A Far Cry from Home

by Peri Elizabeth Scott

  He flinched at the sarcasm in her voice. “And what of all your belongings? Everything in The Inn?”

  Tugging her hand free of his, she shook her head. “There’s nothing there I want. If you’re concerned I took anything—”

  “For God’s sake!” He grasped her elbow and shook her a little. She nearly gasped at his touch. “I don’t give a damn about any of that stuff, Regan. But it belongs to you. It was in your family.”

  “Your family, actually. And it’s all old and about to crumble.” Like her heart. She stiffened her spine. “I’m counting myself lucky that I can walk away.”

  “You really mean that.” His brows arched into his brow, surprise and something that looked suspiciously like relief emblazoned on his face. She had the uncomfortable feeling he was letting her in, allowing her to see all of his emotions, but she couldn’t handle it.

  “I do. There’s nothing for me there, like I said. I can’t take the land but the developer maybe will take care of it.” She shrugged, wondering how long she could remain upright against the sense of loss.

  “We need to talk,” he insisted. “I know you’re upset but I can explain.” His cell chimed with a little ditty she thought she should recognize, and he cursed, dragging it out of his pocket.

  “I need to take this. I’ll meet you at Sally’s. Okay?”

  Taking the opportunity to clamber into the car, she said, “Sure.” The lie tasted sour on her tongue, but she wasn’t interested in explanations. Self-preservation was at the top of her list.

  She watched him step onto the sidewalk, his shoulder providing slight privacy as he hunched over his phone but she heard the feminine ring to the voice. Not giving a thought to how many women he had on his string at any particular time, she buckled Oscar up, with a little more difficulty this time. The cat had spotted his next favorite person and wanted to visit.

  “We have to go, animal. And that there is the enemy. I was right in the beginning to think so and you should take my word for it.”

  She reversed out of her angled parking spot and drove in the direction of Sally’s. The sip of coffee at the realtor’s office hadn’t done a lot to ease her hunger or her thirst but she wasn’t having any kind of chat with Maddox. She couldn’t begin to get her head around what he might say. Or how she might react…

  As soon as she was out of sight, she circled the block and cut over to pick up the road to the interstate. There was the big gas station not too far along and she’d fill the tank and grab some coffee and a processed muffin there. Maddox would go to the bakery and be pissed that she hadn’t done as he asked, and then have tacit permission to do whatever he needed to do.

  And if her hands clutched the steering wheel in order to stay balanced and sane even to the bare minimum, that was her business. And if she could barely swallow against the agony of leaving, it was because she was saying goodbye to the twenty-one years of her familiar life. It had nothing to do with Maddox. Chapter closed. Finis.

  She blessed the full-service station and hustled in to pay for the gas and get her beverage and snacks before Oscar became anxious, climbing back behind the wheel in record time. The pale, wan face in the rearview, dominated by smudged, blue eyes indeed belonged to her, but there was nothing recognizable about it. Maybe she should change her name as well… Go back to her birth name, a little, abandoned four-year-old child landing up at the group care home.

  Wrenching her thoughts from the past, loath to succumb to making ridiculous comparisons, she focused on the road. She hadn’t gotten an early start, but on a weekday in late summer, the road wasn’t terribly busy and she chased the sun westward. The angle wasn’t such that she had to stare into it and she counted that blessing.

  Chapter Seven

  The front of the bakery was as empty as Regan’s room. Maddox forked his fingers through his hair in exasperation, even though he knew she wouldn’t be here. Her old vehicle wasn’t parked out front, but he had to check anyhow. Thinking about finding her closet empty and all the surfaces cleared still made his gut ache and he swallowed hard.

  “Can I get you anything, Maddox?” The owner’s cheerful voice drew him to the counter.

  “A coffee, thanks, Sally.”

  “Regan with you?” She peered over his shoulder.

  “No.”

  “Still at it, restoring The Inn.” Sally efficiently poured his beverage. “The cinnamon rolls are fresh this morning. You could take a few back for her.”

