Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two

by Darcy Burke

  “Of course,” Sara said. “Who is this person?” A light fired behind her eyes. “Wait, is it the same woman? The secret-not-girlfriend?”

  “For heaven’s sake, she’s not secret or a girlfriend. She’s a friend I met recently, and her thumb’s the greenest I’ve seen.”

  Sara fidgeted with the bracelet she was wearing—one of her favorite sensory items. “Are you going to tell us how you met her and how you know what color her thumb is?”

  “No.” He knew he was coming off like a jerk, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk about Maggie right now, particularly when he had to figure out how to keep her identity secret while having her do the landscape design. Was that even possible? No. He was such an asshole.

  “I gotta go,” he said, already turning. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”

  “Can’t wait to meet her!” Sara called behind him.

  MAGGIE STOOD BACK and surveyed her living room. Wow, she could actually live in it. The couch was clean and even had pillows on it, and she’d hooked the television up. There were no pictures on the walls, but she didn’t have many of those anyway. Kyle could help her with them later.

  Would that be before or after she told him about Natalie Frobish? She dreaded the discussion but knew it had to happen. She just hoped he wouldn’t spin out of control. News like this was tough on everyone, but for someone who dealt with addiction and compulsion, it could be catastrophic.

  Her phone rang, and she braced herself when she saw it was her mother. She’d already ignored two of her phone calls and decided she’d better pick up this time. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Magnolia!” Uh-oh, she sounded excited, and not in a good way. “I called you at the clinic earlier, and they said there’d been an attack or something yesterday. Are you all right?”

  “It wasn’t an attack. One of my patients brought a gun and tried to kill himself. I’m fine, Mom.” Mostly. She’d done a good job all afternoon of keeping the darkness from taking over her mind and driving her to the Xanax bottle.

  “I can’t imagine that’s possible. You’re an emotional person, my tender little flower bud. Maybe now you’ll rethink this ridiculous career.”

  “It’s not ridiculous, Mom.” It was a lot of things—stressful, depressing, frustrating—but not that.

  “It’s not for you.” She sighed into the phone. “You internalize everything, Magnolia. Treating mentally ill patients is only going to make you crazy.”

  The truth of her words battered at Maggie’s tender—yes, tender—emotions. She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not today. And maybe never. She heard a car and looked out the window to see Kyle parking in the driveway. “Mom, I need to go.”

  “You always do.” She sounded miffed. “I’ll keep badgering you about this.”

  Maggie knew she would. “Which ‘this’ are you referring to? My job? My ‘tender’ sensibilities?”

  “All of it.”

  “Can’t wait. Talk to you later, Mom.” She ended the call and opened the door to let Kyle in.

  He greeted her with a wide smile and a lingering kiss, sweeping her into his arms as he came inside.

  The irritation of the phone call washed away in his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, loving the feel of him against her.

  When he pulled his head up from hers, he surveyed the living room behind her. “Wow, you’ve been busy today. Looks great.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. Her insides warmed at his praise. “Thanks. I just need your help to hang the pictures.”

  “You got it.” He cupped her face. “I have the best news.”

  And she had the worst—or at least really bad news. She was happy to hear him out first. Relieved even. Plus, his enthusiasm was infectious. “Tell me.”

  He took her hand and led her into the kitchen. “I just came from The Alex, and we’re in desperate need of your help.”

  “My help?” She watched him pull two wine glasses down and grab a bottle from the countertop wine rack they’d set up last night.

  “The landscape designer has completely vanished from the grid. We have a truckload of plants arriving on Monday and no plan. Please say you’ll make it pretty for the wedding.”

  She shook her head, trying to compute what he was asking. “You want me to design the landscaping at the wedding cottage?”

  He opened the bottle and splashed red wine into the glasses. Handing her one, he held his up in a toast. “To our new landscape designer.”

  “Whoa, hold on.” She loved his excitement, felt it herself, but it wasn’t that simple. Her brain was a war of anticipation about how to transform the outdoor setting and anxiety over his family’s reaction to her. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

  He lowered his glass without taking a drink. “No. You’re Magnolia, the landscape designer.”

  She tried not to laugh. “I’m now a uni-monikered person like Madonna or Prince?”

  He shrugged. “Sort of. There’s no reason to introduce you as anything else. It’s not exactly lying . . .”

  No, but it was by omission. Did that matter? “I’m not sure I can do it. Being around your family would be . . . strange.” And difficult. She felt as though she knew them all, at least a little bit, based on things Alex had said.

  Lines creased around his eyes. He stepped closer. “Will it? I don’t want that. I just thought this was a good solution—we need a designer, and you love doing it. Win-win.”

  She couldn’t argue with him there.

  “I know you have to work, but we’ll figure it out, and we have the weekend.”

  “Actually, I don’t have to work this week. I’m taking some personal time.”

  His features softened. “I think that’s a great idea. And that’s not just me being selfish.”

  She smiled. “I know. Thank you.” When he said things like that, she thought there just might be a future for them, provided they figured out the mess with his family. Could they ever accept her? Could she ever feel comfortable with them? Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, not with this landscaping issue and with what she still had to tell him.

