Atonement: The Lonely Ridge Collection

by Lyz Kelley

Her old self would have made excuses, told him everything was fine, or feigned innocence. He was the most amazing man she’d ever met, and she wasn’t about to let him take on her demons. She needed to learn how to become the person she wanted to be. To grow, she needed space and time.

  Why did life have to be unpredictable?

  Fate’s timing sucked.

  Jacob got up from his chair, walked two steps, then swooped her into his arms.

  She clutched her coffee to her torso. “What are you doing?”

  He sat down in her Adirondack chair. “There. That’s better. You were too far away.” He tightened his grip to ensure she wouldn’t fall. “I bet I know what you’re thinking.”

  “How could you know?” she pressed a hand against his chest, but he held her tight.

  “Just let me hold you. I’ll let you go in a minute.” He reached for his coffee cup and took a sip. “First I want you to tell me why you’re scared.”

  She gasped softly, her eyes wide. “Why would you think I’m scared?” She set her coffee on the table, no longer wanting to add more bitterness to her already churning stomach.

  He whispered into her ear. “You always clench your fist when you get scared.”

  She opened her fingers and pressed them flat against her thighs. “You’re too observant for your own good, Mr. Reyes.”

  “It comes from studying the way humans move. The goal is to create realism in my games.”

  He gently nudged her with his shoulder. “Now, will you tell me what’s wrong, or will I have to take you down and dump you in my pool and not let you out until you tell me?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He leaned forward, and she was up and over his shoulder in a matter of seconds as he walked inside the house.

  “Put me down.” Fear choked off her air. She beat his back with her fists. “Stop. Put me down.” Petrified of what was coming next, she froze.

  Noooooo. The room grew hazy.

  She blinked, and blinked again.

  Her hair dangled in front of her face.

  She let it fall.

  A high-pitched whimper, echoed in her head.

  She blinked, trying to focus.

  His muscles went slack, and her body shifted. A chill registered when her feet touched the tile.

  Her body began to vibrate.

  Her mind turned inward.

  Warm hands tugged her stiff arms away from her chest.

  “Jeezus, Rachelle.” Jacob took a couple of steps back, his hand up, fingers splayed, out of her safety zone. “I’m sorry. I should have known.”

  Shivers sent goose bumps skidding around her skin. Her fury erupted as rage consumed her. Adrenaline pulses of outrage shot through every vein.

  “Should have known what?” She staggered forward, and shoved him back. “That I’m broken. That I’m screwed up? That I don’t know who I am?”

  “I was playing, and I crossed the line.” He sank down on the leather couch and looked up at her. “I’m not the bad guy here. Your father,” he rubbed his palms down his legs, “he’s the one who should have protected you. Instead he hurt you.” His knees bounced, going faster and faster. “You don’t know me yet, but you will. And when you do, you’ll understand I’m trying to build something good here. Okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, it’s not okay.” She paced away, then back. “You can’t fix me, just like you can’t fix Larson. You think you can, but you can’t. Each of us, Larson and I, we’re the ones who need to fix what’s wrong. Not you.”

  He thumped a fist on his thigh. “What about last night? Did you think I was trying to fix you then?”

  “No. Last night...last night was beautiful. It was the first time I felt real. I was me, not the idea of who someone else wanted me to be.”

  “Then tell me how I’m trying to fix you.”

  “By giving me a job. Paying for my storyboards. By flying me here.”

  He was up and around the coffee table in two steps. “I didn’t hire you, Ben did. And he hired you based on your qualifications and talents. He made a good hiring decision. Your designs are first rate.

  “Secondly, I pay my top designers a lot more for their storyboards. I offered you half, just to see what you came up with. And I flew you here, not because I felt sorry for you, but because I needed your support in the investor meeting. The investors are careful. They don’t want any copyright challenges. I anticipated them wanting to know where the ideas came from. Who better to answer the questions than the person who came up with them?”

  He took a few steps closer. “Tell me again how I’m trying to fix you.”

  She turned her head to avoid the intensity in his generous eyes. “You’re not.”

  “Say it like you mean it.” His voice sounded sharp, but she wasn’t afraid. He wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be right. I want to hear the conviction in your voice, like when you know a room is designed perfectly. I want you to believe in yourself. No matter what, I want you to know your opinion is the right one.”

  “I’m getting there.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He kept getting closer and closer. He licked his lips, his focus on her intensifying. “You’re a beautiful woman, Rachelle, and when I say beautiful, I mean in here.” He pointed at his chest.

  She reached out a tentative hand and pressed her palm on his skin, letting the beat of his heart pulse into her hand. “You’re the first person who’s ever taken the time to see me.”

  He covered her hand with his, holding it in place until their bodies eased into a synchronized rhythm. “Now that we set some boundaries”—he pressed the tip of his nose to hers and studied her eyes—“let’s get dressed and go get some grub. I’m hungry.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.” He kissed her nose, then walked toward the kitchen, while scratching his butt cheek, his shorts fabric bunching with every swipe.

  “That’s it? Just like that, all’s forgiven?”

