The first room that greeted me was a yellow-and-white kitchen. It was bright and cheery. There was a refrigerator to the left, along with a sink and just enough counter space for the dish drainer to sit. The stovetop-and-oven combo completed that side. In the center of the room was a round table with a ceramic tile top and two mismatched chairs. Then, on the right was what looked like a wood-burning stove, and the window on that side of the room had an air-conditioning unit in it.

  The screen door opened behind me, and I turned to see King walking inside with my suitcase and a bag of groceries.

  He seemed so out of place in the small kitchen as he grinned at me and raised his eyebrows. “Well? What do you think?”

  I let out a soft laugh. “It is beautiful.”

  He set down the groceries on the table, then nodded his head to the wooden stove. “That’s the only source of heat in the house. There is a shed just out the back door, full of dry wood for it. If you need help working it, I can give you a lesson.” Then, he pointed to the window unit. “You have two of these. One in here and one in the bedroom. They can keep it nice and cool in the summer. You’ll find opening the front door and the back door in the fall and spring will allow a breeze to blow straight through the place, keeping it a pleasant temp. That’s what the screen doors are there for.”

  I nodded, already loving the idea of fresh air in the house, but not sure if I would be able to have unlocked doors while inside.

  He tilted his head toward a quaint arched doorway that was directly across from the front door. “That takes you right into the living room.”

  Ready to see more, I walked into the next part of the house. The overstuffed green sofa was the only seating in the room and sat against the far-right wall, just underneath the windows. A coffee table and a twenty-inch television that was on top of what I think used to be the bottom half of a vanity table were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. The rug in the center of the room covered most of the hardwood.

  “Rug is new. Maeme had me bring it over this morning. The hardwood gets fucking cold in the winter. The house doesn’t sit on a concrete slab, so the cold air blowing under the house can freeze your feet when the temps drop.”

  I figured King was exaggerating, but I appreciated the fluffy blue rug nonetheless.

  Just like with the arched doorway, there was another one directly lined up with the front door. If you stood at the front door in the kitchen, you’d be able to look right through to the back door of the house. King motioned for me to continue on as he picked up my suitcase and started that way.

  It led right into the bedroom. A white iron-framed queen-size bed with a chenille coverlet—which had pink, blue, and yellow daisies on it—was in the middle of the room under two windows that overlooked miles of green grass, a building out in the far distance, and horses. There were several horses. I walked over to the windows to see the horse closest to me in a round pen with a man out there with him. They seemed to be circling each other. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. The dark brown horse was huge.

  “That’s the ranch. Shephard Ranch, to be exact. Thatcher’s family owns it. You’ll see them out there, working with the horses, pretty regularly,” King informed me.

  “The horse is gorgeous.”

  King chuckled. “Thoroughbreds are beautiful creatures.”

  I studied the rest of the room. In the far-right corner sat a claw-foot tub with a showerhead and a curtain that wrapped all the way around it. A pedestal sink and white wicker shelves for bathroom supplies were to its left. Thankfully, there was a closed-off corner with an actual door that held the toilet. The idea of using the bathroom in my bedroom, even if no one else lived with me, would have been odd. Another window air-conditioning unit was in the bottom half of the window that looked into the backyard.

  The other side of the room had a white dresser with three drawers.

  King walked over and opened a small closet on the opposite side of it.

  “This won’t fit much, but you have the extra rack space there.” He nodded toward the clothing rack that stood beside it. On each side of the bed were round tables. One held a lamp, and the other was just the right size for a book to sit and maybe a glass of water at night.

  The back door to the house was on the other side of the clothing rack. King unbolted the lock and swung it open.

  “Wood is right there,” he said, then stepped back for me to look out.

  There was a concrete stoop with three steps, and to the right sat the small shed that held the wood. Behind the house were more lines of pecan trees, then a wooden fence stopped them about one hundred yards away. More of the Shephard Ranch, I assumed.