  “I know we can make this work. It’s only for a week. No one will hear your real name, and none of them have ever met you as Alex’s therapist. It’ll work out, I promise.”

  He couldn’t promise that, but she appreciated his desire to do his best to make it so. “Okay.”

  “Okay, you’ll do it?”

  “Yes.”

  He grinned before dropping a fast kiss on her mouth. “Thank you.” He toasted her again, and this time they both drank.

  Maggie took two drinks in order to fortify herself for what she had to say next. “I have news, too.”

  His eyebrows dipped. “That sounds ominous.”

  “The computer guy e-mailed me—he’d misplaced your information and asked me to forward it.”

  “Did you? I checked my e-mail earlier but didn’t see anything.”

  “No, I wanted to tell you in person. Let’s sit.” She went over to her laptop on the table and sat. She set her wineglass down and watched him make his way to the chair next to hers.

  He turned it so that he faced her. “You’re freaking me out a little bit here.”

  Her heart raced, and her neck was damp with anxiety. “It’s someone you know.”

  He put his glass down with a clack and slid her computer closer. “Show me.” His voice had turned cold.

  Maybe that was better than telling him. She opened the laptop and pulled up her e-mail. Finding the message from the computer guy, she clicked on the first attachment.

  And watched the reaction play across his face.

  Shock, horror, sadness, and finally rage.

  He clicked through the rest of the attachments and read through them quickly. “The deceitful bitch. I can’t believe she’s capable of this.” He stared at the screen, but Maggie wondered if he was actually seeing anything. Emotion, thick and harsh, haunted his gaze and inhab
ited the lines around his mouth. “I mean, obviously she is. But how did none of us know? And how could she do this to our family? To Alex?”

  Maggie touched his shoulder, but he jumped up and stalked toward the front door. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He paused, and when he turned, the anguish in his eyes broke her heart. “Somewhere I can dull this pain.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  HE WANTED TO run. He needed solace. He craved that feeling of euphoria that could drive all of his insecurities and resentments away. That invincibility that only gambling could give him. And which was a total crock.

  Maggie came to him and took his hands in hers. She felt warm and safe. Without words, she led him back to the table and gently pushed him to sit. She closed the computer and slid it away. Then her fingers massaged his shoulders. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on her instead of the anger and helplessness raging inside of him.

  After several minutes, he began to relax. Or at least the frustration began to dull. He opened his eyes, saw the computer, and the emotion swept over him again, though it was less consuming. He exhaled, using the breathing technique Maggie had taught him.

  “I can’t tell my Dad it was her. He’ll be devastated.” Kyle’s insides twisted. Dad was already such a mess over Alex, but he seemed to be getting better in the last several weeks, even if he hadn’t actually confronted his grief. However, learning that one of his most trusted employees had sold Alex the drugs could send him back into the angry spiral he’d been immersed in during the first few months after Alex’s suicide—it could very well wreck him. Hell, it was wrecking Kyle.

  God, Natalie had actually tried to date him! And he’d flirted with her, at least a little. Nausea roiled in his gut. “How could she do it?” His voice nearly broke, and he wiped his hand over his mouth.

  Maggie’s hands slid down his chest, and she leaned over to press her lips against his cheek. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I wish it had been someone else—someone you didn’t know and trust.”

  “Reading those e-mails makes me sick.” He laid his hands over Maggie’s, seeking comfort from her touch. “I have to get rid of her.”

  Maggie stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  He nearly laughed. Turning his head, he looked back at her and gave her hand a squeeze. “I meant get her out of Archer. I can’t have her set foot inside again. She has to resign immediately.”

  Maggie came around and sat in the chair beside him. “What about prosecution?”

  “Definitely.” The hurt, which had taken over for a moment, gave way to the anger again. “I’ll take these to the police. Can we print copies?”

  “Sure. Let me forward you the e-mail, too.” She pulled the computer toward her and took care of everything. “Good thing you set up the printer for me last night.” She got up and went to her office.

  Kyle’s gaze drifted to the open e-mail, but he quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to read it again. Natalie called Alex “sweetie” and signed her e-mails with Xs and Os. It was disgusting. She’d clearly been his crush. Had she played on that to take advantage of him? And how in the hell had someone like her become a drug dealer in the first place?

  Anxiety churned through him and drove him to his feet. He paced nervously, wanting to leave. He could be at the casino in thirty or forty minutes.

  Maggie came back and set a manila envelope on the table. “They’re in here.”

  He looked at the envelope with distaste, as if it was somehow toxic. With a twitch of his fingers, he plucked it from the table. “Thank you.”

  Her gaze was strong, earnest, as if she sought to tether him with just a glance. “I want to be here for you. What are you going to tell your dad and the rest of the family?”

  He worked to keep from crinkling the envelope in his tense grip. “I don’t know. I don’t want to tell Dad. I don’t want him to have to do anything.”

  Her brow knitted, making those shouldn’t-be-sexy lines over the bridge of her nose. “You want to keep this secret?”

