“You understand.” Of course she understood. Of course Amy would be the one to offer to smooth the rocks from his path.
“So you see where I’m going with this.”
“Not really.”
The incredulous look she gave him made him feel like a jerk and a fool. “Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it. We have to stage a showdown.”
“A showdown?”
“A coup. An incest intervention.”
“An incest intervention is not a thing.”
“It is now.” She actually laughed. An encroaching emptiness was taking over him, and she was filling it with her laughter. “And it’s exactly what we need. Think about it—if Jake and I run away together, slipping off into the night, we can set it up so you’re the one who stops us. Mr. Montgomery will be so grateful that he’ll have no choice but to uphold his side of the bargain, even if the truth has to come to light in the process.”
“You want us to force his hand.”
“Exactly. It’s the best way for you to get your life back and for me to finally be able to start mine. You know I don’t have the guts to approach him myself, so this is the push I need. And if we plan it big enough, raise the stakes, maybe we can even find a way for Mr. Montgomery to get you a promotion. What’s better than driving stunt cars? Stunt tanks? Bear wrestling? I have no idea what kind of hierarchy you people operate under.”
“Amy.” Her name came out harsh and cold, as it always did when he was overwhelmed by her. “I appreciate the gesture, but there’s no way it would work.”
“Why not?” She shifted to face him, the shirt lifting up her thigh so far he couldn’t help himself from reaching out and gripping the soft, tensile strength of her leg. “It’s win-win. You get to be the hero and go back to Hollywood on a white horse. Mr. Montgomery will be forced to come clean. No one gets hurt. It’s what you’ve wanted right from the start.”
Yes, but was it what he wanted now? Looking at Amy, seeing her bright smile, realizing what she was doing for him, he wanted to cast all the rest of that crap aside and tell her the only thing he wanted in this world was her.
But he wasn’t sure it was true. He didn’t know if she was enough.
Even under the best scenario of life in Ransom Creek—marching up to Mr. Montgomery’s office tomorrow, telling him where to stick his job, picking up shifts at the gas station on Fourth to make ends meet—Ryan would still be surrounded by the Montgomerys every day of his life. They’d still control Amy. And by extension, they’d still control him.
But what was the alternative?
“If this works—if I agree—you do realize what this will mean, right?”
Him, leaving. Him, going home. Him, never setting foot in this place again. It would mean the end of them.
Her smile only burned brighter. “Of course I do. It means you get to do the thing you love most in this world.”
“It’ll never work, Amy. It’s too crazy, too complex. The best thing to do here is come clean—”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” She rose to her feet, her legs unfolding and holding her firm.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what happens next?”
“Because I don’t really need your permission to put this plan in action, and you know it. All I have to do is grab my favorite trench coat over there and head back to the Manor. I have it on good authority that Jake is home tonight. I’ll just saunter on up to his room, tug on the belt, and...”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He was on his feet in front of her in an instant.
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” She gestured over her body. “Everything I need to pull this off is right here and ready to go. And who knows where things might lead after that? He and I could have our very own Flowers in the Attic moment. I’m getting all aquiver just thinking about it.”
Ryan was forced into a reluctant laugh—the kind only Amy seemed able to elicit. “Now you’re riling me up on purpose. You’re some kind of messed up, you know that?”
“I do.” She reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “But I really think this could work. Why shouldn’t we make this push to get you what you want? You know you’d do the same for me.”
He stared at her, his throat aching as he struggled to keep the words in and somehow keep breathing at the same time. If anyone had asked him to do this a few months ago, he’d have jumped at the chance. Hell—that was exactly what he had done, pushing those pesky things like morals and decent human behavior and Amy’s feelings aside in pursuit of his own goals.
That was what he did. Lost himself in his own vices, numbed reality until it was easy to bypass.
“Ta-da!” she said, triumphant. “I can practically see you coming around to my side of things. I think I might have a gift for this evil plotting stuff.”
Seeing her standing there, unyielding and resolute and so fucking beautiful he’d never deny her anything she asked for? Yeah. He could see how that evil part might be true.
“You’ve got me backed into a corner here, and you know it. You’re a lot more like the rest of the Montgomerys than you realize.”
She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m pretty sure you meant that as an insult, Ryan, but I’ll take it. It sounds an awful lot like a yes.”
It wasn’t. But it wasn’t a no either.
Chapter Eighteen
“I really don’t see why we have to tell him at all.” Amy barred the stairwell door. “The fewer people who know about this, the better. And I’m pretty confident I can handle him. Don’t forget—I’ve known this guy since before I started walking. He won’t cross any lines unless I let him.”
Ryan stared at Amy, wishing he could give in to the urge to lift her by the arms and forcibly remove her from the door. How could someone so sweet be so annoyingly stubborn?
