“I don’t.” It wasn’t even a line. She actually couldn’t afford one right now. She owned a tent and a backpack and the sneakers on her feet. Hard to believe she once employed an agent and sat in on fancy dinners with prospective sponsors talking about documentary deals.
Mitch’s gaze brushed over her face like a caress. “Seriously?’
She had to swallow to force the word out. “Yes.”
“Fair enough.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“You believe me?”
He shrugged. “Are you lying?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “Then what do you say to the date?”
She said the first thing that popped into her head. “I’ll get right on that.”
The smile that spread over his mouth was bright enough to light the room. “Nice comeback.”
“Thought that might impress you.”
“Oh, it did. Now, it’s my turn.” He stood up straight again. “I’m going to walk away thinking we’re on for tomorrow.”
Her good mood faded. “I didn’t—”
“When I do go—” he pointed in the direction of the glassed-in office at the far end of the room, “—you’re going to be tempted to watch my ass.”
The comment was so out of context it hit her like a sharp smack. “Excuse me?”
“Just to be clear, I won’t be offended. As far as I’m concerned, you can go right ahead and look because I can guarantee you if the positions were reversed, I’d be watching yours.”
With her mouth hanging open and her mind muddled, she watched him walk away. No, make that saunter. It was the sure stalk of a hunter, all grace with no wasted steps.
And damn if she didn’t take a peek at his ass.
Chapter Two
Mitch couldn’t fight the grin as he walked down the aisle filled with customers engaged in open gawking. He had taken a nice long look of his own at Cassidy, just not for the same reason.
She had starred in more than one teenage fantasy. Back then he was a mass of raging hormones with a head attached but not much in the way of brains. He was into cheerleaders. Almost any girl, really.
Most people wrote her off as aloof, but he saw something else. Something sweet and a little shy, even as she worked out harder than most of the guys on the football team. That athletic drive turned him on because he had it too. It was that focus, the refusal to listen to the naysayers, that as an adult put her name in the news and her body at the top of the highest mountains in the world.
As he got older and his taste in women moved past short skirts and cute butts to include things like personality, stuff his younger self totally didn’t get, he’d continued to follow Cassidy’s career. He smiled over every photograph and accomplishment until her reputation crashed. Like, fiery explosion crashed.
He shook off the memory of the stunned look on her face and walked into his office, straight into two men he worked with every day. Seeing their narrow-gazed expressions had him closing the door behind him with a click. “What’s going on?”
Spencer Thomas, who was co-owner of Thomas Nurseries along with his brother Austin and Mitch, who owned a lesser percentage, shook his head. Spence stopped leaning against the credenza behind Mitch’s desk but kept his arms folded across his chest as he stood up. “Walk away, man.”
“That sounds like advice but I’m not sure what the topic is.” But Mitch did. He glanced out the window and scanned the nursery floor for the object of the warning.
“The Chosen One.”
Man, the town had a nickname for everything. “Her name is Cassidy, Spence.”
It took all of two seconds to spy Cassidy, huddled alone in a slim-fitting sweater and matching jeans as she fingered the petals of the dark purple mums. Long golden-blond hair with bangs brushed against her forehead. Pale smooth skin and big brown eyes. Slightly softer and less muscular than when he’d known her all those years ago but still with the high cheekbones that could stop his breath.
Spence made a sound somewhere between a groan and yell. “That woman, Cassidy or The Chosen One or whatever you want to call her, is trouble. Pure trouble.”
“She’s been back in town all of a day.” The news had increased from a whisper campaign to a roar less than an hour before and Mitch had been planning a meeting in his head ever since. Lucky for him, she walked right through the business’ front door and saved him rounds of plotting.
He glanced at Travis Yardley, the nursery foreman, who was even now sitting in Mitch’s chair with his feet up on the desk and a stupid grin on his face. Typical of Travis, he didn’t say much but he clearly enjoyed the argument brewing around him.
“She barely hit town and the grumbling started,” Spence said.
Mitch wasn’t sure how that was Cassidy’s fault, but Spence didn’t seem to be in the mood for a smack of common sense. “Your point?”
“I know you used to have a thing for her—”
“Do you blame me?” Attraction, heat. Mitch experienced a heavy dose of both in her presence back then and right now. “Look at her.”
“—but she’s always been a chilly one. The type to sleep alone, if you know what I mean.”
The air blew right out of Mitch with that comment. He looked to Travis for help but he just shook his head at Spence’s cryptic remark. “I have no fucking clue what that means.”
“I’m thinking Spence forgot some words.” Travis let his feet drop to the floor as he stared at Spence. “Or he knows less about women than we thought. Is that even possible?”
A thought popped into Mitch’s head, and he couldn’t push it out. “Did she turn you down or something? Is that what all this The Chosen One stuff is about?”
“Just giving you a warning.” Spence’s voice dipped into man-to-man talk territory. “That way I can say ‘I told you so’ and enjoy being right later.”
Travis nodded. “Nice, man. Way to be supportive.”
“You sound like a girl,” Spence joked.
“At least I’m still young enough to know something about them.”