  “Unless you want to talk more.” He shrugged. “It’s a guy thing. What can I say? Life is too short to keep regurgitating things. Besides, I told you, I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met before.” He walked back toward her, rubbing his head. “Now go change before I decide to eat you for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast?” She moved a few tentative steps closer. “How about another one of your amazing kisses?”

  “Oh, God. Don’t look at me like that.”

  She slipped her fingers into the tops of his waistband and tugged. “Why?” she laughed, rotated, then backed toward the kitchen island. “You said you wanted breakfast.”

  His eyes snapped open, and he snagged her so fast she didn’t have time to take a breath. “Woman, you’re killing me.” His arms wrapped around her, then loosened. “Get upstairs and take my sweatpants off…now.”

  “No.”

  Automatically he released her, but she tugged him back.

  His eyes darkened, and he bit his lip. “Remember, I’m just a simple guy. Tell me what you want.”

  “Jacob.” She crooked a finger in his underwear band. “Now, please.”

  “Got it.” He backed her against the refrigerator. “One hot breakfast, coming up.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jacob parallel-parked his Mercedes C 63 along the busy urban street.

  Rachelle grabbed her purse and waited while Jacob fed the parking meter. Her shoulders screamed with jittery tension. She shouldn’t be nervous. Her father had taken her to hundreds of business meetings. But instinct told her this meeting would be vastly different. Jacob wanted her to get involved.

  With her permission, Jacob had sent his team her drawings.

  What would they think? They were the experts. Not her.

  “Did you hear back from Larson?”

  “Not yet. Relax. Everything will be fine. The team i
s going to love you. You’re creative. You speak the same language.”

  “Lines and lighting and color selection aren’t exactly a language.”

  “Tell that to Drew, Sketch, and Etch,” He chuckled, and she didn’t get exactly why. “Half the time I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

  “Those are nicknames, right?”

  “Not all. Drew Caster is the lead game designer, and his actual name is Drew. He nicknamed Sketch and Etch, since the three of them work in tandem designing the game architecture. Where there’s one, you can usually find all three huddled together.”

  Just great. She’d watched close-knit groups work, oblivious to everything outside their micro-universe, and rarely letting outsiders join their circle.

  “When you say they’re game architects, what does that mean exactly?”

  “In each level, a programmer places objects and triggers in place for the gamer to find and use. Some objects are put there to confuse the player. Others are used to solve the clues. Some items the player will need to pick up—like a scroll or weapon. These types of items will be used for solving or getting access to other layers. Game architecture takes time and planning, and the design team usually grows close as a result.”

  “Sorry, I still don’t get it.”

  “Okay.” He turned and walked backwards. “Think of a house with a whole bunch of rooms. Each house is decorated differently. In each room, there is a key you need to find, or an activity to complete before you can enter the next room.”

  He must have seen the light bulb flicker on, because he took her hand, and faced the direction they were walking again. “The designers create everything from the room to the objects in the room to the characters. Once the designs are finished, they turn the designs over to the animators, who bring their visions to life.”

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You develop the story, the designers create an environment to support your story, and the animators computerize the information to put the pieces together.”

  “There’s a lot of back and forth, but that’s pretty much it.” His smile reminded her of her brother’s when he was successful in explaining to their father how his complex science project worked.

  “Here we are.” He stopped at the café’s entrance and held the large wooden door open for her. At a table on the deck overlooking the beach, a tall, thin man stood and shoved a pair of sunglasses to the top of his head. He wore a black T-shirt that read, “Just assume I’m never wrong.”

  He fist-knocked Jacob on the shoulder. “Good to see you, man.”

  “You, too. Hey, Drew, this is Rachelle.”

  Drew did a quick scan of Jacob’s hand on her lower back. Eventually his gaze managed to make its way to her face. “Rachelle. Jacob says you have some ideas for the new game.”

  She adjusted the purse on her shoulder and shifted uneasily. “I just painted a few blocks to support his presentation.”

  “Is she for real?” Drew asked, laughing.

  Before Rachelle could figure out what Drew meant, a tall brunette with a teal-colored Mohawk punched Drew in the arm. “Be nice.” She extended her hand. “I’m Sketch, and what this geek is trying to say is, your drawings are sweeeeet.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “That’s Etch. Don’t mind her. She’s got her G-string all twisted this morning.”

  Jacob’s forehead lined with concern. “What’s up with her?”

  Etch’s thumbs moved at lightning speed over her phone screen. With each pause, her frown deepened.

  “Larson.” Sketch dragged the two syllables through the mud. Etch’s follow-up expression communicated a lot, only Rachelle couldn’t interpret the message.

  Jacob walked around the table. “Etch. Tell me.”

  The petite woman with short black hair and a buzzed lightning rod design on one side paused her texting long enough to hit Jacob with a look. “We were supposed to test the equipment for tomorrow’s gig, but Larson’s adding another last-minute feature for the kids. He’s got the source code locked, though, so we can’t compile the game.”

  “What’s he doing?” Jacob turned to Drew for answers.

  “Don’t look at me, man. He’s your problem. You’re the only one he listens to.”

  “Where is he now?” Jacob looked at Etch, his brow rising in question.

  Etch shrugged. “He’s not saying, but he’s not at the office or home. We checked both places before we got here.”

