” I asked Maisy.
She smiled. “Five months.”
I knew about Maisy Holt from the news archives I’d dug up last fall. Coby’s father was the drug-dealing whacko that had kidnapped both Gigi and Maisy with the intention of murdering them.
“This is my mother-in-law, Noelle.” Gigi continued with the introductions. “And this is Sara Phillips. She works with me at the hospital, and her husband, Milo, is one of Jess’s deputies.” Sara was a young woman with strawberry-blond hair and green eyes.
“Where’s your baby?” I asked Gigi when the introductions were finished. “I’ve been dying to meet him.”
Every day, Rowen had come to school and given me a report of what baby Ben had done the previous night. He’d been born two weeks before Christmas and his proud big sister talked about him nonstop.
“I’ll go steal him from Jess. He’s a Benny hog.” She smiled and went to the other side of the garage where the men had congregated.
“Ms. Austin, do you want to see my kitties?” Rowen asked, yanking on my hand.
“Oh, I’d love to,” I said as she led me to a small alcove. I met all of her cats before Gigi came over with a bundled, sleeping baby in her arms.
“He’s big, isn’t he?” I asked as she placed him in my arms. I hadn’t been around a lot of babies but I was surprised at how heavy he was for only being six weeks old. Ben wasn’t all that smaller than Coby Holt, despite the age difference.
“He’s huge. Ninety-fifth percentile on the growth charts.”
“Oh, my,” I said. “So, what’s the party for? I didn’t get a chance to ask Nick when we got here.” The unique banner had me wondering.
“Maisy and I were kidnapped a year ago and we decided that instead of hiding out at home, we’d throw a party.”
Nick’s overreaction to my unarmed security system made more sense now.
She gave me a mischievous grin. “Jess was none too happy with our party idea. Ever since Ben was born, he won’t hardly let me do a thing. But I’ve been going stir-crazy on maternity leave so Maisy and I just planned the party while he was at work. Then this morning I went to the station and told him to bring home some drinks and tell his friends.”
I giggled. The way that she’d outmaneuvered her husband’s overprotectiveness was entertaining.
“Emmeline,” Jess said at my side.
“Hi, Jess. Congratulations on little Ben here. How are you?”
“Doing good. Be even better if my wife would listen to me.”
“Not happening, Sheriff,” Gigi said.
“Been meaning to swing by the school and talk to you. Care if we do it now?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
“Gotta talk about those shoes,” he said.
My nose scrunched up and I didn’t try to hide my grimace.
As I had expected, I’d received many, many calls from concerned parents after giving my students shoes before Thanksgiving. Other than Mason’s parents, the Clearys were the only ones who I hadn’t talked to yet.
With every call, I had told the parents the truth. Or a vague version of the truth.
That a wealthy friend from New York donated them for my first class of students. It had actually been Principal Garcia’s idea not to admit that I had personally purchased the shoes. He hadn’t wanted to create any animosity with other teachers or draw attention to Mason’s home life. I had been glad for his advice, and so far, my story had worked.
But I had a feeling that a vague half-truth would not satisfy the Jamison County sheriff.
“I’m sorry if it offended you,” I told them.
“Not offended. I figured there was something going on when Rowen came home and told us about her friend Mason. The stuff she’s been telling me isn’t good. Talked to Nick today and got the scoop,” Jess said.
“I think you buying all the kids shoes just so he could have a pair was wonderful,” Gigi said.
“Thanks. No one knows that was the real reason. I’ve kind of lied to everyone else. I just don’t want people prying into Mason’s life. He doesn’t need that.”
“I’ll start digging,” Jess said. “But before I do, wanted to see what you know.”
“Not much.” I frowned. “He’s probably told Rowen more than he has me. I asked him a couple of weeks ago what his house was like and he shut down.”
“Hmm,” he muttered.
“Principal Garcia said that before we could go to the authorities, we needed to have a good foundation of documentation. That’s why I haven’t come to you yet.”
“I’ll mak
e sure he knows you didn’t come to me. That I approached you,” Jess said. “But Garcia forgets we don’t live in LA. He doesn’t need to build a case before I’ll look into a situation. Especially when it comes to kids.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been about Mason.”
“You’re a good teacher, Emmeline,” Gigi said. “I’m glad Rowen has you.”
