The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5)

by Krista Sandor

  He shook his head.

  She took a step toward him and rammed her finger into his chest. “Stop thinking that you’re some kind of goddamned martyr who’s been sentenced to carry this alone. You could have told me all this at any time over the last five years. You have to know it’s not your fault. Just like it’s not Ben’s fault what happened with Sara. Why haven’t you told anyone? Why haven’t you let any of us help you?”

  He ran his hands through his unruly hair and paced back and forth like a caged animal. “I was going crazy, Zoe! It was like being in the Twilight Zone. I was married. Fucking married to a woman who wasn’t all there, and who acted just like my mother. All she wanted to do was talk about the baby. I couldn’t take it. I told her I needed to work on my truck. I’d propped the hood and started writing. I needed to get it all out. I hid the notebook in my car. I didn’t think she even knew about it. But you see, that’s what she did. When we were dating, she went through all my stuff. Address books, mail, grocery receipts, checkbook registers, journals, textbooks. Christ, she probably went through my trash. She wasn’t well. She was fixated on me. But I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  Zoe shook her head. Anger and fury raged through her. “Answer me! Why does your dead wife’s brother know my name?”

  His green eyes flashed wild and unhinged. He took her by the hand and pulled her to the truck. She tried to protest but with one quick, clean rush of movement, he lifted her onto the hood of the vehicle. Now, eye to eye, he leaned in, their faces millimeters apart. He gripped her hips, holding her in place, and dammit if his strong hands didn’t send a rush of heat straight to her core. Her breaths came in sharp gasps as she held his gaze.

  His fingers dug into her flesh. “Because the last word Kara ever said was your name. She repeated your name over and over as she stood on the stone rail of that bridge while her brother and I tried to talk her down. She had my damn journal clutched to her chest when she threw herself off.”

  Zoe had never been struck by lightning, but the insane electrical surge of arousal and utter bewilderment splintered through her like a live current. She fell forward and collapsed into him. Her legs wrapped around him as his cock pressed tight and rock hard between her legs. Her head buried in the crook of his neck, she clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Her breath hitched as one of his hands moved to the small of her back, pressing her in closer while the other tangled itself in her hair. She lifted her head and met his gaze.

  God help her, those green eyes, tortured and swimming with desire, owned her. She wanted to hate him for keeping this from her. But she also wanted his lips, his tongue, his hands. She wanted him to rip off her panties, shrug down his pants and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Fuck her until everything disappeared. Her body remembered every inch of his hard length, stretching her, filling her, pinning her to the bed and claiming her body, one delicious thrust at a time.

  “Sam,” she breathed, their lips so close.

  He tightened his hold. Time stretched between them. But before their lips could meet, he let go and stepped back, leaving her to slide down the side of the truck. Knees weak. Body quivering.

  “Zoe!” he cried, the word laced with pain and regret so acute it punctured her soul.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest as if holding herself from exploding into a million pieces. From the cab of the truck, a soft chime carried out onto the country road. For a moment, she couldn’t place it, her thoughts too scattered. Her body aching for more of Sam’s touch. After another few seconds, it hit her.

  It was her phone and the reminder that she was expected at the couples retreat with the intent of investigating the girls’ juvenile detention facility.

  “Sam,” she whispered.

  He met her gaze. His eyes wide and hyper-alert as if he’d just woken up from some crazy dream.

  “We have to go. We’re expected at the couples retreat.”

  It almost seemed insane that real life could encroach on this moment. Like this country road existed in some alternate dimension, and nothing from their real lives should be able to touch it. He nodded, and they climbed into the truck. Sam started the engine and gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, jaw clenched.

  Her body still trembled from his touch. Holy hell! What had just happened? She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of the gravel road and the rumble of the truck’s engine when she inhaled Sam’s subtle scent of peppermint and soap, and everything hit her like a punch to the gut. She needed to focus on her plan for when they arrived at the retreat, but she couldn’t. She wanted to sob. She wanted to scream. A pregnant young woman—Sam’s wife—had jumped to her death, and her last word was Zoe.

  Her name.

  What had Sam written that had triggered such a response? She shook her head. Of course, any woman poking holes in condoms and forcing a man to marry her was mentally ill and seriously deranged. But she still needed to know what Kara had read.

  The trucked slowed to a stop. Zoe opened her eyes. They’d come to a fork in the road.

  “Do you have directions to the place?” he asked, eyes forward.

  “Yeah.” She reached into her purse and took out the map. “It looks like we should veer right and then head down that country road for about fifteen miles. The confirmation I got from the retreat says that there should be a sign marking the turnoff to get to the property. I don’t think the road even has a name.”

  They continued down the country road. After a few minutes, she turned to him. “I need to know what Kara read. I need to know what you wrote about me.”

  He shook his head and tightened his grip. “What would that change, Zoe? It doesn’t bring Kara or the baby back. It doesn’t undo what I put you through.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “I just learned that a woman killed herself after reading something written by you about me. I want to know what the hell it is.”

  “We’re not going there. You think you want to know. You think that because you know everything about everybody, you need to know this. You don’t. I have lived with this for damn near half my life. Just let it go, Z!”

