Divine Conspiracy (Divine #1)

by Rose Hudson

  “I know he would. But Ruth, your Daddy isn’t the only reason that I’ve never moved on. You’re too young to understand all of it, but I will say that I want things to be perfect for you before I introduce some random man into your life.” This time she wipes a tear from my cheek and grabs my hand, almost as if she suddenly became the adult in the conversation.

  I think the only thing that’s gotten me through the trials of being a single parent, is the long ago example set for me by my grandmother, Ruth Presley. She was a firm believer in the old saying, “the early bird gets the worm” and the woman who, I swear, coined the phrase, “put ya big girl panties on”. Being my father’s mother, I knew where his hard work mentality came from. But I knew from an early age that he must have gotten his heart from his father, because he didn’t carry the same love and rare kindness that his mother did. Unfortunately, I never knew my grandfather, as he died long before I was born in a gas line explosion. He worked away from home for months on end, laying miles and miles of gas line across the southeast portion of the US. I can only assume this prepared my grandmother for the weight of being a single parent years before it became a reality. She never really talked about him, but she often made remarks to my father about how much he was like his daddy. Usually these comments were made in distaste, but resonated with pride all the same. I think she loved my grandfather, but resented him for leaving her so many times, and eventually forever. I learned from her experience. I just never knew that it would ever become my reality.

  “My life is perfect. I just wish you had someone besides me to love, Mom, that’s all.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck, dissolving the weight of our conversation in one simple gesture. Standing back, she proceeds to the cabinets, pulling out two plates and setting them on the counter. “Do you want a big piece or a huge piece,” she giggles. And just like that, all is right with the world.

  After the world’s biggest piece of cake, followed by a movie marathon of chick flicks, Ruth gave me her version of a pedicure before passing out on the huge suede ottoman, after which I decided to catch up on my latest read. In lieu of my traditional sweet romance, and in respect of my new found determination to go outside of my comfort zone in all things, I selected a sultry erotic novel. Four chapters in and I’m already hating myself, because all it does is make me think of passion inducing Patrick.

  So far today, I have managed to dodge questions from Ruth about my night without her and text messages from Chanin, Mel and Leelan. Really, there isn’t that much to tell anyway. Other than to tell them that I fell asleep on the only guy ever to charm me, make me wet, and put me to bed without ever touching me. Well, touching me outside of having to carry me all over God’s green earth. Ugg…I’m such an idiot. What’s even worse? I have searched this house over thinking maybe he left me his number or at least a note of sayonara somewhere, but no, nothing. If that doesn’t say I left quite the impression, I don’t know what does. I wish I could force some of the blame on him, but I can’t. He was such a gentleman in every sense of the word that it makes me want to smack myself for not keeping my shit together long enough to at least give him a proper ‘thank you’ for getting me home safely. And carrying me upstairs. And putting me to bed. And being concerned enough about my foot that he left ibuprofen on the nightstand. To some, I’m sure Patrick’s actions would seem commonplace, but to me, they were new and inviting.

  Nobody had ever cared for me like that, especially someone that I didn’t even know. Of all the male figures present throughout my life, all two of them, I can’t remember my father or Glendon ever showing that level of concern for anyone. Well, I guess I can’t really say that. Glendon was a good father to Ruth when he was home, but with me it was different. I remember during my pregnancy with her, wondering if things would go back to happy once she was born. He was gone for a large portion of my pregnancy, but when he was home, it was almost like he was repulsed by me and my huge baby belly. As a military wife, you understood that sex was a given anytime your husband came home from a separation. Needless to say, I became extremely self-conscious when Glendon avoided it at all cost. As if leaving me with no friends or family during such a vulnerable time wasn’t enough, even when he was home, he wasn’t really there.

