At Wild Rose Cottage (18 page)

Emily traced a pattern on the blanket before looking up at him. “Some women can't get out of abusive relationships. There's guilt and fear and shame involved, and probably stuff that's unique to each situation.”

Thinking back, Trent remembered asking his mother why she didn't leave and she'd stuttered something about loving Gavin and how she was sure it would get better.

“I tried to protect her,” he said. “Dad would break things or punch holes in the plaster walls. She was afraid someone in the family would find out or that we'd be evicted, so I learned how to do repairs.”

Emily nodded.

Trent grinned savagely. “I used to drop things inside the wall, stuff he wanted, and I wrote notes about how much I hated him and threw them in, as well.”

“And the gun,” Emily added softly.

“Right, the gun,” Trent agreed. “I was afraid that sooner or later he'd shoot my mom. In fact, I was afraid
I'd
grab it and shoot
him
one night. Gavin Hawkins was a mean drunk. It's why I don't drink much. Hell, I just don't want to end up like him. Alaina isn't much of a drinker, either. She hates beer and only has a little dry wine now and then. Maybe she subconsciously knows it's a bad idea.”

Now that the dam had broken, it was easier to talk with Emily than Trent had expected. He wasn't sure how he would have expected her to react, but her rational ability to discuss it was a relief.

Her brow creased as if she was thinking deeply. “He never hit Alaina?”

“No,”
Trent returned harshly. “I promised if he ever laid a finger on her, I'd kill him. He knew I meant it, because drunk as he was, it was the one time he backed off.”

A sad smile curved Emily's lips. “So you were a tough guy, even then.”

“Survival required a steep learning curve.”

A buzzing from the alarm clock interrupted them and she pivoted to her knees. “Ohmigosh, the crew will be here in half an hour.” She grabbed clothes from the plastic boxes sitting next to the mattress. “We'll talk more tonight,” she called over her shoulder as she ran for the bathroom.

So she wasn't going to drop it.

But he couldn't spend time trying to convince her otherwise; he didn't want his employees to learn where he'd spent the night and hastily gathered the trail of clothing they'd left through the house. He sorted them out, dropping Emily's inside her door, and was buckling his belt when she flew past with a hurried “I'll get the coffee started.”

As he closed the door, he couldn't stop a lingering gaze at the mattress where they'd spent the night. It had been an extremely enjoyable interlude, with a highly unexpected ending.

Tonight would tell him more.

* * *

A
LAINA
WAS
STILL
furious when she stormed into the office on Saturday morning. Trent hadn't asked her to work that day, but she was so angry, she figured she might as well get boring paperwork done while she had a headful of steam driving her.

What a nerve Mike had, to suggest she'd set him up—as if she didn't have better things to do.

It was time to see Mike for what he really was.

When the office door opened ten minutes later she put on her calmest, most professional expression. Customers and staff didn't care whether the office manager was having a bad weekend; they simply wanted their issues efficiently resolved.

She kept the expression firmly fixed when she saw it was Mike who'd arrived.

“Can I help you?” she asked crisply.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

She glanced at the wall clock. “You're already late for work.”

Mike's jaw hardened. “Dock my pay. Please, Alaina, I want to apologize for yesterday. It was rude and ungracious.”

“You forgot stupid.”

“And stupid,” he agreed. “I didn't think before opening my big mouth and made a fool of myself.”

Alaina closed her desk drawer with a snap. “Apology accepted. You can go to work now.”

“I was also wondering when we could go out to dinner.”

Alaina raised her eyebrow. “You're off the hook. I'm treating my winning bid as a no-strings-attached donation toward the ladder truck.”

“This has nothing to do with the auction. It would mean a lot to me if you'd agree.”

Pursing her lips, Alaina considered how to respond. She was so angry and frustrated with Mike that she could hardly see straight, but if she didn't get to know him better, how could she answer the hard question she kept asking herself?

Was she really in love with Mike Carlisle, or had she mistaken a girlhood fantasy for the real thing?

He was no longer the ambitious boy who'd dazzled Schuyler with his talent and easygoing friendliness. Instead, he was a complicated man with a whole lot of problems. She didn't mind sharing problems with someone she loved, but she no longer knew how she felt about him.

