Seek and Cherish: A small-town rockstar rom-com (Sanctuary Book 5)

CHAPTER ONE

Honey

I’m not a con artist anymore, and I’m not going to con anyone today. I’m just going to ask for a favor. If I have to use some of my skills of persuasion, that’s not the same thing as conning someone.

My gut twists, calling me out as a liar. Anything that uses my old skills feels wrong these days. Even if I’m doing it for the best of reasons.

The small cottage in front of me, surrounded by forest on all sides, with a narrow gravel drive and one lone SUV parked in front, is silent and still. Even the two ceramic gnomes, both with red hats, blue shirts, and smiling sweetly, on the front stoop seem to hold their non-existent breath.

It looks exactly like the sort of place a person who likes to dress as Bigfoot would choose. There’s a gingerbread, fairy tale feel to it, with ivy growing up the side and a stone exterior. It could have been built in the nineteen thirties or two weeks ago.

It’s got a timelessness about it that makes it hard to place.

The blinds are up, giving me a clear view inside, but there’s no sign of movement. If Bigfoot is home, they’re probably watching TV or doom scrolling on their phone.

Maybe they’re bored and will want to help me out of the goodness of their heart. Maybe I won’t even have to flatter and persuade them.

I have no idea what to think of someone who enjoys dressing up like Bigfoot and scaring hikers. Is kindness even possible? Or could I be just the kind of person a Bigfoot impersonator would love to torment?

A memory of groping hands and angry hissed words slashes through my calm, but I stuff it back down where it belongs. That happened once, because I let down my guard and forgot how dangerous humans can be. I forget how angry a person can get when they realize they’ve been played. It only lasted a moment. My father rescued me and I was fine. But I’ll never forget the fury in that man’s eyes.

I’m smarter now. No one will ever corner me again.

And I’m not conning Bigfoot. I’m not.

I’m just asking for a favor, and there’s no reason Bigfoot should get mad about that. No is a complete answer.

Not that I can accept no, but I’m not conning the fluffy beast. I’m not.

Behind me, a branch snaps and leaves crunch. I press my lips together tight, to keep from screaming in fear, and take three big steps closer to the cottage.

I don’t know who’s been dressing up as Bigfoot, but I know they’re friends with my sister Clover and her boyfriend Asher, so they have to be safer than whatever is in the forest.

Right?

My heart pounds with fear, and I swallow hard. I’m not a con artist anymore, but maybe Bigfoot will be more willing to help if I lean into my fear. Everyone loves a sweet, submissive woman who needs the help of someone big and strong, right?

I hunch my shoulders forward and drag my long hair halfway across my face. I’ve been thinking of cutting it all off, because it’s getting too long and is always in my way, but I haven’t had the time for an appointment.

My fingers bump over a bit of clay tangled in the long strands, but I don’t pull it out. It’s too dry and will take a clump of my hair with it. I’ll have to wet it and work it out gently when I’m back in my ceramics studio.

I watch the house and listen for any sounds from inside.

I’ve always been a good listener, because it’s the best way to read a person and to understand their wants and needs. It’s part of what made me such a good con artist.

People think I’m naturally intuitive, practically a mind reader, but I just love knowing people and figuring out how to be there for them, especially my four sisters.

Some people would call what I do eavesdropping, but I call it being aware of my surroundings. I like to know what everyone in my life is up to. I always have.

When I noticed Clover and Asher acting strange whenever anyone mentioned Bigfoot, my suspicions were piqued .

Ever since Clover told us she’d found a home for our little goat, Barley Hopper, I’d been dying to know where. I’m nosy that way.

It might seem over the top to people who have a vibrant social life or a lack of free time, but I started following Clover and Asher whenever they left the house. It wasn’t easy with my work schedule, but nothing worth doing ever is.

Last week, they drove to this house and hung out on the front porch for so long, I almost got bored and drove away. My patience paid off when Bigfoot ambled into the front yard and hugged my sister and her boyfriend.

Bingo.

Not only had I solved a mystery that had been bothering me like an uncomfortable itch, I had an idea of how I could solve another mystery that has been eating at me even more. A mystery I’m hoping might be just what I need to bring me and my sisters closer together.

