Killer Romances

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  He’d missed his home town, missed the comfort of knowing everyone, and of everyone knowing him; missed the isolation of a pine forest and the striking power of the granite hills. He missed his dad, but he’d always missed his dad, even when he lived here. Knowing his father would be home every weekend was enough only because he had his mom to pick up the slack.

  Thinking of her now, surrounded by the beauty that she so dearly loved, he ached to tell her just how much he missed her. Needed her to know how sorry he was that he hadn’t spent more time with her when he could. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes as he remembered her easy laughter and the way she’d always looked at him with love, no matter what he had done to deserve different.

  Suddenly, the sweet scent of jasmine filled the car as he rounded the bend at the base of the mountain. Stepping on the brakes, he brought the car to an abrupt halt, closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar perfume. It was as if his mother’s arms were around him, enveloping him with her soft scent as she offered comfort to her only son.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Mac whispered as the jasmine faded away. Wiping a stray tear from his cheek, he gave one last glance to the snow-covered peaks and turned the car towards town, feeling lighter than he had in years.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hello there, Missy,” John stood and stretched as Chelsea made her way from the car. The pain in his back was getting worse, but it wouldn’t do to let on just yet. Smiling at the young woman walking towards him, he was once again grateful for the opportunity to help her with a fresh start. The longer he worked with Chelsea, the more he liked and respected her. Always with an easy smile and a kind word for him and his crew, Chelsea was exactly the kind of woman that he hoped his Mac would settle down with. He still didn’t get why Mac seemed so prickly, whenever this one came around. Martha would know; he only wished he could ask her.

  “Morning, John. The house looks amazing!” Chelsea couldn’t take her eyes off the sapphire blue façade, complimented by white trim around the windows and what would soon be a white front porch.

  “It does, doesn’t it? Nice choice of color, Missy.”

  “Mac helped, the blue was his idea. I love it,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

  “He always did have a good eye,” John smiled at her obvious joy. “At least for architecture.” The last part he said to himself. “Did you stop on the way in, see the progress he’s making on the restaurant?”

  “No, I was so excited to see the house, that I drove straight here. Sharon’s coming over soon, so we’ll go back down together, check it out.”

  “I’ll go with you; Mac should have the roof on her by now.”

  “Already? I didn’t even notice.” Chelsea looked at John, noted how pale he seemed in the harsh sunlight. “Are you okay, John? Can I get you some water?”

  “No, no, Missy, I’m fine. Let’s go inside, take a look at the staircase. I think you’ll like it.”

  Chelsea kept a close eye on John as they toured the improvements to the B&B. His color seemed to improve as they walked, but he still looked uncomfortable.

  Sharon arrived just as they reached the kitchen, eager to see the changes.

  “Oh my God, this is fabulous! I may have to move in here with you,” she told Chelsea as she entered.

  “You’d be welcome,” Chelsea smiled. “I’m amazed at the progress each time I come. I have to pinch myself to believe that it’s mine.”

  “Love the window, can you imagine prepping in here? Could we have one like it at the other kitchen?” Sharon twirled around to John.

  “I don’t see why not,” smiling indulgently, he nodded. Seeing the girls’ excitement truly warmed his heart and helped overshadow the pain racing through his body.

  “Why don’t I take Sharon on a quick tour, then we’ll find you before we go down to the restaurant.” Chelsea didn’t want to make John walk the entire property again.

  “Sounds good, I’ll be out front.” Grateful for the chance to retreat and take his medication, John left.

  “Is he okay?” Sharon asked after John was out of earshot.

  “I don’t know, he looked pale earlier; something’s definitely off.” Worry lines creased Chelsea’s forehead.

  “Maybe he’s just tired. He has to be putting in a lot of hours on this place. I can’t believe how far along it is.”