“Did it ever occur to you to consider Jake’s feelings on the subject? Speaking as a man who’s benefitted from the pleasure of your company, I’d say it’s needlessly cruel to throw you at his head only to yank you right back again.”
“Ohh. I get it. You like him.”
“What?” He felt his ears grow warm. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She took a step forward, her eyes wide and lit with laughter. “You do. You totally care about his feelings.”
“Refusing to stoop to his level isn’t the same as caring. I never liked this plan of yours in the first place—I’m not going to add crushing a man’s romantic hopes to my growing list of sins.”
Amy’s arms twined around his neck. “You like him.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Jake and Ryan, sitting in a tree.”
“Stop it right now.”
She tightened her hold. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
“I can still back out, you know.”
“No, you can’t.” She brought her mouth to his, sealing his fate. “You’re too far in it now. You’re too close to the finish line.”
Don’t remind me. He’d always felt a little dejected at the end of a drive, knowing the exhilaration of the chase was nearing a close and that the only thing waiting for him at home was another party, another bottle of Jack. This drive’s end felt all the worse because he was going into it with his eyes open and his head clear.
“We could still back out,” he suggested, almost pleadingly. “Confront Mr. Montgomery head-on. Stop playing these games.”
“Fine.”
“Really?” Relief warred with panic in his chest. He wasn’t sure which sentiment shamed him the most. “I can go see him right now?”
“No, I mean fine as in you can tell Jake about the plan.” She sighed and dropped her arms. “You’re probably right about it being needlessly cruel. But promise me you won’t tell him about the other thing.”
<
br /> “The other thing, meaning...?”
“You know,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to say anything to him or Monty or Jenna about being siblings until we know for sure whether or not it’s true. Can you at least give me that?”
He reached up and traced the line of her lips, which were pulled into a frown. He might not ever be able to understand why it was she hated the idea of confrontation this much, but he knew how much her pain affected him. And that was enough.
“Okay. I promise.”
“Thank you.” She kissed his thumb, which he’d been having a hard time retracting from her mouth. “And let him down easy, okay? Buy him an ice cream or a pony or something to soften the blow.”
Yeah. Ice cream. That was what every man wanted in a situation like this.
* * *
The top of the tallest tower of Montgomery Manor had a roofwalk that was purported to provide a view all the way to Hartford.
Ryan had never been up there before—there was no need for a man who rolled around under car engines to raise himself up so high—but he’d been told Jake had a habit of taking refuge up there. Probably to hide from his father or work on his tan.
He climbed up the ladder access panel and poked his head up. Sure enough, there was Jake—though he was neither lounging nor hiding.
Thwack.
“Nice hit.” Ryan climbed the rest of the way through and glanced around. He couldn’t see any cities in the distance, but that was one hell of a view. Patchwork fields in green and gold, the surreal blue of a late spring sky. There was a reason rich people built things like this. “Four iron?”
Jake didn’t seem surprised to see him. He didn’t look up from his position on the far end of the walk, where a portion of the railing had been cut away and replaced with a spiky patch of fake green turf. “Six. You play?”
“Me? Nah.” Ryan folded his hands under his armpits and watched as Jake nudged a ball into place with his toe and lined up for another spectacular swing. Thwack. The ball flew in a wide arc up and over the hillside, so far it would be almost impossible to find again. But then, why would he bother collecting his balls when he was done? He’d probably just buy more. “I’ve always lacked the finesse.”
“Oh?” Jake said innocently. “And here I thought you had plenty of that. Enough to win the girl, at any rate.”
Ryan laughed. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Jake slid the golf club into a bag resting against the white wood slats of the house’s exterior and slowly removed the golf glove from his left hand, never once losing eye contact with Ryan. “My pride, maybe. And my plans. But I would have never played along in the first place if I’d thought she was serious. I wouldn’t have hurt her.”
“I know.” And oddly enough, he did. He might have started off hating Jake, but the man had proven himself a good sport and an even better loser—two qualities never to overlook in a foe. “What would you say if I could help you make up that second one?”
“My plans?”
“Yes. That is, assuming your plans still include thwarting your father.”
“They always do.”
“I should probably mention it would be at the cost of the former.”
A glint in Jake’s eye—such an odd combination of humor and anger—flashed. “I’m living at home, cut off from my income, not even allowed to take a car out without the chauffeur’s permission. You think I’m worried about my pride at this point?”
“Fair enough. All we need is for you to go on another date with Amy.”
“We need that?”
He ignored the sarcasm, so thick he could taste it. Of course no man with a modicum of decency or self-respect would allow the woman he cared about to put herself in this position. But Ryan didn’t have decency. Or self-respect. Or any freaking control over her. He’d relinquished that the moment he agreed to this plan, the second he put his own desires in front of hers.
“This time, it’ll just be the two of you going solo—but don’t worry. The plan is for me to come in and rescue her before you have a chance to get your evil clutches in.”