In case someone’s watching through a window, I make my way to the front door slowly, head lowered, any sign of confidence or self-love in check.

On the stoop, standing between the colorful gnomes, I ring the doorbell and wait. No answer. Could they be in the woods playing Bigfoot? Sightings of Bigfoot during the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, are rare, but I’ve learned people are never as predictable as I’d like them to be.

I ring the doorbell again, then knock, but there’s still no answer. With a huff, I shove my hair behind my ear and straighten my shoulders, hope draining out of me.

I’ve waited too long already to put this plan into motion. Plus, I have to work the day shift for the next three days, and there’s no way I’m approaching Bigfoot at night. Waiting around here for Bigfoot to return is my only option.

I wander to the back of the house and stop at the sight before me. I’m recalculating my assumptions about the Bigfoot player as I take in the absolutely fabulous goat playground they’ve built for Barley Hopper. The little guy is inside what looks like an over-sized kennel with a roof. It’s a replica of the cottage and it’s connected, by small tunnels, to three identical kennels.

The playground includes bridges and barrels, goat-sized swings, and even a two story structure with goat-friendly stairs and space for far more than little Barley Hopper.

Although Barley has grown quite a bit since the last time I saw him and is now a full-sized adult goat for his breed, he’s not much larger than a small dog. We suspected when we got him at our sanctuary farm that he was a dwarf goat and that appears to be the case.

His fur is white with brown spots, and he’s got two nubby little horns.

He looks up as though he can hear me thinking about him and lets out a plaintive maa-aa.

“Hey there, Barley.” Seeing the little guy puts me at ease and makes me smile.

I much prefer animals to people. Animals are so much easier to read and to keep happy.

Quickly, I let myself into the enclosure and lock the gate behind me.

Barley leaps to his hooves and hurries through the back of his little house. Moments later, just as I’m reaching the kennel, Barley pops out around the front of it.

I kneel, happiness rushing up through me at the sight of this adorable little goat, so glad to see me, his love unconditional.

“Hey, there, Barley.” I open my arms and he trots right into them, bumping his head against my chin. I laugh and hug him, scratching his coarse fur.

“I’ve missed you, buddy.” I let him go and lean back. “Want to show me around your playground?”

“Step away from the goat,” a gruff voice says behind me.

***

I stand slowly and slide a hand into the pocket of my shorts. As I turn to face the owner of the voice, I pull out my pepper spray and raise it into a defensive position.

Unfortunately, I’m holding up a granola bar. Wrong pocket.

Before I can do anything about that, I’m distracted by the completely naked man standing inside the enclosure with me. And I’m not going to lie. As interesting as his purple hair is, my eyes go straight to the good stuff.

He’s covering it with one long-fingered hand, the visible veins that run up his forearm making my mouth go dry. I love cock, but good hands are almost as sexy.

I let my gaze rise slowly and take in a lean torso with delineated abs, a muscular chest and round shoulders. He’s got a good strong jawline and a great mouth with full lips that are parted as he stares at me wide-eyed.

“It’s you,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice. He’s staring at me with the most intense expression and my stomach swoops like I’m on the downhill side of a roller coaster.

I hold up one finger. Somewhere, in the reasonable part of my brain, a voice is reminding me this man is Bigfoot, and he’s blocking the only exit. Unfortunately for the reasonable part of me, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen anything this pretty.

“Give me a second.” I linger over his hand again as I peruse his body, taking my time to check out his strong thighs and good calves and very nice bare feet, before I meet his eyes again. “Do you know me?”

His eyes widen. “Why are you pointing a protein bar at me?”

I sigh and stuff it back in my pocket, then pull the pepper spray out of my other pocket, prop my finger over the trigger and point it at him. “Does this make more sense?” I give him a sweet, innocent smile.

“Not when you’re the one who broke into my backyard.” He doesn’t sound sure. In fact, he seems dazed. I can use that.

“And you’re a strange naked man keeping me trapped in here.” My heart is a beating faster and sweat rises on my skin. Am I afraid? This doesn’t feel like fear, but I… My lower belly warms and my knees go weak. It’s been so long since I felt like this that it takes me several long seconds to realize what’s going on.