Of course, that could mean she was a fool, that she'd left her life in New York for nothing more than a lingering crush. But she'd be a bigger fool if she didn't figure out whether she loved Mike, or if he'd just been a childish fantasy.

“I'll consider it,” she answered at length.

Mike seemed disappointed not to get an immediate agreement, but that was too bad. She wasn't playing games or trying to dangle him on a hook. Just because he'd finally asked her out was no reason to fall at his feet, even if it turned out that she really loved him. It was time for some equality in their relationship, whether he liked it or not.

“I'll call you later,” Mike said as he stood at the door, watching her intently.

“Fine.”

Strangely, it was almost as if he was seeing her in a new way, but her imagination was probably just working overtime.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

S
OON
AFTER
E
MILY
started the coffee, Trent left to pick up pastries. She had planned to bake something the night before, but other things had pushed that idea out the window.

Trent probably thought being absent when the crew arrived would prevent gossip. Not likely. Someone in the neighborhood was bound to have noticed his truck parked in front of the house all night. She'd already learned that rumor-sharing was a staple entertainment in Schuyler, though people who learned about the break-in might think he'd stayed to keep an eye on the place.

Well...maybe.

Trent worked so hard keeping everyone from knowing a decent guy lurked beneath his tough exterior, people might question him having an altruistic impulse.

“Hell, Em,” Vince yelped when he saw plywood over the window he'd helped glaze three days earlier. “What happened?”

“Someone broke in,” she explained.

A sad-faced Caveman went to get a broom to clean up the glass while Eduardo gave her a comforting hug.

“What a horrid thing to happen,” Eduardo said.

“Yeah, and if I ever lay my hands on the guy who did it, he'll have thorny wild rose canes up his nose...or another part of his anatomy,” she promised.

The men chuckled.

Mike wasn't there yet, which seemed strange. He was always on time—the Big Sky crews were known for their reliability. He hustled in twenty minutes later and gave her a sheepish smile.

“Hi,” he said. “Sorry I'm late. I, uh, went by the office to discuss something with Alaina.”

“That's okay.” Emily hoped the discussion was more than dutifully checking when Alaina wanted to have dinner with the bachelor she'd won at the auction.

Mike glanced around. “Where's Trent?”

“He was here earlier, but decided to get doughnuts.” Pretending she hadn't seen him would just raise more questions.

After finishing their coffee, the men launched into work. Emily was putting the cups into her new dishwasher when the phone rang. It was Alaina asking if she'd be able to have lunch. Emily hoped she had good news to share, but the tight, weary sound in her friend's voice didn't sound promising.

“Sure, how about getting something from Simpson's Deli?”

“Sounds good. I'll meet you there at noon.”

When Trent walked in a short time later, she smiled nonchalantly.

“I explained that you were here early and decided to go out for pastries,” she said, in case there might be listening ears.

“I picked up an assortment.”

Nodding as if nothing unusual had happened, she went to see if she could help Eduardo dismantle the upstairs bathroom.

A few hours later she left to meet Alaina at the deli. They got sandwiches and went to the park to eat at one of the picnic tables. Aside from trampled places in the grass, there were no signs of the huge event that had taken place the day before.

“Wow, everything is cleaned up already,” Emily marveled.

“We've got a good crew with lots of practice. The barbecue has been held here for over thirty years.”

“Impressive.” Emily unwrapped her veggie sandwich, thinking about Trent's revelations. She wanted to act naturally, but it was uncomfortable knowing intimate details about her friend's childhood that Alaina didn't remember. He'd been right about the load of unpleasantness.

Most of all Emily felt bad for Trent. It must have been lonely growing up with all those secrets, keeping them hidden from the rest of his family. No wonder he was so solitary, putting up barriers to keep everyone away.

The problem was that understanding Trent's cynicism didn't make him any easier to be with.

“What happened with Mike yesterday?” she asked Alaina.

“The jackass accused me of setting him up...saying I promised to outbid everyone, just to make him look good. I was tempted to turn him into a soprano.”