  That’s when I started believing the old saying ‘girls marry men like their dads’, because my view of Glendon started to look so familiar. I remember my father being fun and kind when I was very young, but of course with his band on tour, I didn’t see much of him or my mother. Thankfully, my grandmother lived with us and took care of me when my parents were gone. My mother had been a hair and makeup artist when my father met her, and true to form, she toured with my father’s band after my birth and continued the work she enjoyed. But, I believe it was the party lifestyle she enjoyed more. My father’s drinking, and my mother’s pill addiction, left my care in the hands of my grandmother. She was hard-nosed and strict, but I knew she thought the sun rose and set with me, and until now, I guess it had always been enough.

  Being raised by Ruth Presley, I was taught to be a lady. Women do not pursue men; it was only right for men to make the first move. But given the fact that Patrick didn’t leave any information behind before he left, and the fact that I’m itching to talk to him without beer goggles on, the urge to get in contact with him is making me antsy. Let’s get real, my grandmother was born during the first half of the twentieth century. Surely, it being the twenty-first century and all, she would have to cut me a break, right? Closing my book, watching my daughter sleep as I anxiously bite at my nails, I try unsuccessfully to tamp down the need for information. I couldn’t tell you if it was the moment our eyes met, or the body weakening orgasm I’d had while remembering the feel of his strong hands, but something was pushing me forward to find some answers as to who this White Knight is.

  I stealthily uncover myself from my blanket and sneak around the ottoman, careful not to wake Ruth from her nap as I make my way to the office. I gently push the door closed after stepping inside, feeling giddy at the thought of locating his information, and even more so at the chance to speak to him. But as my laptop wakes from sleep mode, and my desktop screen is made visible, I can’t help but wonder if I truly want to know. I mean, he could be married with three kids, or a man on the run from a life of crime as a mass murderer, you never know. I laugh out loud at my ignorant suggestion, especially since I’ve watched every season of CSI and know that if that were true, he would totally change his name. “Duh,” I stifle a groan at the use of one of Ruth’s words, straightening in my chair and clicking on the Google icon. “Focus Erin,” I instruct myself, internally cursing the incredibly slow internet speed, waiting for the damn search bar to appear. When it does, I click the mouse over it, typing in ‘Patrick Lawson’ after the cursor appears.

  One month later…

  “ERIN, DID YOU HEAR me?”

  I jerk out of my daydream and look up to see Chanin peaking her head in my office door, noting her abnormally revealing blouse before answering.

  “Oh, hey, no I’m sorry, did you need me?” She steps inside, closing the door behind her before settling in one of the arm chairs in front of my desk, giving me a look of pity.

  “Are you okay? You haven’t come out of your office all week unless to attend a staff meeting. You’re worrying me.”

  “I’m fine Chanin. Just a lot going on.” I reach across the desk, placing my hand atop hers, taking on my required role in our friendship as comforter, no matter if it is I that actually needs the comforting at the moment. “Nice cleavage by the way.” I give her a saucy wink. “I’m guessing Leelan’s back in town?” She pulls her hand from beneath mine, slapping it before retracting hers into her lap.

  “Hell, is it that obvious,?” She shoots me a sly grin, taking both hands under her boobs and pushing them together. “A gals gotta use what she’s got ya know?” We laugh in unison at her remark, given that she recently admitted to me that there was in fact something going on between the
two. Chanin is by far my closest friend, but that doesn’t mean she is quick to tell me everything. I’ve known all along, but instead of calling them out, I decided it best to let her tell me in her own time, knowing eventually she wouldn’t be able to contain herself or their ‘secret’. “Any luck on the Patrick front lately,” she asks before recoiling at the death stare she sees on my face. “I know, I know! We aren’t talking about it, but I can’t help that I’m curious!”

  Since my birthday, I actively searched for Patrick’s information for a week or so, coming up empty handed. Finally telling myself that if he wanted to be found, he would. No matter the fact that my heart seems to have some crazy idea that meeting him meant something, doesn’t make it so. Besides, he is the first guy I’ve allowed myself to entertain since Glendon’s death, and I’m sure that has a lot to do with the small infatuation I had. That’s right, had. I refuse to take on the identity of the teenage girl I’m apparently trying to be by falling for the first guy I meet. Gah! What started out as a simple quest to find a way of contacting him to say thank you, quickly spiraled into an office wide topic of the month.