I’ve never felt this intense level of attraction so fast. And it’s not just his nudity. I”m drawn to this man, like I know him on some subconscious level.

That has to be the hormones talking.

Love at first sight is not a thing.

He looks back at the gate, twisting far enough for me to make out a nicely rounded ass.

He faces me and steps to the side until there’s room for me to get past him, but only if he lets me. “I’m naked because Barley’s alarm woke me up, and I didn’t have time to get dressed.”

“You go to bed at three in the afternoon?”

He shakes his head and runs his free hand through his hair. “I was napping. I haven’t been sleeping great at night lately and…” He trails off. “Why are you in my backyard?”

“You nap naked?” It seems way too convenient. There’s a strange woman in his yard and oops, he just happens to be naked? He could absolutely be a pervert, or worse.

He shakes his head, scowl deepening. “I can’t sleep with clothes on. It’s a thing. And I live in the middle of nowhere, so I can do whatever I want because normally no one bothers me.” He huffs in frustration that’s oddly adorable. “Are you here to kidnap Barley?”

“How do you know me?” I ask again, trying to keep him focused on the information I need.

“I don’t. I’ve just seen you around the…” He stops, dropping his head forward and sighing heavily. He looks up at me, a gentle pleading in his gaze. “Forget I said that. I know your sister, Clover. She mentioned you.”

“You’ve been watching me.” And you’re a liar.

“No,” he says quickly. “I swear. I’ve just seen you when I’ve been out for a… walk. I’ve seen you around the farm.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s definitely a creepy stalker. Pervert remains to be determined. Mentally, I weigh the odds of risk if I go through with my plan. Unfortunately, I have no great alternative options. “I’m not here to kidnap Barley. I’m here to ask you for a favor.”

He narrows his eyes, studying me, and the impact of his intense gaze, the way he seems to see right through me, makes me take a step back, a shiver climbing up my spine.

I recover quickly and give him a smile, eyes lowered like I’m shy. I’m doing my best to telegraph an ‘I’m sweet and trustworthy’ vibe, but his eyes narrow and his mouth sets in a hard, angry line.

“I’d rather have this conversation with clothes on.”

“I can hang out with Barley while you get dressed.”

He hesitates just long enough to make it clear he doesn’t trust me. But he nods, expression tight, and turns to leave.

He makes no attempt to hide his bare ass, so I make no attempt not to stare appreciatively. It’s a lovely backside, high and firm, leading up to a strong back. A zing of something deeper than lust, something that feels like longing, hits me right in the chest.

I have the worst taste in men.

He looks back over his shoulder and smirks, like he heard my thoughts. “I’ll be right back.”

My cheeks heat, damn it. What the hell is wrong with me? I cannot be attracted to this man. I will not allow it.

Too late, I realize I should have leaned into the blush, should have kept up the sweet, innocent act in my attempt to win him over, but he’s already walking away, the gate swinging shut behind him, the clasp catching and locking on the door.

My heart races and my hand holding the pepper spray shakes. I’m not conning this man, I’m just asking for a favor, but this whole plan is suddenly scarier than the riskiest con I ever ran with my father.

Never before have I been attracted to a mark. Not that Bigfoot is a mark, but I need something from him and getting attached to him, even physically, is a bad, bad idea.

With Barley at my feet, I explore the yard. His playground isn’t just huge, it’s well built, with such attention to detail that all the wooden corners are rounded and nails heads are covered with wood putty. Inside the kennels, there’s lots of fluffy, clean hay and the feed and water bowls are spotless.

On my way back across the play yard, a blinking red light on the side of the house catches my attention and I walk over to the small plastic box that looks very much like a motion sensor alarm. I’ve seen sensors like this before, but this one probably cost more than I make at the diner in two months.

“It alerts me to anything larger than a squirrel that gets close to the gate,” the man says.

I’m not ready for him, but I plaster on a blank, cheerful expression. He’s changed into sweats and a t-shirt, his feet still bare, his hair mussed. Judging by the visible outline in his sweatpants, he didn’t put on underwear.

“Eyes up here,” he says, tone sharp.