  “We’re selling.” He’d just shared the news with his mother, who had urged him to be more upfront with Regan only last week.

  “Ah, so she’s accepted it. The only thing people want the area for is a bedroom community. And that’s prime land.”

  “She came to see it was an impossible effort.” He sipped his coffee, wishing he’d made her talk to him last night, blown off his board meeting. Something had changed her mind about The Inn and he wondered if it had to do with the steamy moment amongst the drywall dust.

  He bit back a bitter laugh. He could hope. He knew what had happened for her to leave everything behind. Including him. Because of him.

  “Good for her. Hope you get a good penny for it. Want some of those rolls?”

  He took a dozen and made his way back to the real estate office where Margo was hard at work putting the deal through. She started when he dropped the bakery box on the desk. “Is Regan … gone? I got the feeling when she left it was for someplace other than here.”

  “She is. I need to talk with her.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Maddox. I assumed—”

  He shrugged, striving for calm. “I went behind her back. I can’t blame her for being upset.”

  “Well, she figured out she couldn’t make a go of it and should be grateful you had a plan in place.”

  He arched a brow and Margo flushed. “Okay, women don’t like that kind of thing. Men neither.”

  “See if you can reach her, Margo. Keep trying.” Regan wasn’t answering any of his calls.

  “I will. And you still want me to go ahead with the sale?”

  “Yes. And let me know as soon as you find out where she’s at.”

  “I will,” she promised, her eyes troubled. “What a mess.”

  That coined it. He didn’t think he’d ever been in such a mess before. His mother and sister had intuited that his interest in Regan went far beyond attraction, and he hadn’t denied it. His mom had despaired him ever finding the one, and until Regan, he hadn’t given it much thought.

  He had an explanation to make and some groveling to do, but it was impossible to do either without having her present and accounted for.

  Driving back to The Inn, he viewed it dispassionately and conceded what the place would have meant to someone like Regan, orphaned and then adopted. A home. His family had made his home and he had no doubt his uncle and his wife had tried to do their best by their adopted child, but this place had meant so much more. Until it weighed her down and she couldn’t see past it. At least, he hoped that was what it had been, that he’d done right by her.

  He made short work of packing up and turning off lights, locking up, the usual things one did when one left a place to its own devices. Winter wasn’t that far off but the deal would go through well before then. It pinched to see how much work Regan had accomplished, only to have it all come down, but at least the grounds would survive, mostly. She’d signed the deal that had taken the trees and creek into account.

  Scowling at the memory of her insisting he be reimbursed for his investment, not to mention the utilities, he impatiently checked his phone. He kept calling, hardly expecting her to answer, but giving it a go regardless. That Margo was inspired to reach Regan, he didn’t doubt, but he hated not being in control. His not-related-by-blood sweet cousin had turned his world upside down and stolen that control. Maybe if he’d lost it when she’d responded to his subtle cues…

  Hindsight being twenty-twenty, he quit thinking, hoping she’d understand once they had a
chance to talk. He threw his luggage into the back of the Mercedes and decided to head to the closest airport. He’d charter a flight if need be.

  Chapter Eight

  Oscar seemed to appreciate her choice of classic rock with a sprinkle of country, and alternately stared out the window or napped. The one rest stop she took suited him as well and he willingly traipsed along on his leash. She stared off into the distance while he found a likely spot for his toilet, and gave him privacy. At no time did she think about what had transpired that morning.

  The caffeine boost kept her alert until dusk began to gather, and she consulted her phone GPS to find somewhere to stop for the night. The cell came awake on a blast of sound, startling both her and her cat. She risked a glance to see a number of texts and missed calls, the bulk of them bearing Maddox’s contact number. Crap.