  “How’s things with Leelan going by the way? You both have looked equally glowing lately,” I tease, but carry a hint of retribution in my grin, I’m sure.

  “Is that right? Hmm, I hadn’t noticed,” she replies just as teasingly, before moving on quickly by changing the subject, knowing she does not want to play this game with me. “Do you have anything scheduled today?”

  “Not really. I need to go check on Shaylyn at the store at some point since we received the new inventory, but that’s about it.” I take a drink of my coffee, looking at her inquisitively, knowing she has something up her sleeve. Always.

  “I’ve decided last minute to fly out tonight with Leelan to finalize the details of our fabric selections. I still haven’t found any information on the owner of that warehouse in Bon Secour, and we really need to discuss some purchasing options this next week, but I won’t be back until Sunday night.” She pulls a folder from her shoulder bag, selecting a single piece of paper and placing it on the desk before me. “Here are the directions to get there. Do you think you can go check it out?” I shift my gaze from the paper up to her eyes, disinterest written in my features. “I’ll bring you back something nice,” she whines and gives me her best pouty face. Sighing in defeat, incapable of ever telling her no, I stand from my chair, taking the paper with me.

  “Then it better be chocolate. A lot of chocolate.”

  After stopping by GRACE to check on Shaylyn and view the new inventory, I started toward Bon Secour. All the little coastal towns of Mobile Bay run fairly close together and the drive really isn’t that far, I just didn’t want to get hung up looking at this warehouse and be late to pick Ruth up from school. That was one part of my job that I loved. Having the flexibility to take Ruth to and from school was a plus. It allows us time with each other that I feel is important, even if it’s just fifteen minutes one-way. The only problem with us being here, no family and few friends, means that there isn’t anyone to fill in if I get otherwise detained. I know if I called Mel and she wasn’t busy herself, she would pick her up, no problem. But Mel’s availability isn’t always guaranteed, so it worries me to stray from where Ruth’s school is in Daphne. But I do it because, well, Chanin. Need I say more?

  The GPS indicates my destination is in a quarter-mile, so I slow down, watching to the left for an indication and spotting the turn just ahead. Pulling down a dirt driveway, I see the large warehouse, pleased that it looks to be in decent condition from the outside. Chanin wanted to move the business to the coast for two reasons; more business and water access. With her vision to expand the label and create her designs using only American made fabrics, the decision was made to obtain a warehouse on the water for easier access to the cargo ships. Although our clothes will be completely American made, she eventually wants them available for retail worldwide. And if I know Chanin as well as I think, with her determination and drive that vision will become a reality sooner than anyone anticipates. I look around the property from inside my car, but don’t see a for sale sign anywhere, which strikes me as odd considering that it’s vacant and known to be for sale. Deciding to get a better look, I exit the car and head closer to the building. I quickly peer into the windows and walk around the parts of the building I can access, disappointed when I still come up empty handed. As I stand on the dock, taking in the salty air and sunshine, I notice another building just a ways up the beach. I can’t imagine people doing business this close not knowing one another, so I think I will just ask the neighbors for some information. God knows I have nothing to lose at this point.

  The sand is pleasantly warm between my toes as I walk to the neighboring property. The fact that I purchased a house on the water and have yet to enjoy it, only proves that my decision for change is long overdue. Who does that anyway? People buy coastal property to enjoy it, not to peak at it from the kitchen window as they wash dishes. Don’t get me wrong, I am very pleased with the results so far from my hard work and devotion with both my career and Ruth. I guess you could say I’ve just had an awakening of sorts and now know that’s not all there is to life. A flash of Patrick’s deep gray eyes hit me in a wave and I pinch my eyes closed to force it away like I’ve had to do several times over the past four weeks. It doesn’t mean anything. He left an impression on me, it’s that simple, nothing more. I push harder through the sand to increase my stride, wanting to get to this damn building and hopefully get some information, the pleasant feel of the sand forgotten. Thankfully there is a set of stairs on this side of the dock, making it so I don’t have to climb over. Which is great since I’m in this damn pencil skirt and don’t feel like showing the good people of Bon Secour my ass.