Caught again, I don’t fight the heat on my cheeks. “I’m sorry.” I peek up at him from under my lashes.

He snorts. “You expect me to buy that act now?”

I whip my head up, unable to contain my teeth-gritted snarl. Not like a wild animal. More like an annoyed house cat. A tiny snarl that I should have suppressed.

I hate getting called out.

Clearly, I’ve lost my persuasive touch.

“That’s much more believable.” He crosses his arms over his chest and rocks back on his heels, all smug superiority. “I’ve seen the way you handle a fully grown cow who’s picking a fight with a pig. You’re no shrinking violet.”

Actually, the pig was picking the fight with the cow and I was just trying to get the cow out of the line of fire, but he doesn’t need to know that. I doubt he cares. What matters is that I’m going to have to change tactics.

A more emotionally and mentally healthy person might just ask for the favor outright, but that’s not how the world works. At least not for me.

Asking for help makes me vulnerable, letting him think it was his idea to help me puts me back in control.

I swallow and look away, fighting the urge to blink until my eyes sting and grow damp. When I look back at him, I know they’re glistening. “This was a stupid idea.”

I brush past him and march through the gate and around to the front of the house. I’m almost to my car and about to accept defeat when he says my name.

“Honey, wait.”

I spin and swipe at my eyes like I’ve been crying, even though they’re totally dry. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Sorry to interrupt your nap.”

The bastard has Barley curled up in his arms, absentmindedly petting his head. They both look damn adorable. “I’m sorry for teasing you, but you don’t need to play any games with me. Clover is my friend and I’m happy to help her sister.”

I barely manage not to roll my eyes. No one ever does anything for free. No one.

If he’s going to help me, he has to think he’s getting something out of it, even if it’s just feeling like he’s a hero. “If we do this, you can’t tell Clover or any of my sisters.”

His brow crinkles over the prettiest cerulean eyes I’ve ever seen. “Is it a surprise for them?”

I nod, but I don’t bother with a smile. “Yep. Think you can keep a secret?”

“What do you need from me?”

Straight to the point, I can work with that. “I found a treasure map at our house. My grandfather buried something in these woods and my father spent ten years trying to find it. It would mean so much to my sisters if I found this piece of our history, but I don’t know my way around these woods and you’ve been spotted in some of the areas I think are most likely to have the treasure.”

“Spotted?” He groans and drops his head back. “Clover told you?”

“Of course not.” I keep my voice calm, not revealing the offense I’m definitely taking on my sister’s behalf. “But she was acting weird whenever anyone talked about Bigfoot and then my sister Daisy ran into Bigfoot in the woods and heard him talk while he was carrying Barley under one arm. It all added up.”

He tilts his head to the side, lips pursed. He’s not buying my story. “So Clover knows you’re here?”

“Clover doesn’t even know I know you’re Bigfoot, and I’d like to keep it that way.” That came out sharper than I intended. This guy has me all the way off my game. The way he looks at me like he actually sees me makes me want to stop playing and to run away at the same time. I don’t want to find out what he sees in me. “I don’t want them to have any clue what I’m up to.”

Daisy was with me when I found our grandfather’s treasure map and her immediate reaction was to destroy it. She hated our father, who passed almost a year ago. He spent several years trying to find his father’s treasure, the stolen loot from his own thieving and conning life, and Daisy is certain there is no treasure. She thinks hunting for it is a dangerous wild goose chase.

Our other sisters, Dani, Goldy, and Clover, hate our father possibly more than Daisy, and I can’t risk them agreeing with her and destroying the map.

I need to find this treasure. It’s a part of our family legacy and a way to learn more about our grandfather. To find out if lying, stealing, and cheating are bred in my blood or if I can overcome it. The treasure map is the only link I have to my grandfather and that part of my family.

There’s more to the treasure map, though, a shady, certain feeling I have that if I can find the treasure and bring my sisters out into the woods with me to recover it, we’ll all get closer.

We’ve lived together for nearly a year as part of a requirement to receive our inheritance from our father, and I feel farther from them than I did when we lived hundreds of miles apart.