  Jacob slid out a chair and turned to Rachelle. “I’m starved. Let’s have breakfast.” Jacob winked at her, and her cheeks heated, knowing Jacob never got his eggs or pancakes for breakfast. He got her instead. “I’ll deal with Larson later.”

  Drew, Sketch, and Etch looked at each other in turn. Something was up, but she couldn’t read the intense body language. She gave up and sat in the seat Jacob held for her. He leaned close to her eye. “Relax.”

  Relax? Jacob should take his own advice. If he’d been a cat, he’d be a fluff ball, walking sideways and hissing.

  Drew handed her a menu. “We always order the same things when we come here.”

  “Do you have a recommendation?”

  “Any of the fresh-squeezed juices or egg dishes. Everything is made fresh. You can’t go wrong.”

  Thankful for something to do, she studied the menu like she’d have a pop quiz any second. The conversation swirled around her and became background noise until she realized the sound had stopped.

  She lowered the menu to see Sketch’s genuine interest. “What did I miss?”

  Jacob reached and squeezed her hand underneath the table.

  “We were talking about the new game,” Sketch placed her elbows on the table. “I want to hear your idea.”

  “Well, I…” She choked on the fear. Would they like the idea? With her father, she could anticipate the nuances of his moods. She could calculate when to push, hold, and fold. Here she wasn’t sure how to play the game, and had no idea of the stakes.

  Now she was in uncharted territory. So she donned her easy-to-wear princess’s persona and proceeded. “Based on Jacob’s story, I developed a few sample landscapes. After he chose a couple, I created some characters to fit the world. Everything can be changed. It’s not like the investors were looking for the story to be final. They just wanted to know the concept.”

  “Just a few landscapes, she says,” Sketch shoved her silverware set aside. “Best damn ideas we’ve ever seen in over a year, and she acts like she just pulled them out of her butt.”

  Etch twisted her phone around, “This one.” The rainforest appeared vivid and sharp on the tiny screen. “Why did you choose a pyramid and not a dome shape to protect the city?”

  Rachelle gulped down a wad of nerves. “Triangles made sense. I was thinking about energy, and how it needs to build to a fine point before being distributed. I’ve seen domes in drawings, but they’ve never made sense. I read somewhere the pyramids in Egypt were based on some ancient engineering design given to the human race by the aliens to be used to transfer energy.”

  “You believe that shit?” Drew’s skepticism skipped across the table.

  “No, I don’t, but it doesn’t matter what I believe. Helping Jacob meet his deadline—that’s what mattered. I didn’t think, I just painted what I thought would work to support his story.”

  “In other words, you pulled the design out of your butt.”

  Rachelle narrowed her eyes at the too-serious woman. “I’d like to think I pulled the images out of my head, but sure.”

  Jacob rested an arm on the back of her chair and chuckled. “Well done. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a speechless Sketch.”

  Etch shoved her phone forward again and pointed. “What about the waterfall?”

  The groans rounded the table, and Etch blushed the shade of a peony petal.

  “Etch’s question is intuitive.” Rachelle paused to get everyone’s attention. “I put in the waterfall because water is a conductor of electricity, and the wate
r could be another way to protect the city.”

  A grateful smirk replaced Etch’s curious expression.

  A hush fell over the table.

  Drew pointed a finger. “Please tell me she’s under contract.”

  Jacob shifted in his chair. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “Dude, what are you waiting for? You better lock her solid before someone else finds out how good she is.”

  Good? Rachelle crossed her legs beneath the chair. He thought she was good?

  “I’ve been telling you your work is amazing.”

  Amazing? The expressions on their faces were almost identical. A sizzle of satisfaction danced around and did a pirouette in her heart. They liked her work.

  “Ready to order breakfast?” A cute blonde approached the table, and everyone got down to ordering.

  “Etch,” Drew tossed a piece of wadded-up paper at his buddy. “What’s percolating?”

  She reached into her pocket, then grabbed the nearest napkin. Big, sweeping lines were followed by small details, and within minutes a female clad in armor appeared. The busty, narrow-waisted vixen looked so typical, Rachelle groaned inwardly. She’d seen the same things hundreds of time.

  There was no originality.

  No uniqueness.

  Just the same old idea, circling the drain again and again.

  She sat back in her chair and watched while the napkin was thoroughly inspected, then passed again.

  Jacob squeezed her knee, “What do you think?”

  “It’s nice.” Rachelle passed the napkin to Drew. Jacob’s gaze snapped to hers and locked on, his eyes narrowing. “Talk to me.”

  Her jaw tightened. She shook her head slightly and looked away to avoid the spotlight.

  “Etch,” Jacob said. “Can I borrow your pen?” Without hesitation, she tossed the pen across the table. Jacob placed the pen and his napkin in front of Rachelle with a dare-you brow lift.

  She gripped the edge of the table, then her right arm slowly reached for the pen and she let her gut instincts pour out the tip. The vision of a female warrior with armor designed to intimidate yet defend emerged on the white. A mixture of Norse and Celtic. Of strength, yet feminine. There wasn’t anything sexual about the character. She was simply strong and in control of her world.