The Rogue

by Jennifer Bernard

  “What?” Max yelled again.

  The sound of Max’s raised voice lanced through Griffin’s bad ear, leaving it ringing. Ever since this whole thing started, he’d struggled with how to handle loud noises. They careened around his head like pinballs.

  “Mom freaked out too, until I showed her that I was completely in control, even steering one-handed,” he assured everyone.

  “Amanda knew about this and never told me?” Max’s voice rose again.

  Griffin exchanged a look with his siblings. That applied to much of their childhood.

  Nicole waved a hand in the air for attention. “Could everyone maybe stop upsetting Max? You know he’s not supposed to get his blood pressure up. Can we change the subject to something more peaceful? For instance, I love the way the roof looks. You guys did an amazing job.”

  “Yeah, it looks like it might actually not cave in this winter. Damn. I’d put my money on February fifteenth,” Jake joked. He’d already finished his roast chicken and was sitting back in his chair, hands on his stomach.

  “I said everything would be fine, so does that mean I win, now that it’s fixed and everything’s fine?” asked Gracie.

  “You kids are betting on when your family legacy is going to collapse?” Max snorted. “Go to the devil, the lot of you.”

  “Oh Dad. You know we’re just joking. That’s what we do.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “And while we’re clearing the air, there might be a few other things I should probably not mention…”

  That caught Griffin’s attention. Maybe there was a graceful way he could find out if Gracie had any secrets that Coach Nelson could use against her. It seemed unlikely since she’d only completed two years of high school before switching to an online home schooling program. “Let it out, sis. The truth will set you free.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, then deliberately filled her mouth with a massive bite of mashed potatoes.

  After dinner, he maneuvered them both into the kitchen by offering to do the dishes if she dried them.

  Which made him think of washing dishes with Serena, and how she’d looked in those leggings, with that smile and…

  Focus.

  “I have a serious question for you, Gracie.”

  “Oh come on.” His sister flicked soap suds at him. “You know I hate serious.”

  “I went to see Coach Nelson down at the high school.”

  “That creep? Ew.”

  So she did know him. “You think he’s a creep? What do you know about him?”

  “I don’t know him at all, myself. I’d barely recognize him. But my friends who played on his team were scared of him. Why’d you go see him?”

  “Oh, long story. Unfinished business from when I played for him. Your friends are right, he’s an ass. Anyway, he made this weird threat. He made it sound like he could expose some kind of secret about one of my sisters. He didn’t say which sister, and since you’re here, well—do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

  Gracie paused, dish-towel in hand. Her face drooped, her lower lip quivered. Griffin recognized that expression from when she used to beg for ice cream cones at the age of six. “I can’t believe Coach Nelson knows about my secret baby.”

  “What?” Griffin angled toward her, wondering if he’d misheard because of his bad ear.

  “I didn’t think anyone knew. I keep him in the garage, you know, and visit when I can. I’ve taught him to be very quiet and not give himself away. The problem is that I honestly don’t know who his father is. There were so many ski instructors here that winter, each one more hunky than the last…”

  “Okay, okay.” Griffin laughed, shaking his head at his gullibility. “I think I’ve been away too long. You totally got me.”

  His little sister shot him a delighted look. “I totally did! Yay me! But since you’re trying to be serious, honestly, I don’t have any hugely embarrassing secrets. I mean, would Coach Nelson care that I rarely wear deodorant?”

  “Doubtful. He’s surrounded by sweat all day long.”

  “Or that I prefer dating tourists because they don’t know or care about the Rockwells? Or that I have a secret addiction to those Choco Tacos they sell at the Depot?”

  “Are those good? They look like they’ve been there for decades.” He handed her a plate he’d just rinsed.

  “I think I’m the only one who likes them, so they don’t replenish their stock very often. Anyway, the answer is no, I have no idea what he’s talking about. He’s probably just a bully trying to get in your head.” She finished drying the last pot and hung up the dishtowel.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, Gracie. Now I know what to get you for Christmas.”

  “A case of Choco Tacos?”

  “I was thinking deodorant.”

  She launched a flurry of light punches aimed at his shoulder, which he laughingly fended off.

  Reaching Isabelle was never easy, but he managed it later that night.

  She scoffed at the whole concept of extortion-by-coach. “Even if that fat bastard knew anything about me, why would I care if he shared it? I don’t live in Rocky Peak any more, and even if I did, they can think what they want about me. I don’t care and never did.”

  Definitely true. Isabelle had always gone her own way, fierce and unashamed.

  “But maybe Jake would care. Twins and all.”

  “Jake knows me. He knows better than to fight my battles for me. Besides, if anyone is likely to have a secret that the coach knows, it’s Jake. He’s the one who’s been living in Rocky Peak.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t say ‘brother,’ he specifically said ‘sister’.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Blowhards are gonna blowhard, maybe?”

  He laughed. “Man, I can’t wait to see you again, Iz. Thanksgiving, right?”

  “Right, so soon! I’m excited too. Gracie said the mysterious silent investor is coming. And Jake said he invited his new waitress because she’s new in town. And I still haven’t met Nicole! I’m so excited I can barely sit still.”