  “You think you can be happy here?” King asked me.

  I looked out over the property. It was stunning. I would be tucked away in my own little haven.

  “I love everything about it,” I said, feeling so many emotions that it was almost overwhelming.

  “Good. I’ll go get the rest of your groceries,” King replied behind me.

  I listened as he walked back through the house and took another deep breath of the fresh air before stepping back inside and closing the door. I looked at the bolt, and although I felt like I was safe out here, I wouldn’t be leaving the doors open for the breeze. I locked the door back up firmly, then headed back to the kitchen.

  King brought in two more bags and was heading back to his truck. He couldn’t be getting more. I’d given Maeme a very short list of necessities. They would have fit in one bag. The eighty dollars I had left with the list wouldn’t have covered three bags full of groceries.

  Opening the first bag, I looked inside to see the blueberries that I had put on my list, along with apples, oranges, strawberries, raspberries, and grapes, which had not been on my list. All this fruit alone would have cost almost eighty dollars. Frowning, I turned to the next bag to find my egg whites and wheat bread I had put on the list, along with a dozen eggs that I hadn’t.

  King walked back inside with two more full paper grocery bags. I stared at them, then at him as he set them down with the others.

  “I didn’t order all this. I only gave Maeme eighty dollars. This is all way more than that.”

  King shrugged. “The list was too short. You need more than that. I looked at what you wanted and used it as an idea of what you liked. Then added a few things you should have put on there. Like the Oreos and real milk.”

  “What? How much did all this cost? And I ordered the almond milk. What if I have a dairy allergy?” Which I didn’t, but that wasn’t the point.

  “You ate the cornbread with butter on it last night. Both of those had dairy in them,” he replied with a smirk. “And I saw you eating the cheese grits at breakfast. Dairy. Not to mention, you had creamer in your coffee. The only creamer Maeme has is dairy. You can’t properly eat Oreos without real milk. How the fuck do you milk an almond anyway? It just sounds nasty.”

  I sighed. “Okay, fine. I can have dairy, but this…this is a lot of food. How much did it cost?” I was trying to be frugal. This was not being frugal.

  “Doesn’t matter. Take it up with Maeme if you have a problem with it. She paid for it, and good luck getting her to let you give her any more money.”

  I peeked into the next bag, and there were the Oreos he’d spoken of, along with a multitude of other items I hadn’t asked for. “This is too much food for one person, King.”

  He frowned. “No, it’s not. You don’t have to eat it all today. Pace yourself.”

  I would not get upset about this. It was done, and I needed to be thankful. Let it go. If this was what Maeme wanted, then there wasn’t much I could do to stop her. She had made it clear that when she wanted something, she got it. And I couldn’t even be upset about that. This house was more than I would have ever dreamed up in a million years.

  “One more thing,” King said and pulled out a phone from his pocket, then held it out to me. “You need a phone. My number is in there, and so is Maeme’s. It’s untraceable, and before you argue with me, this is something Maeme ordered. You might as well take it.”

  I reached out and took the phone from him. “Thank you, really. I know I’ve been difficult, but I have reasons. I just didn’t want to bring anyone else into my mess. But I appreciate it.”

  He smiled then. That distracting one he had. The one in the photos on the wall at Maeme’s. “You’re welcome, sweets. If you need anything, call.”

  I nodded, and then he turned and headed out the door. Leaving me here in my new sanctuary. It all seemed too good to be true. I’d never known people this kindhearted existed in the world. I just had to be sure I didn’t take advantage of it. I would do everything I could to make it up to Maeme and King.

  But first, I was going to settle into my temporary home.

  • ten •

  “They see your cocky ass coming a mile away.”

  King

  Sitting across from the man who had been the cause of my name, I took a drink of the whiskey in my glass.