  “Let it go? How am I supposed to let it go? What? Do you just want to go back to being best friends, best buddies? Zoe and Sam, partners in crime. Got a problem? Share it with Langley Park’s platonic duo! They have no personal lives of their own. So, they’ll be happy to help solve all your relationship issues!”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “Isn’t it enough that you know? You know about Kara. You know about the baby. You know what a monster I am!”

  “Monster?” she shot back.

  “What else would you call someone who’s caused that kind of pain?”

  She didn’t even know where to start. “But you didn’t intend to. And Kara wasn’t well.”

  “Everything I’ve done, the choices I’ve made. They’ve stained us, Zoe. My choices have left a stain on anything we could ever be.”

  His words hit her like a slap in the face.

  “You know how I feel about you, Sam! You’ve always known,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “That’s the hardest part.”

  “What? What’s so hard about me loving you? All our friends, they’ve beaten the odds to be together. Why can’t we?”

  “Because what I carry kills me a little each day. And I’m sure as fuck not going to do that to you!”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “You wouldn’t even try?”

  He shook his head and said nothing.

  They drove in silence for a long time, the open road stretching before them. Zoe closed her eyes, trying to center herself, wishing she’d paid more attention to her mother’s meditation ramblings.

  After a few more minutes, the truck slowed then stopped.

  “I think this is it,” Sam said.

  She looked out and saw the sign for the retreat. “Yeah, this is it.”

  The place looked more like a compound than a farm. Fencin
g surrounded what they could see of the property, and an imposing gate greeted them. It was open but when closed, it must have looked quite formidable.

  Sam started to turn onto the gravel drive toward the farm, but she stopped him. “You’re supposed to be my husband.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the rings. “Find one that fits.”

  He took the rings. One by one, he tried them on.

  “They all fit,” he said, staring at the bands.

  “Pick the one you like the best then,” she said.

  Sam fingered each band then chose the braided white gold band she’d purchased from the antique shop. “This one.”

  She willed her hands not to shake, fished out the matching braided band, and slid it onto her ring finger.

  He put his ring on and held out his hand. Zoe put her hand next to his. They were a perfect match, but that made her want to vomit. Wedding bands were supposed to be a symbol of undying love. But these bits of metal only taunted her. Glaring symbols of what she would never have with him. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that she had to pretend to be Sam’s wife.

  His second wife.

  She pulled her hand back. “They look fine. Let’s go. We’re already late.”

  Sam shifted the truck into gear. “What kind of couples’ thing is this?”

  “It’s some New Age enhance your marital connection thing. I didn’t look much into the itinerary. I figured I’d be here with Cam, trying to find some time to get a look at the detention facility. Plus, I’ve endured years of my mother’s Buddhas and crystals and cleansing breaths. This can’t be much worse than that.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched as the whisper of a sad smile appeared on his lips before fading. She looked away. Why did this have to be so hard? Why couldn’t he tell her everything?

  The truck turned a corner, and a farmhouse appeared. Two-stories high and painted barn red with white trim, the structure looked to be new or recently renovated. It was also quite large with a welcoming wraparound porch dotted with rocking chairs. Sam parked the truck next to three other cars—all minivans, most likely their couples retreat counterparts.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the ring on his left hand.

  “You only have to wear it when we’re with the group,” she said, grabbing her purse.

  “Zoe, I want to help you. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  She stared at him.

  “Z.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t want you to call me that anymore. Can you do that for me?”

  When she opened her eyes, he was still watching her. She could see the struggle, feel the tension inside him. Or was that her own energy, swaying wildly between lust, love, anger, and fury?

  He dropped his chin to his chest. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  He removed their bags from the bed of the truck and carried them to the house. A large sign with Namaste written in a curly font hung over the door.

  Zoe pointed to the sign. “See, it can’t be that bad. It’ll be like spending the next couple of days in my mom’s yoga studio.”

  She knocked on the door.

  There were people inside. She could hear the hum of their conversations. A beat passed, and then the door opened. Wearing rose-colored glasses and a dress that would have fit right in at Woodstock, a woman who looked to be in her early fifties, smiled broadly, several crystals hanging from gold and silver chains around her neck. Zoe half expected her to pull out a stack of tarot cards or start speaking in tongues.

  She waved a hand bejeweled in turquoise rings. “You two must be Zoe and Cam! Come in! You’re the last to arrive. Now we can get naked.”

  12

  “It’s Sam.”

  He stared at the woman. Where the hell had they ended up? It could get weird out in bumble fuck Kansas, but it seemed a little early in the retreat for naked time. And then it hit him. Had he not been with Zoe, she’d be getting naked with some other guy. His chest tightened. Yeah, it would have been their friend, Cam—happily married to Suzie, Cam. But the same rush of anger that had surged through him years ago when that brazen fuck in the bar grabbed Zoe’s ass shot through him.

  The hippie woman slid her tinted glasses down her nose. “I’m sorry. Did you say your name isn’t Cam? It’s Sam?”