  “Wait till you see upstairs, come on.” Grabbing her hand, Chelsea led the way.

  ~~~

  “Okay, that’s good, release it,” Mac yelled to the crane operator lowering the roof trusses onto the shell of the restaurant.

  Chelsea, Sharon and John stood by the car, well away from the commotion. With the last truss in place, Mac’s crew swarmed the structure, attaching the beams and preparing to close it in.

  “When will they lower it onto the ledge?” Chelsea asked as she watched Mac speak to the foreman.

  “He’ll get the walls up this afternoon, then lower it tomorrow morning. They’ll finish the roof when it’s in place on the rock.” John told her.

  “How will the workers get down to the site?” Sharon wanted to know.

  “Scaffolding, for the time being. We’ll have the elevators in place first of the week.” John assured her.

  “You know, you hear nightmares about construction, about it taking so long, things going wrong, but everything is moving so fast here, that it’s almost hard to believe.” Chelsea commented just as Mac came to join them.

  “You can thank Dad and his contacts for that,” he said, placing his hand on his father’s arm. “I’ve been doing this for more than ten years, but I’ve never seen anything move as quickly as this project.”

  “I’ve made a few friends over the years,” John said by way of an explanation, leaving out the part about the small fortune he was paying to speed things along.

  “More than a few, I’d say.” Sharon laughed and slipped her arm through his. “Why don’t you show me the layout for the event room and the kitchen? We can talk about that picture window.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” John patted her hand and moved off towards the site.

  The faint scent of jasmine teased Mac’s senses as Chelsea moved to stand closer to him. That’s odd, he thought, I’ve never noticed her perfume before. The aroma left as quickly as it came, telling him that it was not Chelsea’s perfume he was noticing. Smiling slightly, he shook his head at his mom’s timing. Was she telling him to give the woman a chance? Was she giving her blessing to Chelsea and his dad?

  “I’m a little worried about John,” Chelsea said softly.

  “Dad? Why?” Mac’s eyes shot quickly to his father, now walking the painted lines of the event room.

  “He’s pale, and he doesn’t seem himself. Have you noticed anything?”

  Mac thought back to the night at the diner last week when John was in obvious pain. He’d blamed it on the enchiladas, which it well could have been.

  “Hard to say, Dad’s not one to complain.”

  “It could be nothing, but let’s keep an eye on him, okay?”

  Instant irritation at Chelsea’s proprietary attitude towards his father washed over Mac. She’d been in his life, what, five minutes and already she thought she knew more than he did.

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of him.” His response was unnecessarily harsh, causing Chelsea to cut her eyes at him.

  “John’s a friend, so don’t tell me not to worry.” Chelsea’s reply was equally sharp. She’d had just about enough of Mac’s roller coaster attitude. It was time to find out exactly what his problem was with her.

  Before she could say anything further, a black Mercedes rounded the bend, rolling to a stop a few feet away. The windows were tinted, but Chelsea knew who was behind the wheel.

  “Crap,” she hissed and all thoughts of confronting Mac fled. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “Who?” Mac asked, more than a little curious at Chelsea’s reaction.

  Ignoring him, Chelsea stalke
d to the car just as Preston stepped out.

  “What do you want, Preston?” Standing with her feet spread apart, arms crossed in front of her, Chelsea appeared to be ready for battle.

  “Hello, sweetness. It’s lovely to see you, too.” Preston’s voice was as smooth as silk. Arms outstretched, he walked to Chelsea as if to give her a hug.

  Chelsea stepped back, avoiding his embrace. Her stance did not change, nor did her composure.

  “I asked what you’re doing here.” She stated coldly.

  “What do you think I’m doing here, Honey? I came to check on you. You haven’t been returning my calls.” He pouted charmingly. He had become so adept at concealing his inner demons, that donning a mask was as easy as breathing.

  “I don’t need you checking on me, Preston. I don’t need you at all. I thought you got that message the last time we spoke.” Chelsea’s eyes bore into his.

  “Are you still angry about our tiff? I’m sorry that I cooled things off, but I thought you needed time with your mom.” Hoping to make her vulnerable, Preston dropped his voice and continued. “I really am sorry about your loss, Chels. I know that must have been hard.” He took a small step forward, testing the waters.

  “You have no idea.” Chelsea took another step back, this time with her hands on her hips. “Thank you for your condolences. You can leave now.” Chelsea didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to air past hurts in front of Mac, John and the crew. It took every ounce of self-control that she possessed not to tell Preston exactly what she thought of him.

  “But, Honey, I came all this way just to see you,” Preston smiled, practically reading her mind.

  “Well look what the cat dragged in,” Sharon’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she came up behind Chelsea.

  “Sharon,” Preston nodded in her direction, his tone less than cordial.

  “Preston was just leaving.” Chelsea told her, her eyes never leaving Preston’s.

  “Good.” Sharon moved to stand beside Chelsea, mocking her stance.

  Mac watched the two women stand their ground, both of them obviously tense and ready to fight. The stranger seemed harmless enough, dressed in expensive labels from head to toe. Mac doubted that he would move fast enough to risk scuffing his Gucci loafers. Still, he inched closer to Chelsea until he felt his dad’s hand grip his arm.

  “Let her handle it, son,” John’s warning was soft and low.

  “Actually, I’m not going anywhere,” Preston noted the menacing look on the faces of the men standing well behind Chelsea and Sharon, prompting him to make a quick change in his plans. “Not far, anyway. I’m staying in town, some dreadful place called the Sunset. I was hoping to take you to dinner tonight. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “We have nothing to discuss, tonight or any other time. Go home, Preston. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’m not interested in you.”

  Anger swept over Preston, but he managed to keep it to himself.

  “I’m not leaving until we speak, Chelsea. We can drag this out as long as you like. You know where to find me.” Nodding, he walked casually back to the car.

  Neither Chelsea nor Sharon moved until the Mercedes was out of sight. As soon as it disappeared, Sharon put her arm around Chelsea.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Chelsea answered curtly. “I’m fine. Son of a bitch.”

  “That’s Preston. What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. He can stay in town until hell freezes over. I’m not wasting one more second on him.”

  “How did he know where to find you?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care.” Chelsea finally relaxed only to realize that her hands were shaking. “Dammit, why can’t he just leave me alone?”

  “Is everything all right?” Mac asked, still keeping his distance.

  “Everything’s fine,” Chelsea answered, pasting on a smile before she turned around. “Just an old acquaintance dropping by. Nothing to worry about.”

  “If you say so,” Mac noticed her hands shaking, but decided not to push it. “Why don’t we take a look at the layout? You mentioned something about a picture window?”

  Grateful for the diversion, Chelsea followed Mac and John to the site, Sharon not far behind.

