Infamous: (A Bad Boy Romantic Suspense) (10 page)

Anton, meanwhile, was having a similar dilemma. He hadn’t been able to tell Taylor what he’d really thought when he saw her on the porch, outlined in light. Because she’d been more than glowing; she’d been radiant, beautiful, almost too much to bear. He couldn’t say those things because he didn’t think he had the right to. And because they might sound like bullshit coming from him.

With her holding on to him, it felt like everywhere she touched him was on fire. She felt good. Soft. Comforting. But there was real heat there, too. Passion. It reminded him of that night, how good she’d felt, right up until he’d messed everything up. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he’d thought.

Anton had been determined to show her a nice, normal time out. But he liked goading her too much. And he was just too attracted to her. It was a mess. The kind of situation he should definitely avoid—which made it that much more appealing.

Even though it was dark, Anton was taking the more scenic route to their destination, one he really hoped would be a pleasant surprise for her. It hadn’t been all that difficult to arrange, which had surprised him.

Anton wasn’t the sort of man who generally went in for big romantic gestures. He might spring for some good wine and a room that was cleaned regularly, but that was about it. Generally his liaisons didn’t require much more; they were in it for the fun as well.

So why was he trying to impress a woman he hadn’t seen in ten years, had never dated, and who pretty clearly hated him?

The less he thought about that, the better.

Behind him, Taylor was having a virtual avalanche of doubts. But in the end, it came down to two things. One: she was curious about Anton, even after all this time. Two: It had been a while since her last date. Not a great reason, but still.

She hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were going until she smelled something familiar. He couldn’t be taking her there, could he?

He sure could. She laughed.

In front of them stood Adler’s Castle, the site of the Deathless Rider’s first supposed “kill,” a local man who’d been doing terrible things to children…and the spot of the skirmish between the British Army and the local militia during the Revolutionary War. It wasn’t really a castle, exactly, although it did have a stone wall and a tower. It was really an oddly designed house built by Nelson Adler, a local recluse in the early 1900s. He’d kept building onto the house in different styles until his death. The effect was very odd, with one section in the shape of an octagon, the aforementioned tower that looked like it came from medieval Europe, the Tudor front, and so on. It was one of the most hideous buildings Taylor had ever seen and was locally known as “Adler’s Folly.” The family still owned it, though they all lived out West somewhere. It was now a tourist stop on the “Deathless Rider” tour, and there was a surprisingly upscale and highly rated restaurant within that featured what had to be said were some spectacular views of the Hudson River.

What Taylor had smelled was the scent of their signature dish, the “Deathless Chocolate Cake.” They made a lot of them and even shipped them abroad for a small fortune. One wing of the building had been converted into a bakery, and everyone in Sweethollow could tell when they were close, even with their eyes shut, because of the scent of chocolate.

Taylor was laughing because this had been where she and Anton used to meet and talk in high school, when they both needed to get out of the house. They would sit on the hill that overlooked the hideous house and the water, poking a bit of fun at the adults going there for “romantic” dates. They’d been snarky the way teenagers usually are about things they secretly kind of wished they could do. She’d forgotten all about those nighttime meetings until just then. The smell had brought it all back.

Back then, Anton was always getting in trouble of some kind. Often at school, and sometimes after, involving the police. It was always difficult to tell when he’d really done something wrong and when he was being blamed because he was a Quinn. He father had been universally disliked, and with good reason. But Anton had been different. Or so she’d thought.

She’d been in school with Anton for years before they’d actually “met.” She’d admired him from afar, too awkward and nervous to even say hi. He’d never noticed her, which she hadn’t expected. She wished other people had ignored her the same way, like Nick de Marco and his crew of “Saints.”

Taylor had been so unpopular it had kind of been like being in a gutter. What she wanted was for no one to notice her so she could read in peace. Unfortunately, Nick had taken some kind of special dislike to her and made it one of his missions to humiliate her at every opportunity. Every day had been like running a gauntlet of insults and intimidation. It had been truly miserable.

One day, when she’d just had enough and couldn’t take anymore of Nick or his gross friends pushing her and yelling at her about how ugly she was, she’d escaped outside to the deserted basketball court. It had been fall like it was now, and she’d thought she was alone. Until she’d smelled cigarette smoke.

Anton had been outside, smoking near the back of the detention room. Which she’d felt was somehow on purpose. He’d been sitting there, long legs casually crossed, boots tapping a little, his head leaning back and looking up at the sky, with smoke curling around. He looked relaxed and casual, as if nothing in the world could bother him.

Taylor had been about to sneak back in when he’d surprised her, turning his head and looking at her and speaking.

“They’re just a bunch of assholes, you know,” he said, sitting up a little and giving her a small grin. “You’re better than they are.” And just like that, she’d fallen from crush to love.

They sat and chatted for a while after that, about nothing in particular. They both didn’t like Mr. Chilton, the history teacher who spent most classes yelling about how great things used to be and who didn’t actually read any of the papers he’d assigned. They both liked the art teacher, even if she was a little flakey and seemed to mostly make pottery shaped like rather suggestive flowers.

After that, they’d run into each other sometimes, often when Taylor was walking the track instead of doing the regular gym activities—she’d been hit in the head one too many times with a ball for the gym teachers comfort—and Anton was cutting math and hanging out on the bleachers around the track. He had girls around sometimes, so Taylor didn’t bother him when he was with someone. It didn’t bother her. She loved him, but she didn’t need him to love her back. She wasn’t blind or delusional; she knew girls like her didn’t get guys like him.

When he wasn’t making out with someone, though, he’d often walk the track with her and they’d laugh about something a teacher had done, or complain about the way the school seemed to bend over backwards for the Saints just because they were decent at football. They both talked about wanting to leave Sweethollow.

After a while, they’d started meeting more regularly after school, sometimes at the diner. Anton liked to tell her about his girlfriends or complain about his grades. And she listened, just happy to be around him.

One afternoon he’d come by after not being in school for a few days, sporting a nasty, still-swollen black eye. He hadn’t said much for a while. And then he’d told her about his dad.

He’d spoken quietly, without any of his usual self-deprecations or usual teenage cynicism. He’d been hurt, vulnerable. And he’d chosen to share that with her.

A week later had been the “incident.” In the years since, she’d suspected that wasn’t an accident. Opening up like that had clearly been too much for him, and he’d lashed out at the person he’d been vulnerable in front of. Maybe that was just how he’d had to deal with it. Or he’d just been an asshole. She’d stopped trying to figure out teenage boys a long time ago.

All of this went by in a flash as she got off Anton’s bike. She stood looking up at Adler’s Castle.

“Wow. It’s even more hideous than I remember,” she said.

“Old Man Adler must’ve really been fucking nuts. Did you know he killed his wife? No one likes to talk about it, but he poisoned her and then walled up her body in one of the wings he was having built. She wasn’t found for a few months. Everyone thought she’d gone on a trip,” Anton said.

“I thought I heard something about that, back when I was kid. Grams and some of her friends used to talk about him sometimes, in hushed voices,” Taylor said.

“Sometimes I think this town attracts the worst kinds of people,” Anton said, standing next to her.

“It’s a small town, not a Stephen King novel,” Taylor said with a smile, not entirely sure she really believed that. As a teen, she’d often looked around and wondered why people seemed to get away with the things they did in Sweethollow. From school bullies to teachers taking bribes, there seemed to be a sort of silent permission in all things corrupt. And then there was how families like Anton’s were treated, as if his father and grandfather being awful was a guarantee that he would be.

In Taylor’s case, she’d mostly been disliked because she didn’t do things the way girls were “supposed” to. Like not making sure no one knew how smart she was or not caring about how she dressed. These were capital offenses in Sweethollow and she’d paid for them dearly. Especially with Nick de Marco. For whatever reason, he’d really taken it personally that she didn’t conform to his idea of what girls should be. And she didn’t find him charming, interesting, or anything more than creepy. That alarm went off in her head again…and then was quiet.

Plus, there had been Grams. Although her grandmother had been well liked among her circle of friends, the town had generally considered them to be very “eccentric” old ladies. She’d been part of the Deathless Riderites for years, just a tad obsessed with the legend since her own experience. Taylor had seen them all sitting up, drinking tea until the wee hours, discussing who the Rider might be and what it wanted, who it had really killed and why. They never seemed to tire of the subject.

Taylor supposed she’d grown up a bit unusually. Her parents had died when she was a baby; she didn’t remember them as anything other than photos in an album. And Grams had been everything she needed: loving, kind, and a good butt kicker when Taylor needed it. She hadn’t felt like she’d particularly missed out.

Of course, she wished she’d known her folks. By all accounts they were your average nice normal couple. No skeletons in their closet, no strange pasts. Just two people who’d met in college and decided to settle back in Sweethollow near Grams, her mother’s mother.

They’d died in a car accident, as people sometimes do. Nothing really dramatic about it, other than the obvious. She’d only been a few months old. A lot of people had wanted to turn her into some kind of tragic orphan, but Taylor had been lucky. She’d had Grams and overall felt pretty lucky. She’d even investigated the accident once upon a time, but it really was what it seemed. Unfortunate but nothing sinister. These things happened.

Of course, sometimes it had been tough. Grams was on Social Security and wasn’t exactly rolling in money. But she had a small inheritance from her late husband and there’d been a little life insurance from Taylor’s parents. The house was thankfully paid for, a little place on the edge of town with only one neighbor, a friend of Grams’ named Susan. Taylor supposed she’d have to go and check on it before her visit was over. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

They walked up the gravel path to the restaurant’s entrance, Taylor feeling a bit surreal. She wondered how Anton was feeling. Nervous? Confident? Blasé? He always kept his emotions so close, it was tough to read.

When they walked in, a waiter simply nodded and led the way into the dining room. Taylor didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until she let it out with a little gasp.

“Oh. Wow,” she said. Anton smiled next to her, looking relieved. He’d been nervous, then. Good.

The dining room was completely empty of other diners and the dance floor had been cleared. One table had been set up with candles around it. Glittering white lights dripped all over, like stars, and the whole room seemed to glow warmly.

A huge bouquet of red roses had been set up by one chair, with a single bluish-purple orchid in the middle. Taylor blinked. Orchids were her favorite flower. Had she ever told Anton that? She couldn’t remember. But it would have been quite a guess.

They were seated in silence, given no menus, and a basket full of steaming rolls was set next to them. Then some music began to play. To Taylor’s delight, it was Talking Heads, one of her favorite eighties bands.

When she looked out the window, she saw the Hudson spread out, dark and silvery, the moon dappling the water like scales. It was beautiful. No one had ever put together a date like this for her. She was trying to keep her expression neutral, but she was impressed in spite of herself. He’d clearly put in some effort.

“So? Impressed?” Anton asked, devilish grin on his face.

“Okay, Quinn, this is pretty lovely. I’m a big enough girl to admit that,” she said, grabbing a roll. It was sweet and fluffy.

“Good. I was wondering if you’d give me any credit, ever,” he said, sitting back.

“I’m not that petty,” she said.

“I didn’t think so. You were always so warm and kind when you were younger,” he said.

“Yes, well, that was a long time ago. I’ve learned to be more careful about who I’m nice to,” she said, eating another roll.