  Barrett Kingston, Storm’s father, had made a bet with my father thirty-four years ago that my dad lost. Technically, my dad was supposed to name me Kingston because he’d lost to Barrett, but my mother had been furious, seeing as she had planned on naming me Bash. In the end, she had settled for King. It was one of those stories I’d heard a million times, and I couldn’t say I was mad about it. I liked my name. What kind of fucking name was Bash anyway?

  “Where is Stellan?” my father asked as he stepped into Stellan Shephard’s office.

  He seemed annoyed that we had all been called here, and Stellan not being here yet was going to be an issue.

  “Pour yourself a drink and stop scowling, Ronan,” Barrett said to him. “Stellan is on his way. He went in the lead car that escorted Blaise back to the airstrip. Before you ask about their whereabouts, Thatcher and Storm are in the follow car, and Monte is in the library, downloading files that Wilder sent him.”

  Dad sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, then made his way to the bar, only giving me a brief nod as he passed. I didn’t bother to respond. I just took another drink and cut my eyes over to Wells, who was arguing with his father, Roland, about the fact that his younger brother, Teller, wasn’t more involved yet in the family business. Teller was only nineteen, and, sure, we’d had to step up at that age, but why make Teller? He could actually enjoy college without the stress of the life he’d been born into just yet. Wells saw it differently though. He’d not gotten to finish his four years at the University of Alabama as QB one because of his responsibilities to the family. He was still fucking bitter about it too.

  “Maeme tells me that the wife was abused regularly,” Dad said, taking the seat to my left.

  I turned my attention to him. “Yeah, the X-ray is fucking brutal.”

  Dad’s scowl deepened. “Should have let Thatcher kill the bastard.”

  “He will, but first, we need to get the money,” Barrett pointed out.

  “We got all his money and his wife. A week is more time than he should have been given,” Dad replied.

  “We left him bleeding out, Dad. He can’t do much at the moment. He’s in the hospital,” I reminded him.

  Dad took a drink, then put a cigar in his mouth to light it. “Pansy-ass,” Dad said, his teeth clenched around the cigar.

  “We also need more information from him,” Barrett added. “We need names, other properties he sold and profited from that he didn’t own.”

  “We can find that out while he’s strung up in the cellar,” Dad said.

  Barrett shrugged like that was a given. Which it was. I myself was looking forward to getting my own revenge on Churchill Millroe. I wasn’t going to tell them that though. They’d get the wrong idea and assume I was planning on fucking Carmella Millroe—or Rumor, as she wanted to be called. It was her name before she changed it after all. But Beauregard wasn’t. She’d thrown that name out there, and I was curious as to where she’d gotten it from. I couldn’t exactly ask her that though.

  “Maeme has her settled in the shotgun house then?” Roland asked, walking over to us and leaving Wells looking annoyed.

  I nodded. “Yeah. She seems less like a flight risk now. She likes the place. Doesn’t mean she won’t try and run as soon as she’s healed.”

  “She’s strung tight,” Wells said. “Even with Casanova over there.”

  I smirked. “I got her here, didn’t I?”

  Wells shrugged. “Yeah, but Maeme made her stay. You had nothing to do with that. Losing your touch with old age. I might have to step up and take your place as Prince Charming.”

  Barrett chuckled. “You might have the looks, kid, but you don’t have the charm. They see your cocky ass coming a mile away. King here has the talent to hide it.”

  The door opened, and Storm came inside, followed by Thatcher. They were laughing about something—well, Storm was, and Thatcher had a small tug on his lips, which was as close to amused as he got. Storm’s gaze met mine, and he grinned bigger.

  “There’s Mr. Wonderful,” he said.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Glad you finally realized it,” I replied.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Not me. I know you’re an asshole, but it seems our hurt little sparrow is blinded by that pretty-boy face of yours.”

  I straightened in my seat and studied him. “What are you talking about?”