  Ignoring them, she decided on a larger city in the hope there would be an animal-friendly hotel. She gassed up again on the outskirts of Buffalo and parked on the side of the lot to try her luck at making a reservation. Scoring one that didn’t require an enormous pet deposit, she quashed her disappointment at not being able to see Niagara Falls while she was near, but her limited funds were dwindling fast and her lone, personal credit card had to be held in reserve.

  Stress and exhaustion knotted her neck and shoulders when she finally pulled into the parking lot in front of the modest building, pleased to have spotted a grocery store a half block away. It was located in what one would consider the extreme fringe of the city, but she had no interest in fighting traffic.

  The clerk didn’t raise a brow when she staggered in, bearing Oscar in his carrier, her cat expressing his discontent in low growls and muttered wails. Getting him into it had taken a significant effort and she tugged her sleeves down to cover the evidence.

  “Help you?”

  “I booked a room.” She gave her name and credit card, but paid in cash, her wallet shrinking before her eyes.

  Obtaining a key, the fellow came around the desk to helpfully heft Oscar and carry him the short distance to her single room. She thanked him, hoping he didn’t expect a tip, and then left the cat secured while she retrieved the covered litter box and his food from the vehicle. She felt like a Sherpa, burdened for the scaling of some high mountain.

  Scanning the room with a practiced eye, she put it on a par with The Inn, despite the marked differences, and while it was a depressing thought, she consoled herself with the fact the outside surroundings were nowhere near comparable. Not that anyone would care in the city, she supposed.

  Freed, Oscar paced the room before investigating the litter box. She swore he scowled, but made use of it while she organized his dinner. The water from the tap might upset him, so she poured a small bowl from the bottle she’d filled at The Inn.

  He stalked to his food and tucked in while she cleaned up his toilet and quietly let herself back out of the room, carrying the little bag along.

  “Is it safe to walk to that grocery store?”

  The clerk visibly considered. Maybe people didn’t walk around here. “Should be.”

  She ended up taking the car after tossing the poop bag into the dumpster. It wasn’t a long distance, but she figured to stock up on nonperishable items for the trip. There was a small fridge in her room so she could have her complimentary coffee the way she wanted in the morning, heavy on the creamer, and it wouldn’t hurt to get some fruit.

  Shopping with an eye to bargains and no waste, she parted with another thirty dollars, but it would be far cheaper than stopping in restaurants along the way. When she checked out and got back to the motel, she carried in the bag she’d sorted out to utilize in the morning, leaving the rest in the back seat. Oscar was thrilled to see her, no doubt fearing he’d been left to contend alone with the dreaded litter box and the unprepossessing bedspread and matching drapes.

  “I need my dinner,” she informed him, pulling open a can of her secret weakness—ravioli, five for four dollars.

  She dumped it into a mug and stuck it in the microwave to heat, pleased she had purchased a small package of plastic utensils. The skewers accompanying the little coffee pods and plastic packets of dried creamer and sugar would have made for entertaining dining.

  “I’ll eat better tomorrow,” she promised the cat, who was nosing the empty can. “I just needed a little comfort food.”

  Devouring the tomatoey pasta, she washed it down with a few swigs of juice, another sale item, and succored her complaining belly. She eyed the little bag of carrots before tossing them in the fridge along with the apples and creamer, wishing she’d given in to temptation and bought the damn chocolate.

  At least one more night in a motel, and gas and unexpected expenses would probably break her, but she’d make it. She had to. And once she was in Montana, Gloria would carry her until the proceeds of the sale came through. She forced herself to see the future in a positive light.

  Taking a shower, she let herself release the tension she’d carried all day and sagged against the tile. Cheek pressed on the unforgiving surface, she wondered if she was doomed to weep beneath a stream of water for the rest of her life. Her grief was all mixed up with losing her dad and her home, leaving The Falls and seeing this side of Maddox. And not seeing him again.

  Using the minute bar of soap and tiny shampoo bottle, she cleaned up and got ready for bed. Before she and Oscar settled into the unfamiliar mattress, she texted Gloria about arriving in a couple of days and almost instantly received a text back that made her feel reassured. Her mother’s old friend was as welcoming today as yesterday and Regan knew she had a port in this particular storm.