  “You can never sit still anyway.”

  “I’m a surgeon, motorhead. I stand perfectly still for hours at a time, while you zoom around a mudbath over and over again.”

  “Zoomed,” he corrected. “I retired, didn’t you hear?”

  “Dad said something about it, but he put it more like, you’re taking a break until you get your head out of your ass.”

  Griffin shook his head, even though of course Isabelle couldn’t see that gesture. Mad Max might never accept his new status in life. But he’d have to. Every day that passed, Griffin was more sure that racing was not in his future.

  What was? Still not clear, although ideas were beginning to form. Rocky Peak…the wilderness….kids desperate for leadership, the way he’d been…He was an adult now, someone with a voice…how would he use it?

  Now that he was back, the mountains were holding him close. Their towering magnificence, their serenity and wildness, all of it wove together into a kind of song urging him to stay.

  “Don’t let Dad bully you,” Izzy was saying. “I know how good he is at it, because he fought to the last moment to keep me from going to med school. You have to follow your own muse. I’ve got your back, Griff, don’t worry.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot, especially coming from someone with a scalpel.”

  She laughed. “Speaking of which, it looks like a patient just came in with a machete wound to the leg, yikes…”

  He took her cue and hung up. Isabelle often ended calls to her brothers and sisters on a bloody note. The Rockwell irreverence combined with her medical expertise added up to some strange goodbyes.

  Even though Serena saw the Blast Off party as a distraction from her goal, as soon as she and Griffin hit the road for the airport, she was glad for a break. Especially a break in the company of someone like Griffin. He was always such a strong, solid presence that something in her relaxed around him. That chip on her s
houlder, the need to be sassy, to stand out, to be noticed—all of that dissolved around him.

  With him, she didn’t feel like a “ghost person” because he really saw her. If that made any sense.

  On the short flight to Santa Barbara, Griffin filled her in on the key players at the party, his sponsor, his ex-manager, his rep. The more he talked about the party, the more tense he got. She wondered if it would be hard to return to his old world for just one night.

  “Is it going to be weird seeing all your racing friends?”

  “None of my friends are going to be there. This is a corporate type of scene. I’m just decoration. Cue the suit selfies.”

  “Is that why you’re nervous?”

  “Do I seem nervous? I’m not nervous.”

  He was definitely nervous. Or something. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but maybe she just hadn’t known him long enough.

  “I’m a little nervous,” she confessed. “Social events are not my specialty. I skipped out early from my own gallery opening once because I was so stressed. This will be easier because you’ll be in the spotlight, not me.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Are you so sure about that? Gracie said she found you an “uber-hot outfit”—her words. She told me I better keep my jaw off the floor when I see it.”

  Serena smiled at him. “Gracie’s a sweetheart. It is a nice dress, but for a model-dater like you, probably nothing special.”

  “You, Serena Riggs, and the words ‘nothing special’ don’t belong in the same sentence.” And he gave her the smile that had “rogue” written all over it.

  “Oh my God. You are just nothing but trouble, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, I’m the one who might help you find information about your dad. You should be nicer to me.”

  “I’m always nice to people.”

  Funny—Griffin reacted with the same kind of snort that Jake had when she’d told him that.

  14

  Serena hadn’t held out any hope for the glassblowers shop, but she was wrong. The owner and principal creator of the stunning pieces displayed in the shop happened to be present when they arrived. He wore a loose cotton smock and had a shaved head and an intricate snake tattoo up his neck.

  Griffin showed him the pendant. He peered at it with a nostalgic smile.

  “I used to make those about twenty years ago, when I was starting out, but I’m making bigger pieces now. Sorry.”

  “No, we’re actually trying to find out who bought it.”

  “In those days, I was all cash. I was just a surfer kid who couldn’t believe people wanted to buy my stuff.”

  “I know what you mean. I do art too, it’s always a shocker every time I get a new commission.”

  “Why don’t you show him the photo,” Griffin suggested. “He might remember a face.”

  “I always remember faces,” said the glassblower. “Don’t always remember the name that goes with them.”

  Sure it was pointless—convinced that this was a complete red herring—Serena pulled out her photo of her father and passed it to the glassblower.

  “Oh sure. I remember him. Years ago. Yeah, back in the early days, sure. He came here with a woman. They might have bought one of these pendants, or maybe some earrings. Those were popular too. Don’t remember exactly.”

  Chills were running up and down Serena’s spine. “Do you remember anything else? What about the woman?”

  “She was beautiful, I remember that. Late thirties, maybe forty. Light hair, laughing.”

  Serena glanced over at Griffin and caught his stunned expression. From everything she’d heard about Amanda Rockwell, that description probably fit perfectly.

  “Is there anything else you remember?” she asked, since Griffin seemed to have lost the power of speech.

  “Sorry, no. I’m pretty sure he bought the necklace for her. But she might have said something about never being able to wear it. I remember that being odd because why buy a piece of jewelry you could never wear?”

  Griffin and Serena both left the shop in a state of shock. “So…your father and my mother?” he said as they strolled down the sunny Santa Barbara street to the hotel.