  Zoe wrapped her hand around his arm and squeezed. Her touch said shut your pie hole. He glanced down at her. She was sporting a plastic smile and playing the part. If he wanted to do anything other than break her heart—again—he’d get with the damn program and play along, too.

  Zoe dialed up her fake grin. “I must have typed it in wrong when I registered. I’m Zoe and he’s Sam.”

  The woman eyed her. “Bud!”

  Zoe glanced up at him and then back to the woman. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  The woman looked over her shoulder as a wiry man wearing a T-shirt with 100% Hemp written across the front joined them at the door.

  “Do you see this?” the woman asked the man who had to be Bud.

  The man nodded. “Yep, I see it, Harmony.”

  Harmony and Bud. Of course, those would be their names.

  Zoe glanced from side to side. “See what? This is the Intimacy Now couples retreat, right?”

  He didn’t feel so bad. Even Zoe—who could hold her shit together better than anyone—was starting to lose it with these people.

  “It’s your auras,” Harmony said like a doctor delivering a diagnosis. “You got to us just in time. Your relationship needs healing.”

  That was a fucking understatement.

  The hippie lady turned to the man. “Bud, you know what to do.”

  This was crazy! They hadn’t even gotten through the front door. He peeked in over the woman’s head. Three normal looking couples sat together at a large table, fully clothed. Thank Christ!

  Bud was back in a flash with a smoking bundle of green branches bound with string.

  “We just need to do a quick smudging ritual. I can’t let you in with all that.” The woman gestured to the air around them.

  “What’s all that?” Zoe asked.

  “All that muddy red,” the woman said, nodding to Bud who had begun to wave a scented, smoking stick around them.

  “You mean him.” Zoe pointed his way.

  Bud paused. “No, you.”

  Zoe’s eyes went wide. “Me?”

  Harmony nodded. “It’s your aura. Well, it’s both of your auras.”

  She slid the rose-colored glasses down her nose, gaze bouncing between them. “All living things have an aura. It’s bands of light, sound, and vibrations that make up your psychic field.”

  Christ Almighty! This day had to go down in the books as one of the most gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, and now utterly ludicrous days of his life—and it wasn’t even over. After they got through this evening’s New Age bullshit, they’d have to talk about Kara. If there was one thing he knew about Zoe, it was that she didn’t let up. Five years of dancing around what had happened. Five years of holding on to her the only way he knew how had blown up in his face as spectacularly as the fireworks over Lake Boley on the Fourth of July.

  Zoe crossed her arms. “So, it’s our psychic energy that’s keeping you from letting us in?”

  Harmony narrowed her gaze. “Yes, but it’s improving. I thought there might be some black in there. But I was wrong. It’s green, very dark, and trying to lighten and push through.”

  “Are we contagious?” he asked.

  Zoe elbowed him in the ribcage. Jesus! After all she’d been through today, at least she still had her spunk and sass. He didn’t know anything about auras or psychic energy. He glanced down at Zoe who’d pasted the plastic smile back on her face.

  “That’s a good question, Sam.” Harmony scanned the space around their bodies as Bud worked the smoke stick. “The muddy red, that’s anger. Very common for couples arriving here. But the black, that’s an unforgiving, heartless color. It
doesn’t get any darker.”

  His blood went cold, and a chill ran down his spine. Heartless. That’s what he was. Heartless not to want to commit to the woman carrying his child. Heartless to keep the woman he did love at arm’s length—and he’d almost slipped. He’d come so close to telling her what Kara had read and then taking her right there on the hood of his truck.

  “No, what I thought was black was just green trying to work its way through. Green holds loving, creative energy.”

  “Don’t forget the yeller on the feller,” Bud added with a chuckle.

  “The what?” Zoe asked.

  “There’s some yellow hidden in Sam’s aura. It pertains to intelligence and inspiration.”

  He wanted to smile. Had today not have happened and if they weren’t trying to con their way into a marriage encounter retreat, he could only imagine what Zoe could do with some hippie person telling them he was smart.

  Sam? Intelligent? If he had another brain, it would be lonely.

  You must be mistaken. Sam is proof that evolution can go in reverse.

  A wretched thread wound itself around his heart. Would they ever get back to that? Would he ever see that spark in her eyes again? That special twinkle she only gave to him.

  Harmony pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. “I think they’re okay.”

  “We can come in?” Zoe asked.

  “Of course!” Harmony answered, the rings on her fingers clicking as she beckoned them inside. “But you’ll need to surrender your cell phones.” She retrieved a canvas pouch and held it open. “We don’t want the outside world interfering with the work we do here.”

  He figured Zoe would protest, but she pulled her phone from her purse and dropped it in the bag. Harmony tapped the bag, and he took his phone out of his pocket and slid it into the bag next to Zoe’s. Then he took in their surroundings. While Bud and Harmony looked as if they lived in a Volkswagen bus from the sixties, the farmhouse was the complete opposite. With gleaming hardwood floors, whitewash cabinetry, plush seating areas, and plants and candles tastefully lining the counters and side tables, the interior of the farmhouse looked like something straight out of a Pottery Barn catalog.