“Look, she doesn’t come back for her mom’s funeral and now she shows up six months later, to what? Take the house away from Allan?” Spence ticked off her perceived sins on his fingers as his voice grew serious again and his gaze honed in on her on the floor.
Mitch had heard all the rumors. People were more than willing to believe every terrible word about Cassidy. Still, the talk about her family had his back teeth slamming together. His parents lived right outside of Holloway and were far from perfect, but he couldn’t imagine not being there if either of them needed him.
“Since when are you intimately knowledgeable about the Clarke-Huntsman family?” Travis asked.
Spence spared Travis a scowl before turning back to Mitch. “We all know Allan turned into a hermit. I’m betting Cassidy is the reason behind it.”
Thinking about Cassidy’s stepfather wiped out the energy that had been pinging around inside Mitch since he saw her across the room. “You sound like one of the old gossipy women at the church.”
Spence nodded. “And you look like a guy on the edge of doing something stupid.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Travis said.
“Bet you a beer you slip over the edge and into a heaping pile of stupid very soon.”
Mitch refused to acknowledge Spence’s argument. The conversation had slid way off course and Mitch was ready to move on. “I’m getting back to work. Landscaping, tree cutting, selling everything out there in the nursery—any of this sound familiar?”
“I’ll take that as a yes to the bet.” Spence pointed at Travis. “You’re my witness.”
“I’m trying to figure out if Mitch wants to win the beer or not,” Travis said.
Mitch was wondering the same thing.
* * *
Hours later, Cassidy stood in front of the nursery’s locked gate dressed in dark-colored clothing with her hair tucked into a hat like some sort of bad movie Pe
eping Tom. Or maybe Peeping Tanya, in her case. She watched the last set of taillights leave the nursery parking lot and bit back a sigh at what came next. Breaking and entering or burglary or whatever the criminal name was for what she was about to do was not her usual nightly activity. Not that anything qualified as “usual” any more.
She’d grown up with food and shelter and took it for granted just like most other kids on the planet. Now, with her luck dropping faster than her remaining cash, she knew desperation. She’d spent last night on the far side of the nursery property, away from the lights and activity and sleeping in a tent, one of the few items she still owned and a holdover from her climbing days. That wasn’t her first choice, but it was fine, but tonight she had a bigger problem—no food. Like, none. Not even a stray peanut or unused ketchup packet.
She’d eaten her last breakfast bar this morning. More than twelve hours later she needed something—anything—which put her right here, right now. When she was inside the nursery earlier, a door opened and she’d gotten a peek at a refrigerator. That had to mean food. Possibly jail time if she got caught, but at least she wouldn’t be starving during fingerprinting.
The twinge of guilt that settled in right after the idea hit her brain kicked up to an unrelenting throb. She’d never stolen in her life. Never picked a lock. Every part of this was wrong, but she vowed to make it up to Mitch and the Thomas family somehow.
A brief glance at the three-story farmhouse at the top of the hill showed lights on by the front door and in most of the windows on the middle floor. She knew from the town’s rumblings Spence lived there and used the bottom floor for offices he shared with his brother Austin. She hadn’t seen either of them in years, but everyone for miles knew the Thomas brothers. She doubted the years had done much to change their hard-working, fun-loving ways. She really hoped not to find out firsthand if Spence still spent most of his time grumbling. If he caught her, she’d be wearing prison orange in no time.
With its big porch and the huge pots filled with flowers, the farmhouse looked inviting. She’d bet it had heat and running water. She was starting to wonder if she’d ever have either again. That would teach her to trust the wrong guy with her life savings.
Refusing to walk down memory lane, which she generally thought of as nightmare alley, she eyed the lock and started devising a plan to get around it. It wasn’t as if the place had barbed wire or fighting dogs outside. This was Holloway, filled with the ultimate don’t-lock-the-doors neighborhoods and people expecting low crime. That had practically guaranteed her entrance onto the three hundred-plus acre property without incident. Getting inside a building would be tougher.
She threw the smaller of her two bags over the nine foot chain-link fence, the other one being with her rolled-up tent out on the property, then slipped her sneakers in the holes. It was the easiest climb of her career. A few pulls and she was up and over. All went fine until she bent over to grab the bag and a light above the door snapped on.
Her shoes slid across the dirt with a scraping sound as she ducked behind a huge pot. Her heart thudded hard enough to thump in her ears as she tried to breathe. The air wouldn’t pull into her lungs. She knew her internal organs hadn’t shut down at the scare, but it sure felt like it.
After a few minutes of scanning the area without moving, her thighs burned from crouching. Right as she’d bargained with her brain for a chance to stretch her legs, the lights flicked off. The darkness swallowed up everything around her. She blinked a few times to make out the shadows. She didn’t see anyone, or hear anything other than the swish of air through the tree branches and the crunch of a pebble under her foot.
Another thought hit her. She reached her hand out and waved it only to have the light switch back on. Realizing she had a motion sensor issue and nothing more sent a wave of relief crashing through her. Looked like she wouldn’t add criminal charges to her personal history. Not tonight anyway.
She looked at the greenhouse a few feet away and the equipment sheds lined up behind it, trying to figure out if she could skip the tent this time and sleep indoors. Sleeping outside didn’t bother her. Years of training had prepared for some pretty harsh conditions. But she would be grateful not to call on those reserves tonight if at all possible.