They’ll never agree to spending weeks helping me find the treasure, but if I find it first, then arrange a short, fun adventure for us to find it together, they won’t be able to say no. For once, I won’t be the baby of the family being left behind by my sisters. I’ll be right in the middle of the adventure with them.

It’s a long-shot, but we only have to live together for a few more months and this is the only idea I have.

“So you want me to help you look for this treasure?”

I glance at the woods. The sun is still bright overhead, but it’s dark amongst the trees.

I shudder. “You know this forest better than probably anyone else. I’ll tell you what to look for and you can tell me if any area looks especially promising.”

He sways with Barley in his arms, his frown deepening as he considers my offer. “I don’t think so.”

I stare, confused. “What?”

“You should tell your sisters. If Clover’s on board, I’ll help.”

I open my mouth to ask him… I have no idea, so I shut it. I can’t let emotion get in my way. I have to be smart about this. “It’s hardly a surprise if they know about it from the beginning.” I widen my eyes and giggle.

He shudders. “Stop that. It’s freaking me out.”

This guy. “Stop what?” I bat my eyelashes, playing up my confusion. Guys love it when I bat my eyelashes. Or they did when I was eighteen and had blond hair and a low-cut dress on.

It dawns on me slowly. It might not have been the eyelash batting that was doing it for them.

“Stop pretending to be someone you aren’t.” He shudders again.

I roll my eyes. “This coming from the guy who dresses up like Bigfoot on the regular?”

“I have a good reason for that.” He lifts his chin, all defensive.

“Whatever. I don’t really care. If you won’t help me, that’s fine. I can handle this on my own.”

He snorts. “Don’t try that poor me act on me. Clover says one of your sisters is dating a forest ranger. I’m sure he’ll help you.”

Ugh, he’s so annoying. And hot. But more annoying. “Grant is a rule follower. There’s no way he won’t tell my sisters what I’ve asked him to do.” And they’ll destroy the map for my own good.

Bigfoot crosses his arms over his chest. “Not if he agrees this treasure hunt is a good idea, and your sisters will love the idea. What aren’t you telling me?”

I stare at him in the dimming light, trying to figure out what’s going to work on him, and come up empty. Flirting doesn’t work, being sweet doesn’t work, and being tough isn’t working.

And I can’t tell him that the problem is Grant knows how my sisters feel about my father and, if he doesn’t tell my sisters, he’ll try to change my mind about the treasure hunt for my own good.

In the forest, a crack echoes like a gunshot. I glance over my shoulder, but the trees are dense, the shadows heavy. I wrap my arms around myself. There’s nothing there, and I need to focus on Bigfoot.

Maybe he’s the kind of guy who needs to feel like something is his own idea before he gets on board. I sigh, heavily. “You’re right. This is a stupid idea. I’ll just… Well, I don’t know what I’ll do. Should I burn the map? Just forget about the treasure?”

Leaves crackle and a frog or forest monster croaks loudly. I take a step toward Bigfoot and he smirks.

“We both know you won’t do either of those things,” he says. “And you sure as hell aren’t going into that forest on your own. You’re practically hugging me to get away from it already.”

I roll my eyes until I realize I have to look up to see his face because I’ve gotten so close to him. His eyes are an ever-shifting shade of hazel, with the barest lines spreading out from the corners. He winks.

Damn it. I take two large steps back.

Out of desperation, I go for the last motivator in my toolbox, the one that never fails to make men do my bidding. “Fine. I’ll just find some other strapping, strong, capable woodsman to help me.”

He puffs out his chest. “You think I’m strapping?”

I growl in frustration. “God. What is wrong with you?”

He grins. “There she is.”

I’m stunned for a moment by the upturn of his lips. His eyes light with the smile and my knees go momentarily weak. I didn’t think he could possibly be more attractive.

I press my lips together tight to suppress a reflexive smile. “I don’t like you.”

His grin vanishes. “And I don’t like to be manipulated. If you want my help, get your sisters involved. I’ll deal with Clover directly.”

With another growl, I get in my car and slam the door, glaring through the windshield at him. He waves with a smirk and it takes all my willpower to put the car in reverse instead of revving it and driving toward him.

Not that I’d hit him. I’d just give him a good scare.