A huge smile spread across my face and I turned it on Ben still sleeping in my arms.
I wasn’t sure what would happen, but a part of me hoped that I would still be in Prescott by the time he was old enough to be in my class.
After our conversation about Mason, Gigi and I went back to visit with the women and snack from the abundant food trays. Maisy and I hit it off right away. She was sweet and energetic and I loved hearing her stories from the Fan Mountain Inn, Prescott’s one and only motel, where she worked as the manager.
The Clearys’ garage party ranked in my top five best social events, and it wasn’t even over yet.
Gigi was just finishing a story of how the garage was built to replace an old barn where she had been bitten by a rattlesnake when I felt Nick’s heat at my back.
Craning my neck over my shoulder, I asked, “Are there snakes by my house?”
“Nope. You’re too far up into the mountains. It’s too cold.”
“Good.” Just hearing Gigi’s story gave me chills. I was not a fan of reptiles or bugs.
“Come on, Emmy. We’re playing pool,” Nick said. “You too, Maze. You’re Silas’s partner.”
“I don’t know how to play pool,” I said as we walked toward the table at the back of the garage.
“That’s okay. Maisy isn’t any good so me and Silas will carry you ladies.”
“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m getting better,” Maisy said.
“Sure you are. That’s why Silas told me to beg Gigi to play with him and only take you as a last resort.”
“He did not,” Maisy said.
“He did.”
“Silas Grant!” Maisy shouted. She took off to where all the men were talking and smacked a blond man in the arm before transferring Coby to a mountainous man with dark hair and a thick brown beard.
He was the only man in the group who stood taller than Jess, and his size was intimidating. The square angles of his jaw gave him a stern look, but when he settled Coby on one bulky bicep, his whole face relaxed.
When Nick and I reached the group, he started introductions.
“Emmy, this is Beau Holt,” he said. “Beau works for the Forest Service and leads the Search and Rescue team in Jamison County.”
Maybe it was the three glasses of wine I’d already had, I don’t know, but my normal polite greeting didn’t immediately come out of my mouth. Instead, when I tipped my head way, way back to look at Beau’s face, I said something out loud that was meant to stay inside my head.
“You are not small.” I slapped my hand over my rude mouth and stared at Beau with wide eyes. “Sorry!” I said through my fingers.
A huge smile broke out over Beau’s face and the entire circle erupted in laughter.
Nick chuckled. “This is Silas Grant.” Silas was the blond man that Maisy had smacked. His lean, muscled frame was similar to Nick’s though Silas stood an inch or two taller.
After shaking his hand, I turned to the last man in the group. I didn’t need Nick to introduce me. After hearing Sara’s story about meeting her husband in a burn unit, I knew this was Milo. He had a wrinkled burn scar on the top of his forehead and another under the side of his jaw.
“Milo Phillips,” he said.
“Emmeline Austin.”
“Emmeline, I heard you went temporarily insane a few years back and married this asshole,” Silas said, jerking his chin toward Nick.
“You’re so fucking funny,” Nick muttered.
“Are we playing pool or what?” Maisy asked.
“We’re playing,” Silas said.
“Coby, can you stay with Uncle Beau?”
“Yeah,” Beau answered for him.
My eyes darted back and forth between the Holt siblings. I never would have guessed that tiny, blond Maisy was the dark-haired giant’s sister.
“What are we betting?” Nick asked Silas.
“Dinner?” Maisy suggested. “We could all meet up at the café one night. Loser pays?”
“Deal,” Nick and Silas agreed simultaneously.
Five minutes later, the balls on the table were spread out everywhere and Nick was leaning over my shoulder, teaching me how to line up a shot.
Fifteen minutes later, I was getting annoyed at Nick’s incessant hovering. Every time I got ready to shoot, he’d interrupt me and tell me to hit a different ball. I’d been slowly hinting for him to let me try but he wasn’t hearing it.
Finally, I’d had enough. “Would you leave me alone? You’re driving me crazy. You are a rotten teacher!”
“What? No, I’m not. I’m an awesome teacher. You’re just a bad student. That’s not the best shot.”
I felt the temper rise in my chest, but before I could snap again, I took a couple of deep breaths and reminded myself that the entire party was watching our game. “Your ego is overinflated. Can you just let me try my own way? Who cares if I miss?”