  Seeing a boat in a water access bay, I make the wise assumption that this is apparently a boat repair shop as I round the corner. Not seeing anyone, I continue into the work area, following the sound of tools. Finally, after walking around the massive boat, I find a guy welding, but am hesitant to approach since he is wearing a welding hood and I would more than likely scare the shit out of us both, were I to yell or touch him. After several minutes, he turns to do something and flips up the hood, spotting me.

  “Damn, you scared the shit out of me,” he yells, grabbing his shirt at the chest. I can’t help the giggle that erupts through the hand I immediately place over my mouth at his reaction. Okay, that didn’t work out quite the way I planned.

  “I’m sorry to startle you.” I slowly approach, hand extended. “I just stopped by to see if you had any information about the property next door.” He quickly wipes at his hands with a nearby rag, then shakes my hand.

  “No problem. I think the boss man can help, he’s through that door if you’d like to speak with him.”

  I nod in appreciation before walking over to the door labeled ‘Office’. As I walk through the door, I’m met with a small room and a man sitting behind the desk with his back to me talking on the phone. I grin at the fact that his ball cap is on backwards, but that grin fades as soon as he turns and our eyes meet. The color drains from his face when he registers my presence, and he’s apparently done talking to whoever was on the phone, because he just stops and hangs up. My heart hammers at my chest and I hate that he has the power to do that to my body.

  “Of all the people in the world I thought I’d find behind this door, you certainly weren’t one of them,” I fire at him like an arrow, trying my best to not reveal my instant agitation, but failing completely.

  “So you’re saying you aren’t here on purpose,” he states instead of asking in question.

  “Pfft! Don’t flatter yourself Patrick, I walked over from the property next door to see if I might find out who it belongs to. I assure you, I am not here to see you.” I mentally put myself in check, willing this unnecessary anger to dissolve as I spot the confusion in his features. Just because he didn’t leave his number does not give me the right to chew
his head off at first sight of him. I straighten my stance, and approach his desk.

  “Look Patrick, I’m sorry to have snapped at you like that, but I was entirely caught off guard to see you sitting behind this desk.” I exhale a ragged breath and give him a tight smile. “I honestly came to gather any information I could find regarding the property, and then I’ll be on my way.” He leans forward and steeples his fingers under his chin, looking down at his desk for a beat before looking up at me. I feel a sudden chill at the contact, hating myself that I’ve managed to slip back under that gaze that’s haunted me for the last month, but forcing my composure.

  “Is it the vacant warehouse your wanting information on?” His tone is completely business, but his features hold an emotion I can’t decipher.

  My composure slips a little at the fact that he is being so cavalier, and I spit back, “Yes. The vacant warehouse.” The office door swings open and the other guy pokes his head in.

  “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I’m gonna’ run to town and grab a bite real quick. You want anything?” I turn my attention from the guy back to Patrick, startled to see he is looking at me instead of the guy at the door. Holding my gaze as he speaks, he answers, “Go ahead Dawson, I think I’ll eat upstairs.”

  “Alrighty then. I’ll be back,” the guy, apparently named Dawson, replies before closing the door. Patrick stands from his desk, turning the bill of his cap around to the front, obstructing my view of his eyes. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me a bit of relief. Those eyes seemed to hold some sort of power over me and I wanted nothing to do with them.

  “Follow me. I’ll see if I can’t locate that information for you,” his voice taking on a slight echo in the now silent room as he starts toward the door. My feet feel glued to the floor as I go to stand, sitting for a long moment before finally gaining control of my body and standing to follow him.