Emily couldn't help thinking how often people blithely said something like
I could have killed him,
or
I wanted to strangle the guy.
Or
I was tempted to turn him into a soprano.
Most people didn't mean anything by it, but it was a curious reminder of the violence Trent had known as a child.

Alaina continued, “Now I'm wondering how I really feel about him.” Alaina gazed across the park, her eyes troubled.

Whoa. They'd both had significant revelations over the past twenty-four hours.

“Mike mentioned going by the Big Sky office this morning. Was it to continue the argument?” asked Emily.

“Actually, he apologized and asked me to dinner, but not because of the auction. Supposedly it's to get to know me better. I'm thinking about it.”

Emily grinned. “Tell him it has to be a whole lot of dates, because that's the only way to really know each other.”

“He may not want to do that.” Alaina tossed a crust from her sandwich to a blue jay perched on the end of the table. “Everything came easily for Mike before the accident. Maybe he thinks relationships should be the same.”

“You can't make a go of it if he isn't willing to do the work needed to be a couple.”

“Yeah, except now I'm wondering if I gambled everything on a childhood fantasy.”

“At least this way you'll know for sure.” Emily had never found anything she wanted badly enough that she'd gamble everything to get it, but she admired people willing to take those chances.

Alaina sighed. “Maybe. I'm going to tell him to meet me tonight—not as a date, just to talk. Tomorrow is out because there's always a big family meal at the ranch on Sundays.”

“Then why don't we eat at the Roundup Café on Monday so I can hear the grisly details?” Emily suggested.

“Sounds good. I'll come over after work.”

On her walk home Emily pondered how strangely things had turned out. She'd never expected to know so much about Trent—between his reputation and stony face she would have said it would take a ball and crane to get anything out of the guy. In a way, it had been a wrecking ball that had done it—an emotional one.

Everyone had childhood wounds. Heck, she had her own scars, though Trent's were far uglier than a few lacerations to the ego.

Emily glanced down at the trim pair of shorts she was wearing, another recent clothing purchase. For most of her life she'd hidden behind stiff suits, or clothes that were loose and comfortable, and neither were becoming on her. After all, why bother trying to look attractive when she couldn't possibly compete with women like Nicole?

Nonetheless, Trent had seemed eager to take her to bed. Really eager. And while the old movie line she'd once heard might be true—men don't need a reason for sex, just a place—she was sure that he'd genuinely wanted her in that moment, and no one else.

The insecure part of Emily's brain whispered that he'd been thrown off balance by having to confront his childhood memories. And to a certain extent it must have played a role—she just didn't know how much of one.

Tiredly, she told herself to stop borrowing trouble. She wasn't great at figuring men out, anyway. Dennis was the only other guy she'd slept with, and they hadn't gotten together very often. At the time she'd assumed the demands of his business travel were keeping them apart, but in all honesty, she hadn't regretted it. Of course, now that she knew how good it could be between the sheets, she was going to miss sex a whole lot more.

* * *

E
MILY
GREW
INCREASINGLY
nervous as she waited for Trent that evening.

Would he come?

That morning when she'd said they would talk later, she hadn't meant another tumble into bed. It wasn't that she'd mind, but she didn't want to come off as a desperate woman grabbing whatever she could. Besides, men being men, she would never assume that a night together constituted the start of a relationship.

After the crew had left for the day she'd hurried out to the Crazy Horse Ranch to visit Stella Luna, not wanting to disappoint her. Jackson McGregor had claimed the mare pricked her ears at the sound of every car engine and would watch eagerly to see if it was Emily arriving. He'd offered to buy Stella Luna, but the horse was so firmly fixed in Emily's heart, giving her up would be impossible.

Back at the house Emily was determined not to act as if she was expecting a social evening, so she made a chef salad and set out a single plate on the card table she'd brought in from the patio. The table didn't do justice to the new breakfast nook, but it would have to do until she'd moved her furniture from Los Angeles, or bought new items. She was just sitting down when a knock sounded on the front door.

Trent?

Generally he knocked rather than ringing. Still, she checked to be sure it was him before answering.