“Do I get to ask why we’re doing all this?”
“No.”
“But it’ll make my dad mad?”
“He’ll be livid.”
Jake’s smile spread slowly. “I can feel myself warming to the idea already. But there’s a little something I’d like for you to do for me in return, Ryan the Car Man.”
Fuck. Of course there was. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Why can’t anyone in your family do a man a favor without having to strike a bargain first?”
Jake flashed his teeth and laughed, gesturing for Ryan to lead the way down off the roofwalk. “How do you think we got so rich in the first place? Not even the Virgin Mary gets free room and board at the Montluxe. We’d have been sure to get the rights to her firstborn ahead of time.” He dropped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder as he started to move down the ladder. “But don’t worry so much—I think you might actually like this one.”
Ha. Ryan wasn’t counting on it.
* * *
“I don’t understand.” Ryan stood looking down at the frame of a Triumph TR250—stripped and rusty, but fully intact. It had to be worth about five grand even in this condition. “Where’d you get this?”
Jake ran his hand over the spot that used to be a windshield but now showcased nothing but an empty frame. “Oh, I salvaged it from my dad’s garage years ago. He sometimes buys up old lots from dealers or collectors who need fast cash—he picks out the gems and sells off the rest.”
“Yeah, I know. He did that last year. It’s where he got his ’54 Bentley. But what the hell am I supposed to do with it?”
Jake looked at him as though he were a few gallons short of a full tank. “Fix it.”
Ryan fell into a short laugh. “Just like that? You want me to change the oil and give it a tune-up? You’re insane if you think this is going to take anything but six months of labor and ten thousand dollars in parts.” He found himself circling the frame, making an assessment of what it might need. Even six months and ten thousand dollars was pushing it.
The car was housed in a dilapidated barn so far on the edge of the Montgomery property he wasn’t even sure they were on the family land anymore. Rusty rakes and a pile of broken wood boxes arranged in a circle were the only other things inside unless you counted the dirt and nesting bats.
“So you can’t do it,” Jake said flatly.
“I didn’t say that.” He wasn’t all that familiar with the TR250, a sixties model most noted for its tiny frame and curricle-like convertible top, but there had to be fewer than a thousand of them circulating in the world. Parts would be tricky to come by, though he might be able to cross over from the more popular Triumph models. It was doable—provided a man had the means and the motivation.
“How did you get this out here?” he asked, perplexed. “And why?”
“I had it towed. Dad’s never been interested in fixing up the cars—he only likes to own them and show them off. Possession and pride, nothing more. You know.”
He did. Regular oil changes and twenty-five miles an hour every day of the week to keep things in shape.
“He said I could have it if I managed to remove it from his garage without fucking it up. So I did. And it’s been sitting here ever since.”
Ryan examined Jake carefully. “So why fix it now? Why me?”
“It’s not some dastardly plot to put you in the middle of me and my dad, if that’s what you’re thinking. He knows it’s out here.” Jake shrugged and turned to walk out the barn door. “I thought you might enjoy the challenge. You seem bored out of your mind in this place, and it’s a sweet car I wouldn’t mind driving, that’s all. Forget I mentioned it.”
“No, I—” Ryan stilled
Jake with one hand. Jake raised an eyebrow at the physical contact but didn’t pull away. “I do appreciate the gesture. It’s just...”
Jake waited, motionless while Ryan struggled to find the right words. “No worries, Car Man. I’ll still play the villain so you can rescue Amy. This one comes with no strings.”
“It’s not that.” And it wasn’t. He looked back over the car, feeling the thrum of anticipation in his veins. He would love to restore this car. In this place where money was no object and he had nothing but time on his hands, there was no limit to what he could do to finish it. Sure, it wouldn’t be his car, but at least he’d be building something, working toward a tangible goal. And Jake wouldn’t pansy around the block in that car. He’d floor it. Hell, he might even let Ryan borrow it sometimes.
But he wasn’t staying in Ransom Creek. The whole point of this plan was to free him from obligations to this family. Not add to them.
“Ask me again,” Ryan said quickly. “Next week. If you still want me to do this for you the same time next week, ask again.”
Jake straightened the cuffs of his sleeves. “Why? Will your answer be any different?”
“No. But your question might.” He angled his head toward the door, tearing himself from the car and the promise it contained. “Come on. It’s time to go tell Amy the good news. Though I should probably warn you she didn’t want to let you in on the plan in the first place. She was going to use you and toss you aside without ever saying a word.”
“And I would’ve let her.” Jake placed a hand over his heart and gave a mock sigh. “The things I do for that girl. She’s had everyone in my family wrapped around her little finger for years.”
“Even your dad?” Ryan couldn’t help asking.
Jake looked at him askance. “You really can’t tell? Especially my dad.”
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