  Like he kept her a secret? She hadn’t said that, but it was there between them. He thought they both wanted it that way, but maybe she didn’t anymore. Hell, he couldn’t think about that right now. “No. I just want to wait to tell him until I’ve talked to her and the police. I want her gone so that he doesn’t have to see her again. And I want to know what the police are going to do.”

  “So long as you have a plan,” she said. “You can’t hide it from him forever.” Just like he couldn’t hide her forever. Is that what he wanted?

  The envelope bent in his curling fingers. “I know. I just can’t do it now. Christ, the wedding’s next week, Mom just got back. The timing couldn’t be worse. I have to go.” He spun on his heel, his mind already halfway to the casino.

  She moved fast, stepping in front of him and taking his hand. “Where are you going?”

  He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. “Let me go.” The words were a whisper, a desperate, helpless plea.

  Her fingers tightened around his, and her thumb stroked the back of his hand. “I don’t want to.”

  With Herculean effort, he kept himself from giving in to the addiction. She’d thrown him a lifeline, and he grasped it with both hands. “Then don’t.”

  When his eyes found hers, all he saw was understanding and compassion. “We’ll figure this out. Tonight we’re just going to think it through and keep you from falling into the abyss. Okay?”

  The anxiety inside him crumbled and fell away. God, she already knew him so well. Yes, distraction sounded amazing. Necessary. He pulled her close and nuzzled her throat, pressed a kiss to her jugular. “I can think of plenty of ways to do that.”

  She wound her fingers into his hair. “Good.”

  And there she went, saving him from himself again. What was he going to do if they didn’t stay together?

  APPREHENSION TWISTED THROUGH Maggie, leaving knots of tension in its wake. As she walked down the dirt lane toward the wedding cottage, she felt as though she was marching to the executioner, and not even Kyle’s presence at her side alleviated the strain.

  This was foolish. They had a plan. No one would know she was Maggie Trent, the therapist who’d failed Alex. She was Magnolia, the landscape architect with zero experience and a completely blank résumé. Who was charging them next to nothing.

  But she wasn’t doing it for the money. She was doing it for herself. For her own peace of mind, to calm the unease in her soul.

  As if he could sense her anxiety, Kyle nudged her hand before they reached the cottage. “It’s going to be fine.”

  She nodded, pulling her cap lower over her forehead to shade her eyes from the brilliant sun. It was early still—just after eight—but the day was already bright and warm, well on its way to hot.

  Dylan and a young woman who had to be Sara emerged from the cottage. “Hey, Kyle,” Dylan said.

  Sara came directly toward Maggie, her hand extended. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sara Archer.”

  I know. You’re the sister everyone coddled but who Alex deeply admired. The unspoken thoughts nearly closed her throat. “Hi,” she managed, shaking Sara’s hand.

  “And you already met Dylan,” Kyle said. “Anyone else here yet? I know Tori’s plane doesn’t get in until almost noon.” Kyle had told Maggie that his other sister was returning from San Francisco, where she’d had some work meetings the past few days.

  Dylan shook his head. “Derek and Chloe should be here soon, though. They’re picking up a dumping trailer that I rented.”

  Maggie was curious to see the interplay between Derek and Kyle. She wondered how long it would be before they made up and only hoped it wouldn’t be forever. According to Alex, ever the observer, their rift had been tough on the whole family, not that either of them had recognized it. “What sort of tools do we have—what did you rent?” Maggie asked.

  “Dylan and I brought Dad’s tractor.” Sara pointed to the smallish vehicle that would be grea
t for clearing the brush.

  “Plus a lot of yard tools,” Dylan said.

  They discussed the equipment and a basic plan for how to tackle the area. Soon, Kyle was busy rototilling while Dylan was driving the tractor. That left Sara and Maggie to trim back shrubbery that wasn’t going to be removed.

  Sara glanced at the growing pile of clippings. “This is going to be a giant pile of debris.”

  Maggie nodded. “Smart move renting the dumping trailer so we can move it out. What are they going to do with it?”

  Sara shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  Maggie had an idea. “Looking forward, it would be great if The Alex had its own vegetable garden and maybe even formal garden with walking paths. A compost pile would be a helpful component to both of those things. If you decided you wanted to do that.”

  Sara’s eyes lit beneath the wide brim of her hat. “I love that! The vegetable garden, the walking garden, the compost—all of it! We might have to hire you as groundskeeper.” She laughed.

  Maggie smiled, thinking that sounded like an amazing job. But she was already employed. In a job she couldn’t currently face.

  “How did you get into landscape design?” Sara asked as she snipped branches. “Kyle said you were new to the field.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ve been a bit of a hobbyist until now.” Maggie didn’t like the thread of unease that wound through her. She wasn’t exactly lying, but she wasn’t being honest either. And Sara seemed like a genuinely nice person. No, Maggie knew she was from everything Alex had said about her. And that made Maggie feel even more uncomfortable—knowing things that Sara had no idea she knew.

  Argh.

  Sara looked at her askance. “So you and Kyle are just friends?”

  And there was the question she’d been at least half-expecting. “Yes.” Again, not exactly a lie. They’d never agreed to be anything more than that. The benefits part was personal, right? Not something she needed to confirm or deny.