  “Maybe they were just friends?” She touched his arm, feeling the tension in the corded muscles. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “My parents had their problems. We all knew that. It’s just—this makes it more real, I guess. You’re right, though. We don’t know what it means. It’s ancient history anyway.” He looked at his phone. “We should get ready.”

  Her heart sank as she took in his tight expression. All she wanted was to find out what had happened to her father. She hadn’t thought about whether anyone else would get hurt in the process. Especially not Griffin or Jake or the rest of the Rockwell family.

  On the other hand, now she knew for sure that Rocky Peak was where she needed to be to solve the mystery. Frank Riggs had been connected to Amanda Rockwell. That was probably why he’d gone to Rocky Peak. But then what had happened?

  Griffin’s sponsor had booked them a suite with two bedrooms on either side of a common area with a blissfully comfortable seating area and a spectacular bouquet of peonies set on the coffee table.

  Serena kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the plush two-inch pile carpet, which felt like a massage for the soles of her feet. As a usually starving artist, she rarely got a taste of this kind of opulence. Savoring each luxurious step, she padded to the coffee table, where Griffin was reading the tag that came with the bouquet.

  “Secret admirer?” she joked, since she assumed the flowers came from his sponsor.

  He shot her an embarrassed look. “In a way, yes. It’s from someone at my ex-manager’s office.” He passed her the note.

  “Good news/bad news,” she read aloud. “I hear that we’re no longer repping you. Sad face. It’s been a pleasure working with you. Perhaps other pleasures lie ahead—unrelated to work. Kisses, Bethany.” Her head jerked up, eyes going wide. “Um…wow. That’s a pretty blatant invitation.”

  “I told her I was bringing a date.”

  “It’s not really a date…”

  “It’s a date,” he said firmly. “That’s all Bethany has to know.”

  He looked so disturbed that she couldn’t help teasing him, just a little. “Are you sure you don’t want me to switch to a different room? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of whatever pleasures might lie ahead.”

  “Don’t you dare abandon me.” His dark eyebrows pulled together in a stern frown. “You agreed to help fend off attention, remember?”

  “Unwanted attention.”

  “Believe me, this qualifies.” He flicked the card onto the table. “She’s not my type.”

  She buried her head in the mauve peonies and peace lilies that made up the bouquet. To be honest with herself, she didn’t want some smooth-talking PR woman putting the moves on Griffin. Even though she and Griff weren’t “involved,” she cared about him. Beyond their attraction, there was something else—a mutual understanding, a sympathy, two people recognizing something in each other.

  Face it, she didn’t want someone else stepping in the way of whatever was going on with her and Griffin.

  “You know, I think I know exactly what to do with these flowers. You want to send a message, right?”

  He grinned. “I sense mischief. Go for it.”

  * * *

  The most stunning of the peonies, a deep fuchsia with delicate ruffled petals, looked incredible tucked into the side of her updo. The flower added a splash of color to her slinky black dress, which bared her shoulders and most of her back. From the jeweled collar that fit snugly around her neck, the dress flowed nearly to the floor and made her feel like a queen.

  She’d even bought some gorgeous high-heeled strappy knock-off Jimmy Choos to go with it. Normally she avoided heels, since they made her feel like a giant. But with Griffin, she didn’t worry about that sort of thing. He was tall enough, broad enough, and most of all
, confident enough that he wouldn’t mind if she played it to the hilt.

  Just as Gracie had predicted, the expression on Griffin’s face when she walked out of her bedroom made her heart sing with satisfaction.

  His mouth literally fell open. “Holy shit, you look amazing.”

  So did he, in his tailored tux, complete with onyx cufflinks. Rough-edged Griffin was gone; this guy was one hundred percent sophisticated stunner.

  “Do you like what I did with the flower?”

  “What flower?”

  She laughed as his eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in every body-hugging inch of her dress.

  Thank God for Spanx.

  She gestured at her hair, touching the fresh velvety petals of the peony. “It’s a little message to Bethany, woman to woman.”

  “How is that a message?” His gaze dipped back down to her dress, then he dragged it back up. “Sorry, I’ll stop devouring you with my eyes any minute now.”

  Actually, she didn’t mind at all. The look on Griffin’s face—wholehearted admiration—made her feel utterly beautiful and appreciated.

  “The message will be perfectly clear. It says, ‘thanks for the flowers you sent to my man, don’t they look good on me? Anything else you send will go directly to me as well, so don’t bother unless you want to empty out your bank account and look like a fool.’”

  He stared at her blankly, then burst out laughing. “I’m going to have to trust you on that. I guess I don’t speak ‘flower language.’”

  “That’s why you brought me, right? To defend you from the masses?” She came forward and slipped her arm through his elbow.

  “I can’t remember anymore, all I know is it’s the best decision I’ve made in years.”

  15

  The Blast Off party was just as challenging as Griffin had feared. Voices echoing where they shouldn’t, people appearing out of nowhere, jokes he’d obviously missed, but had to laugh at anyway because he couldn’t ask everyone to repeat every single thing.