  ~~~

  So the bitch thought she could dismiss him, Preston fumed silently as he wound his way back down the mountain. She had not one ounce of appreciation that he’d taken the time to drive hundreds of miles and set up in a fleabag motel for the sole reason of checking on her, at least as far as she knew. But that was Chelsea. She hadn’t considered his feelings when she left him to care for her mother, it wasn’t a surprise that she failed to recognize his generosity now. Not only did she ignore his magnanimous gesture, she was downright antagonistic towards him. In hindsight, perhaps moving her out of their home during her mother’s illness was not the best move. But it did save her the hardship of packing.

  Sighing at the thought of the effort it would require to get back in her good graces and therefore gain entry to her life, Preston considered his options. He wouldn’t be here now if the money in his trust fund was not nearly depleted. Chelsea’s inheritance was not a lot, by his standards, but it was enough to keep him running until something better came along. From the looks of things, he had arrived barely in time to salvage a portion of the money; God only knew how much she had already squandered on the property and construction for the B&B.

  What in the hell had made her think she could operate a bed and breakfast? Who in their right mind would visit this podunk town, much less pay for the privilege of spending the night on top of that pile of dirt and rocks?

  As he neared the outskirts of Starsdale, Preston convinced himself that by killing Chelsea and taking her remaining inheritance, he was saving her the embarrassment of failure. Without funds, she couldn’t continue the construction, couldn’t open a business that would surely go under within the first few months. All things considered, he was actually doing her a favor. Besides, he nodded to himself, the money was rightfully his. He had been her fiancé; everything she owned now belonged to him.

  Smiling at the prospect of doing a good deed while taking his due, Preston turned into the Sunset Lodge. Shuddering at the faded paint and the general feeling of disrepair, he took a deep breath and vowed to find better accommodations tomorrow. Perhaps by then, Chelsea would come to her senses and invite him to stay with her. The sooner he obtained access to her life and determined that a second will did not exist, the sooner he could complete this chapter and move on.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What are you going to do about Preston?” Sharon stood inside the open door of her car, preparing to leave for work.

  “Nothing. What should I do?” Chelsea rested against the front of the car, imagining the types of shrubs that would look best around the porch. She had purposefully put Preston out of her mind, at least she was trying.

  “You’ll have to do something. I’m sure he’ll be back here or at the house. Bad pennies always have a way of turning up.”

  “If he shows up again, I’ll threaten him with a restraining order. He won’t like that, it could hurt his reputation.”

  “If you think a piece of paper will stop him, you should think again. He wouldn’t come all the way up here without a good reason. You know as well as I do it’s about the money. He probably thinks you’re loaded, since your mom passed. He’s after his share,” Sharon said with disgust.

  Chelsea laughed. “Well he’s in for a rude awakening, not that I intend for him to get close enough to find out how little I have left. It’s none of his business. Besides, Preston doesn’t need my money. He has plenty of his own.”

  “So he wants you to think,” Sharon told her. “Why do you think he’s here?”

  “Who knows? Maybe he misses me, or wants free legal advice. I really don’t care. He can cool his heels at the Sunset for as long as he likes, as long as he stays away from me.”

&n
bsp; “I can’t see him staying there for very long,” Sharon wrinkled her nose. “The place has seen better days, it’s not exactly Preston’s style.”

  “Good, maybe that will prompt him to move on sooner.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. That man’s on a mission,” Sharon said with conviction.

  “If he is, it’s doomed to fail.” Determined to change the subject, Chelsea nodded towards the porch. “What do you think about roses around the border? Or azaleas?”

  “Roses bloom longer here, but azaleas are nice too. Have you spoken with a landscaper?”

  “The closest one is in Monroe. I thought I’d save money and do the plantings myself.”

  “I can help. I’ll stop by the nursery on my way to work, see what they suggest.”

  “Thanks. I’m also considering hydrangeas, but a professional opinion would be nice.”

  “Hydrangeas would work on the left side of the house, but not in the front, too much sun.” Mac came over the hill to Sharon’s car. “My mother grew hydrangeas, you can probably get some cuttings from Dad.” Where did that come from, Mac thought as soon as the words escaped.

  “Thanks, I’ll ask him.” Surprised at the generous offer, Chelsea turned to give him a smile.

  “Gotta run, I’ll see you both later.” Sharon slid into the car and closed the door.

  “See ya, Sharon.” Chelsea pushed away from the car and waved her friend away.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt,” Mac said as he watched Sharon leave.

  “No, she has to be at work soon. What color were your mom’s hydrangeas?”

  “Pink, purple and blue,” Mac answered, a smile softening his face. “She always loved it when I picked a bouquet for her, said it made the house feel like summer.”

  “You must have loved growing up around here,” Chelsea enjoyed the unexpected camaraderie.

 

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