  The messages and voicemails from Maddox she deleted without giving in to her curiosity but did read one of several from Margo.

  Please call me—or Maddox. Before he reports you as a missing person.

  Regan didn’t think that was possible, at least not for seventy-two hours, but better safe than sorry. The idea of being pulled over on the road by a zealous official didn’t appeal. She texted back.

  I’m fine. I have a place to go and a plan for my future. I’ll send you my address once I get there. TX.

  Her real estate agent must have been hovering over her phone.

  Where are you? Are you safe? Can you call me?

  She couldn’t. She didn’t have unlimited calling.

  Stopped for the night in Buffalo.

  If Margo replied, she didn’t know, turning the phone back off and plugging it in to charge. A bite of guilt made her wince. Maddox had purchased the smartphone for her as well, disdaining her old one. All the nice things he’d done for her…

  She left the bathroom light on and partially closed the door, needing some illumination in unfamiliar surroundings. With her luck, she’d dream—about Maddox—and have to face driving all day tired, caffeine boost aside. It took a bit of shifting and punching up the thin pillows, but she got comfortable and drifted into an exhausted sleep, Oscar’s bulk a comforting press against her spine.

  The emphatic knocking on the door yanked her from a surprisingly deep slumber. She started, her cat hissing and taking a leap to the floor. Her heart beat in conjunction with the insistent raps against the panels separating her from whomever was out there.

  Grabbing her phone, she hit the power button, cursing the delay as it slowly lit and booted up. Three-eleven. She had no idea of the address and had forgotten the name of the hotel. How would nine-one-one find her? Where was the desk clerk? “Who is it?”

  “Regan, open up.”

  Oscar stomped over and peered closely at the door, his heavy tail swishing.

  “Regan.” Maddox’s tone was both implacable and supremely annoyed, emotions she hadn’t felt from him before.

  She fumbled with the chain and opened the deadbolt. He didn’t give her any choice as he shouldered his way in and she backed the hell up. Oscar scrambled out from under their feet, hissing his displeasure.

  Dressed in the same shirt and jeans from the mo
rning, stubble graced his firm jaw, a jaw that was set and clenching. His eyes were dark flashes, even in the faint lighting spilling from the bathroom. That thing she recalled in vivid detail from their kiss was back between them again, something that could be dispelled only by the outrage of betrayal.

  She must have been too muddled from sleep to draw on that emotion because her entire being was focused on the man looming over her, betrayal being the least of her concern.

  Oscar now wove between their legs, purring and making those chirruping noises he reserved for his people, and then she was plastered against Maddox, held tightly in his arms.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I only wanted what was best for you and went about it all wrong.”

  Unable to sort out his statement, she concentrated on his scent and proximity. He was hard all over, a tall, muscled figment of her current reality and she nestled closer. She’d never thought to see him again.

  Easing her head back, she peered into his face, knowing she was an unprepossessing sight, her hair a tangled mess, clad in a pair of shrunken pajamas. But from the look in Maddox’s eyes, it didn’t matter—the same look she’d seen before, only times a hundred.

  He dipped his head and took her mouth, effectively short-circuiting any rational thought, as she threw caution to the wind. They’d shared that one momentous kiss and it had been but a hint. Her lips parted to allow him access, welcoming the lance of his questing tongue.

  He tasted of coffee and an earthiness that had to be all Maddox. Stealing her breath and overwhelming her senses, he kissed her until she sagged. Maybe it was her exhaustion, the shock of him being there, and her stupid underlying longing, but she was powerless to object. She wanted this and would face any consequences later.

  Scooping her up, he settled her on the rumpled bed, lowering his big form to blanket her. She stared up into his gaze, struggling to interpret the myriad of emotions that tumbled there. Passion, desire, and … something softer.