“I do. We’re winning.”
“Go away.”
“Hit the green stripe. Not the blue one.”
“No.”
“Emmy,” he growled. “Green stripe.”
“You are pushing me, Nick. You won’t like it when I push back.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?”
I turned my gaze to our audience. “Did you guys know that Nick has an obsession with male strip shows? His favorite Las Vegas show is Thunder From Down Under. He loves it so much that he made me go to it before we got married.”
The garage exploded with laughter. Silas moved to Nick’s side and clamped onto one of his shoulders as he bent over howling, shaking Nick’s body.
“I love her!” Silas yelled.
I aimed a smug smile at Nick as he glared down at me. “Blue stripe. Or they learn about how you squeal like a little girl when you’re riding a roller coaster.”
The laughter in the room got even louder as Nick fought a grin. He bent to speak into my ear. “That’s just not even true, Emmy.”
“Blue stripe,” I repeated.
“Fine. Hit whatever ball you want,” he said
I missed the shot but didn’t care. With a smile on my face, I leaned against the back wall while Maisy took her turn.
“You two spar more than Jess and Gigi. It’s pretty fucking entertaining. I can’t wait for dinner,” Silas said.
“Thanks,” I said.
Silas’s words confirmed something I had begun to realize these last few weeks. Nick and I had that easy banter I had longed for. Something I had envied about Jess and Gigi. Being with Nick was comfortable. We fit together and I could be myself around him.
I’d had years of practice pretending to be the Emmeline Austin that New York high society had expected me to be. That Emmeline only said what was proper and polished. Her manners were impeccable. Her proclaimed opinions were never too strict or off-center.
My father had expected me to be that Emmeline. My friends. Even Logan to some extent.
I did not like that Emmeline.
But not once during the last two weeks of dinners with Nick had I felt the need to mask my emotions or stifle my opinions. He liked me just as I was. No pretense. And the real me flourished around him.
Everything I had ever wanted in a relationship I had with my husband.
How ironic.
The same day that I realized maybe Nick and I had a future was the same day my divorce papers had arrived in the mail.
Blaring sirens filled my ears. The sound was so loud, I shot out of bed and immediately scrambled for my phone on the nightstand, wincing as the light illuminated the dark room. Fumbling to dial 9-1-1, I rushed to my w
alk-in closet and closed myself in.
“What is your emergency?” the dispatcher answered.
“My alarm system just went off,” I whispered.
My heart was thundering in my chest and I was having trouble breathing. Going from a dead sleep to instantly awake, and terrified, was wreaking havoc on my body.
“What’s your name?”
“Emmeline Austin,” I said.
“Hold on. Let me get a patrol car dispatched.” His voice was in the background but I couldn’t make out his words.
A beeping rang in my ears and I pulled my phone away to see I had another incoming call. Most likely it was my security company. Their protocol was to try and reach me first and then notify the police if I didn’t answer.
Not long after the beeping stopped, the dispatcher came on the line. “Ms. Austin, I’ve got your security company on the other line. Are you in a safe location?” he asked.
“I’m hiding in my closet.”
“Good. Stay there. The patrol car is on its way and should be there soon. I’ll let the officer know where you are hiding. Don’t leave the closet. When the deputy gets there, he’ll come to you. His name is Sam Eklund.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Hold on while I let your security company go,” he said. I was glad he didn’t hang up on me. It made me feel like I wasn’t totally alone during one of the scariest moments of my life.
The adrenaline coursing through my blood was making my body shake. I wrapped my free arm around my knees to keep them from knocking together while my mind started racing, thinking of all the possibilities for my alarm going off.
Was someone trying to break into my house? What if the intruder was making his way to my bedroom?
Huddled in the corner, I closed my eyes and focused on listening. If I could hear my intruder before he reached the closet, maybe I could at least tell the dispatcher before something bad happened to me. The blasting alarm, the dispatcher’s typing and labored breathing were all I heard.
Every passing minute felt like an hour. Any minute now, I imagined that a dark figure would throw open my closet door and find my hiding place. I mentally started preparing myself to fight. Maybe if I put up enough of a struggle, I could delay my attacker long enough that the sheriff’s deputy would arrive in time to save me.