“I was just going to eat, but there's extra if you're hungry,” she offered. “Fair warning though, it's girlie food.”

“That would be nice,” he said, obviously distracted. She wanted to believe it wasn't because he regretted their night together. After all, he had his father's handgun to think about, which was considerably more important than having broken a rule about keeping one's work and personal life separate.

* * *

T
RENT
FOLLOWED
E
MILY
to the kitchen, noticing she hadn't dressed up or worn anything date-like or provocative. Not that she needed it, particularly now that he'd seen the beauty beneath her casual clothing. With any other woman he would have wondered why she hadn't put on something special, but the feminine motivations behind Emily's elfin face were still a mystery.

He hadn't expected to be fed, but he sat down with the plate of salad she'd made up for him. It was tasty and hearty, despite her calling it a girlie offering.

“I wanted to ask something about the break-in,” he said, unwilling to abruptly leap back into the stressful discussion from that morning. “Carl mentioned he had a lead to follow up, checking out someone from California?”

Emily shook her head. “He's just being careful, but my ex-fiancé can't be responsible. Dennis wasn't very upset about the breakup.”

Trent frowned. “He may have changed his mind.”

“Dennis is an ass, but he isn't the type to smash windows.”

“There's nobody else who might have a grudge against you, even for a stupid reason?”

“Nobody except Santa Claus—I stopped believing in him a long time before I figured out the tooth fairy was really our housekeeper.”

The temptation to laugh caught Trent by surprise. “Your housekeeper played tooth fairy?”

“Well, yeah. My parents didn't have time for that stuff, and they sure wouldn't have given me chocolate the way she did. I doubt they even knew what Zelda was doing.”

The matter-of-fact statement made Trent think about the way Aunt Sarah and Uncle Parker had always found time for their children, including the niece and nephew they'd adopted. They were wonderful parents, even if he hadn't properly appreciated them.

“Zelda sounds interesting,” he said.

“She was great. On top of everything else, she was the only one who didn't call me the smart George sister. I loved it.”

“Didn't you enjoy being called smart?”

Emily gave him an incredulous look. “It was a pitying comment, not a compliment. My sister is a gorgeous bombshell that everyone adores. She's been a top model since before she could walk and I just didn't measure up.”

Whoa. He'd gotten that one wrong. Here he'd thought Emily was patting herself on the back for being intelligent—instead, it was a negative label stuck on her as a kid.

“Then the people you grew up with were focused on appearance.”

“It isn't that unusual,” Emily said wryly. “After all, you don't hear anyone saying, ‘What a smart little girl you have in that stroller.' They tell you how pretty she is, or they don't say anything.”

“I suppose.”

“Basically, my parents' livelihood is based on how people look. They're clothing buyers for a high-end department store and most of their friends are in the fashion industry. That's why opening a boutique seemed a natural choice for me. I grew up learning what the beautiful people want.”

She pushed her plate away. “It's wonderful living in a place where nobody knows my family. It gets old when people can't believe we're from the same gene pool. I've even been asked if I was adopted.”

Trent was lousy at empathy, but he suspected Emily had revealed a lot about herself. “Not everyone thinks beauty has to come in a single shape.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but while I don't frighten children, I grew up with a stiff standard. Even my ex-fiancé finally admitted I was just plain bread and butter, so he wanted cake on the side.”

Emily shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Trent knew she was pretending. Then he did a double take. Her fiancé had actually built infidelity into his marriage plan? While Trent didn't want to get married himself, that sort of behavior was repulsive.

“I don't think you're plain anything,” he told her awkwardly, giving compliments being a talent he'd refused to cultivate.

“That's nice of you to say,” she said, clearly disbelieving him. “Would you like more salad?”

“No, thanks. It was delicious.”

“I'm glad you liked it. I also brought some to the neighbor across the street, though it probably isn't the meat-and-potatoes type of dish she usually eats.”

For most of his life, Trent had tried to send the message “stay away from me,” thinking little about the wounds suffered by others. Now he looked at Emily loading the dishwasher and wondered how self-centered he'd become. She wasn't a saint, but perhaps she genuinely cared about people.