  He glanced over at Thatcher, who was headed to the bar, not at all interested in the conversation. He sank down on the seat to my right and sighed. “Well, Maeme sent me back to the cottage with an apple pie she had made for Rumor—that’s what we are supposed to call her, right?”

  I nodded and narrowed my eyes, wanting him to finish whatever he was going to say.

  “She wouldn’t open the door for me. Talked to me through the damn door. Asked where you were in fact. Told me to leave or she would call you. If we hadn’t been called here, I might have sat down on that rocking chair and let her call you. That would have been a fun little turn of events.”

  “Don’t fuck around with her. She’s been abused, and she’s scared shitless.”

  I glared at him. He knew this. We all did. Why didn’t he take it more seriously? She needed to be handled delicately.

  “And you don’t fuck around with her either—even if she wants you to,” he replied, wagging his eyebrows at me.

  “I don’t plan on it. She might be married to a goddamn narcissistic bastard, but she’s still married. I don’t do drama and baggage.”

  “She’ll be a widow in about a week,” Thatcher said, leaning back against the edge of the desk and crossing his ankles.

  I gave him a warning look. He would never take the time to even attempt to gain her trust. But I didn’t like the insinuation. That got a deep chuckle out of him.

  “We have real shit to discuss. We aren’t here to talk about pussy,” Roland said just as the door opened, and Wilder’s father and Roland’s older brother, Monte, walked inside.

  Monte held up some papers in his hands. “Got what we needed. His accounts have been drained, and all his money is sitting in one of our accounts in Switzerland. He’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Guess we will be torturing and killing sooner rather than later,” Thatcher drawled, looking entirely too pleased.

  “Bloodthirsty, brother? You just shot the man two days ago,” I pointed out, not that I wasn’t ready to hear Churchill beg for his life and wail in agony.

  Thatcher cut his gaze to mine. “Don’t act like you aren’t ready for her to be a widow.”

  I stood up. “I want her free of that piece of shit, and I want him to pay. But that’s it.”

  He smirked. “Sure. That’s all you want.”

  I wasn’t going to argue. He was trying to bait me. I knew him too well. Unlike the younger guys, who always fell for his shit and let him get them worked up, I was unphased. Instead, I just chuckled and shook my head before going to fill up my glass. Our meeting had just been extended.

  “Boss made it clear—no one fucks her,” Monte said, his eyes leveled on me.

  Fine. I hadn’t planned on it.

  • eleven •

  “I didn’t like men. I wanted to stay clear of them.”

  Rumor

  I had spent the last four days tucked away in the little cottage, and I’d found more than just my body healing. The peaceful beauty was good for my soul. I knew this was temporary, but I clung to the serenity, soaking it in and hoping it was enough before I had to leave it behind.

  Maeme had stopped by every day with something she’d made. I had more food than I would ever eat, but I found myself being able to enjoy it without fear of gaining a pound or two.

  Yesterday, I had even braved going outside for a walk. There were two horses out for me to watch from afar. The breeze was cool, but the warm sunshine made it the perfect weather. The trees were already green, and the grass was lush and felt like velvet under my bare feet. It’d felt as if I were in a utopia, created in my own imagination.

  The first two nights, I had feared I would wake up and this all would have been a dream.

  This morning, when I had opened my eyes to hear the birds chirping and the sunshine pouring through the windows, I had smiled so big that my lip stung. The swelling in it was gone, but where it had broken open was still on the mend. Walking into the cheery yellow kitchen, barefoot, wearing whatever I wanted, and making my own cup of coffee with no fear—it’d made me want to weep with joy. If only I could stay in this house like this forever. It would be a perfect life.

  I couldn’t let myself think like that. It was hard not to, but I knew this would come to an end. Staying would never be an option. If I pretended like it was, it would be harder in the end.

  Taking my cup of coffee, I stepped out onto the front porch with a shawl over my shoulders I had found at the top of the bedroom closet. Sitting out here with the fresh morning air was becoming my favorite thing to do. Especially after waking up.