She threw on her dirty backpack and started walking. With a gentle touch, she slipped her hand under the greenhouse handle and turned. When the door opened, her relief turned to something much brighter and bigger. She’d trade frizzy hair for warmth at this point.
Now for some food. She headed down the aisle to toward the office Mitch had entered earlier. Mitch, yeah, there was a name she wanted to forget. A face she wished she could wipe from her mind. Not thinking about his joking banter and easy acceptance of her being right there in his place of business would make all of this easier. She was, after all, trespassing…or something. None of this would be necessary if she could have stayed in her old room as planned. It was the house her mother once owned but that now belonged to her stepfather, Allan. One quick phone call on a borrowed phone at the gas station, complete with a rambling and nonsensical excuse from him about how he couldn’t see her right now or have her at the house, made staying out with Allan impossible. He’d hung up before she could beg for a temporary room. Tomorrow she’d head out to the house and try groveling, if needed. Until then, she was on her own.
Which explained why she was staring at the door to the glassed-in office. She skipped it, thinking invading Mitch’s personal space seemed like too much of a violation, and went for the one marked Employees Only that she’d seen before and opened it only an inch. Darkness greeted her as she slipped inside with her backpack over her shoulders.
Refrigerator, table and chairs and a counter filled with boxes of crackers and bags of chips on it. It was a snack food junkie’s dream. She slid her hand along the wall and felt the light switch hit her fingers. Before she could turn it on, she heard a squeak.
“Hello?”
The familiar male voice sliced through the quiet and straight into her, bringing a shuddering chill with it. Her heart bounced hard enough to hit the floor. She was surprised her visitor hadn’t heard it. But this wasn’t any visitor. This was Mitch. She’d know that husky voice anywhere. It had been playing in her head since they talked this afternoon.
His footsteps echoed in the aisle outside, growing louder with each slap against the ground. “Anyone here?”
Her breath roared through the room, or so it sounded inside her head. With her exit blocked, she went for the next best strategy—hiding. She slid against the wall, feeling for any corner or crevice that might block her from his view. When her hand slammed against something metal, she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.
With her fingers tingling, she grabbed the unexpected doorknob and pulled. Once inside, the smell of ammonia hit her. As her eyes struggled to adjust, something hard pressed into her back. When she tried to turn, she knocked against whatever it was with her pack and felt the small whoosh of air as the item fell. Hands out and her mind running with a silent prayer for an unusual burst of luck, she caught the stick. Make that a mop handle.
The reality of being in a cleaning closet hit her as she heard the rattle of the main door and the light clicked on in the kitchen just outside where she stood. She tried to curl her body as tight as possible and hold her breath. Adrenaline pounded every cell of her body, but she forced her muscles to stay still.
Mitch could not find her here. There was no way to explain this without exposing her rabid stupidity.
More footsteps, slow and measured. Cups clanked together. A chair scraped against the floor. She even thought she heard the fridge open and close. The whole time she stared at the doorknob pressing against her stomach and willed it not to turn.
When the light blinked out what felt like two hours later but really was more like minutes, she heard the tap of the outside door as it closed again. She threw her head back and let out the breath she’d been holding. The ten
sion drained from her body, leaving only exhaustion behind.
He’d left without finding her. After a year of having nothing go right, she almost shouted for joy at having this one thing work.
She inched the door open and peeked into the dark kitchen. A box of crackers and she’d slink off, grateful for not getting caught on this recon trip. Then she’d do what had become a habit. She’d end the day hoping the next one would be a little bit better.
Chapter Three
The next morning Cassidy clicked the lock and opened the gate leading to the front yard of the house where she’d grown up. The hillside behind the house was alive with color as the leaves burst in shades of orange and red. The place could be in a “visit West Virginia” ad with its white fence surrounding a two-story house with white shingles and green shutters.
Memories crashed into her from every direction. Hanging off the bottom limb of that huge tree in the front yard. Climbing out her bedroom window and onto the roof hanging over the front porch to watch the stars. The smell of roast chicken on a Sunday. Her mother’s warm hug.
Cassidy inhaled, beating back both the good and the bad reminders of her past. Just thinking about her mom had the power to set off waterworks Cassidy couldn’t control. She wasn’t a crier, but losing the most important person in her life to cancer touched off a battle of sadness and anger inside her.
Her gaze fell to the bushes on either side of the bottom step leading up to the house. Allan loved spending hours on yard work, but as she looked closer she saw the wild branches and dead shrubs. Scanning her surroundings, she picked up on the chipping paint on the porch posts. Gone were the usual pots overflowing with seasonal flowers.
She dumped her backpack next to the brick pathway that meandered to the front of the house. The tent and few of her heavier supplies were still stacked and hidden under a cheap tarp and a pile of leaves in a secluded part of the nursery property crowded with rows of mature trees. She’d slept there again last night and hoped to be inside this house tonight. She had everything ready to go because she’d planned to convince Allan to let her stay then go back and gather her supplies. But something wasn’t right.
Lean on Me Page 2