Chapter Twelve
A Lot to Protect
Who knew color-coding could be such a damn turn-on?
I don’t know how he did it, but he even made the number four look sexy.
Without sparing a glance at me, he set a note at the top of the table and then laid out each book based on the date embossed on its rich brown leather spine.
He repeated the move until at least five books were crowded under their labeled year.
I cleared my throat, and he looked over at me, his eyes stricken.
‘Shit. Sorry. I get into work mode and lose track of everything around me.’
‘No.’ I flailed my hand toward the neat stacks. ‘You’re making the job easier.’
‘Okay, good.’ He smirked. ‘Let’s start at the furthest date back and work our way forward.’
I laid a hand on a time-worn tome, whose yellowed pages and cracked cover said it’d been sitting in a dark and dusty place for much too long.
‘Who said anything about you leading?’ I said, a little heavy on the snark.
‘That’s fine by me. I like it when a woman takes control.’
I bit the inside of my cheek, reminding myself we were here to work, not flirt, even though the raw grittiness of his voice made several parts of my body tingle.
Stop it. No matter what Aster says, this guy is not THE ONE.
She’d been wrong once. She was wrong now.
The wafer-thin pages scratched against my fingertips. Most of the early archives covered the basics of the town’s incorporation. Requirements for getting government funding for things like a post office and a bank.
‘Dandelion, huh?’
I knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone.
‘My mother, Belladonna, is obsessed with a book called The Fellowship of Flowers. She swears by it. Says that personalities can be determined by asking someone what their favorite bloom is. When I was born, she named me Dandelion because they’re considered a symbol of resilience.’
He paused. Gave me an assessing and amused gaze. ‘Yep, it fits you.’
I swiped at his shoulder, but he caught my hand and threaded his fingers through mine.
Like so many times before, there was a blast of heat between us followed by a small tug toward him.
He gave me a satisfied grin like he felt it too, and I pushed the thought away because I was being damn ridiculous.
‘And Aster means?’ he said in a low voice.
‘Wisdom and patience.’
He bit into his full lower lip, and all I wanted was to trace the mark with my fingers. ‘What about Lia?’
‘It’s Camellia,’ I said roughly. ‘This one I have to hand to Belladonna. It represents passion, and my sister loves to passionately argue.’
That got a laugh.
‘And what does your father think of all these floral names?’
My body stiffened, and I pulled away.
‘Forgive me. That’s none of my business.’
‘We all have different fathers. None of us have ever met them, and Belladonna has never offered up their names.’
‘Like I told you, my dad wasn’t really around, either. But my mom is pretty great.’
I wished I could have said the same thing about Belladonna, but I couldn’t. She’d always put herself first. A fact that had stung for most of my life.
He cleared his throat and said, ‘Should we get back to it?’
‘Yes,’ I managed to choke out.
We went back to studying the archives, passing several books back and forth. With each one we set aside, the knot in my chest loosened. All of this was going to be a fool’s errand. Prove that there was nothing here that would lend itself to the tales of magic.
‘Have you heard how Julius is doing?’ He reached for another large tome, brushing my shoulder, and my pulse kicked up again.
‘I called the judge at lunchtime. He was still a little panicked about the whole thing. Worried about how swollen Julian was. He and Eric love that dog more than anything.’
He gave an understanding nod. ‘I can sympathize, but last night he seemed smart. Like he was a level-headed guy.’
‘Smart. Yes. Level-headed, not so much.’
‘What do you mean? He is a judge, right? Isn’t being level-headed a requirement of the job?’
‘In the courtroom, he’s fair and impartial. Outside, he does everything in his power to defend this town. That means he can get a bit assertive.’
‘I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I can understand why he’d be that way. There’s a lot to protect here.’
He gave me that weighted stare as he sat back, stretched his arms over his head, revealing a strip of tan skin, and a peek at the top of his black boxer briefs. I hated the way my throat went bone dry. How my fingers ached to touch him.
The pull toward him made zero sense. I’d always been cautious.
The one who asked questions. Probed people’s intentions and motivations.
But for some reason, every single time I was around Bryce, I was drawn to him.
Like he was the strength of the tide pulling me out to sea. The flame that drew a moth closer.
I forced my attention back on the archives in front of us. ‘Have you always been comfortable interviewing people? I’d guess that requires a special kind of patience and skill set.’
He tented his hands on the table. ‘I suppose. The key is to put the person at ease. When I speak to an informant, witness or even a victim, I explain what I’m trying to do with my piece. How offering up information can be difficult, but it can lead to greater change.’
He was committed, resolute, and I needed to know more. ‘Give me an example.’
He settled his weight in the chair as if readying for a long story.
‘My first real reporting job was for a small newspaper in Orange County. A secretary at a local high school was accused of embezzling money from their parent-teacher organization. She refused to talk to me because her lawyer told her to stay quiet, but there was something about the situation that was off. She lived in a shoebox-sized apartment. Drove a twelve-year-old car that desperately needed a new transmission. Didn’t wear fancy clothes or jewelry.
If she had stolen the ten thousand dollars that was missing, where was it?
Because she wasn’t spending it on herself. ’
‘Offshore bank account? Hidden underneath her mattress?’ I joked, but his face stayed sober.
‘Through a little more sleuthing, I found out she was overdrawn at her bank too.’ A flicker of shame rippled across his face.
‘I’m not proud of what I did next. For a few days, I followed her, eventually approaching her outside the local grocery store with what I’d learned.
I promised I’d be fair if she trusted me.
Talked to me. Told the truth.’ The bracketed lines around his mouth tightened.
‘We sat down the next day at a coffee shop she chose. I asked about her life, her family, her dreams. They were all honest and simple answers. Not the responses of an embezzler.’
The edges of his brows dipped together like the memory of that time still twisted something dark inside him.
‘You can’t leave it at that. What happened to her?’
‘She confessed that she’d been having an affair with the school’s principal. It was a rebound after his divorce. He took the money to pay off his debts but got scared. Made it look like she’d stolen it.’
‘What a shithead,’ I seethed.
‘It’s worse. She said she loved him. Believed covering for him was proof of her commitment. I told her I’d hold the story for forty-eight hours so she could tell her attorney and set things right.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yes. She ended up giving the guy up and getting her heart broken in the process.’
‘But you kept her out of jail.’
He gave a sad nod, a reddish-gold lock of hair falling onto his forehead. ‘But I also blew apart what she believed was real.’
He went silent, rubbing the edges of the worn paper between his strong fingers. ‘That’s enough of a downer for today. Have you found anything?’
There was a hitch to his shoulders. A sharp cadence to his breath. He was holding something back, but I’d learned from Lia that when you pushed people for answers they weren’t ready to give, they shut down. ‘No. Nothing yet.’
He grabbed another book and went back to studying the pages.
I forced my attention back to my own reading about the town in 1873.
It provided a few interesting details about Harvest Moon.
How it was first incorporated by Norton Rothwell, a pioneer who wanted to settle the land for himself and his family.
Other pioneers quickly followed, believing the area was lucrative for mining.
Eventually Rothwell became a leader, being elected the town’s first mayor.
From what I’d gleaned from Grandpa Beau before he’d passed, the McGuires came to town ten years later, escaping a challenging life in the Scottish Highlands.
Over the next years, the town swelled as silver was discovered in places like Leadville, Silverton and Aspen.
As we read, the stairs to the second floor creaked. Ruthie’s scrutinizing stare appeared at the top of the landing like she was expecting Bryce to have me spread out on the table naked. The thought alone had me fanning myself.
‘Are you warm?’ He started to move from window to window. ