“Lyla.”
“Ah!” I jumped, practically leaping out of my chair as Crystal’s hand touched my shoulder. “Oh my God. You scared me.”
“I’m so sorry. I thought you heard me come in the back door.”
“It’s fine.” I waved it off, then took a breath, willing my heart to climb out of my throat.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Just sitting in the dark?”
“Oh, I was just, um . . . trying to figure out how I could paint spiderwebs and then turn them into snowflakes after Thanksgiving,” I lied.
“Good idea. I’d offer to help, but I’m hopeless with art projects.” She gave me an exaggerated frown.
Her lipstick was orange today, the color of carrots. Crystal had a different color lipstick for each day of the month, ranging from blue to red to green.
Her quirky nature was part of why I’d hired her. She didn’t care that some of the grumpy old men in town gave her strange looks when she wore purple lipstick. She was confident in her style and herself.
I usually felt the same. Just, not lately. Not since the river.
Was it the bruises? Would I feel like me again once they were completely gone?
My gaze shifted to the windows again. “What if there were no webs this year? What if we skipped the snowflakes?”
“What do you mean?” Crystal asked. “Like do something else? Spiders or whatever?”
Or whatever.
“I’ll come up with something,” I said, giving her a forced smile. Then I followed her to the counter and helped prep for the day.
I pretended that everything was normal. I smiled like I meant it.
Not ten minutes after Crystal had unlocked the front door at six, the bell jingled and I looked up from where I’d been making that latte for myself.
Vance crossed the shop, stopping at the counter. “Hi.”
“Good morning.” I’d assumed he’d be long gone for the mountains by now, but with Crystal here, I didn’t ask.
His beanie covered his unruly hair. His coat molded to those broad shoulders. Those bright, clear eyes raked over my body, head to toe. “Coffee.”
“They didn’t have any at the hotel?”
“Yours is better.”
Yes, it was. “To go?”
He nodded. “Please.”
Please. Last night, Vance had made me say please each time I’d wanted to come. He’d made me beg, and it had made the release so much sweeter. My cheeks flushed as I filled his paper cup.
The timer I’d brought out from the kitchen dinged, signaling the bread was done.
“I’ll get it,” Crystal said, leaving us alone.
“You like that, don’t you?” Vance’s voice was a deep murmur. “Me, saying please.”
“Yes. But I like to be the one to say please too,” I whispered.
“Noted.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ll make you say it later.”
“You’re on, Sutter.” I handed over his coffee, shaking my head when he tried to pay. “It’s on me.”
Vance reached for his wallet, taking out a five-dollar bill. He winked as he set it on the counter. “See ya, Blue.”
He walked away, coffee in hand. He was escaping to the mountains.
An odd feeling came over me as he headed for the door. It felt a lot like . . . envy.
For the first time in my life, the last place I wanted to be was within these walls. I didn’t want to bake and serve and smile.
“Vance?” I called, stopping him.
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“Can I go with you today?” What was I even asking? I needed to work. Didn’t I?
“Sure,” he agreed without hesitation.
My heart galloped. Spontaneity was not, well . . . me. But the idea of ditching work felt so right. “I need to take my car home. Meet me in the alley in five minutes?”
“’Kay.”
I rushed away from the counter so fast I nearly tripped on my own feet. Then I hustled to the kitchen, where Crystal was putting my bread loaves on cooling racks. “Hey, would you care if I took off for today?”
She blinked, like that question had shocked her into silence. “You’re not supposed to work Mondays.”
“Huh?”
“When you hired me, you said you were going to take Mondays off.”
“Oh.” Yet I never let her work alone.
It had nothing to do with her. And everything to do with me.
“Well, if you’re okay with it, I’ll take off today.”
“Of course.” She smiled, standing taller. Her brown eyes sparkled. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can,” I told her, then hurried to my office to collect my coat and yesterday’s clothes.
With them shoved into my purse so Crystal wouldn’t notice, I headed for my car. Like it had been every morning, the windows were coated in frost. I tossed my things inside and quickly scraped the glass, finishing just as Vance pulled his truck into the alley.
I climbed in the car and led the way to my house.
There weren’t a lot of brand-new homes in Quincy, but along with buying and renovating the building on Main for Eden Coffee, I’d used my inheritance to build my dream house about two miles from town.
It was farmhouse style, with pretty white siding and a quaint porch. The black shutters matched the shade of the tin roof. There were three bedrooms, a spacious kitchen and an office. The other houses in the neighborhood were home to growing families. That was what I’d envisioned for this house. A family.
As I eased into the driveway and parked in the garage, taking in my charming home, a heaviness settled in my chest.
What if there was no family? What if it was only me?
The slam of Vance’s truck door snapped me out of that thought, and I shut off my car and got out, joining him in the driveway so we could go in through the front door.
“Nice place.” He took it all in, top to bottom, just like he usually did with me.
That was his way, wasn’t it? He scanned. Assessed.
“I just want to change into something warmer,” I said.
“Take your time.” He followed me inside, closing the door behind us while I rushed down the hall for my bedroom.
It only took minutes to pull on a thick sweatshirt and hiking boots. Then I grabbed a coat, hat and gloves, carrying them out to the living room, where I found Vance leaning in to study a framed picture hanging on the wall.
“This is your family?” he asked, not tearing his eyes from the photo.
“It is. Those are my parents and my brothers and sisters.” I came to stand by his side, taking in the dated photo. Strange how I passed this picture every day but hadn’t really looked at it in a while.
“That was Knox’s senior year in high school,” I said. “Mom was saying the other day how we needed to get a new photo taken now that our family has grown so much.”
Husbands. Wives. Children.
Mateo and I would be paired together, no doubt, as the only two single people in our family.
“Do you have a big family?”
Vance straightened, turning from the picture. Not a word escaped his lips.
Apparently his family, along with every other personal topic, was off-limits.
“Right,” I muttered. “Too personal. You can fuck me senseless every night, but that’s where it ends.”
“Lyla—”
“It’s fine.” I flicked my wrist. It wasn’t fine. Nothing right now was fine. If I was being honest with myself, that outburst had more to do with me than it did Vance.
I pulled off the hat I’d just put on, feeling too hot. The sweatshirt was suddenly suffocating. “Actually, I think I’m going to just stay home today. You go without me.”
Vance’s face was unreadable. Maybe he was relieved. Maybe he was sorry. Maybe he was annoyed. Fuck if I knew.
“Rain check.” He gave me a single nod, then walked down the entryway and out the door.
I didn’t stop him. Instead I reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and ripped it from my torso, throwing it on the floor. “Gah!”
What was wrong with me? I didn’t want to be at work. I didn’t want to be at home—I didn’t want to be anywhere. I’d been sleeping with Vance and knew nothing about him.
Everything was wrong.
And I didn’t know how to make it right.
I unglued my feet, about to go to the kitchen. Maybe my favorite room in the house would make me feel more like myself. But then my own reflection caught my eye in the decorative mirror I’d hung on one of the living room walls.
It stopped me cold.
My throat was a wash of greenish yellow. But there were a few circles still black and blue. I stepped closer to the mirror, taking in those circles.
Fingertips. They were from Cormac’s fingertips.
The motherfucker.
“Cormac.”
It was the first time I’d said his name out loud.
“Cormac.” My voice was stronger. Firmer. Angrier.
I knew his name. I knew his crimes. I knew because of Vance. Because I’d believed every word he’d given me about my attacker.
Meanwhile, he didn’t speak of his family. His friends. His job. His life. All he’d ever really shared was about Cormac.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
Who was Vance? What if I was wrong? He’d told me he was a cop, but he’d never shown me a badge. I’d never asked to see one.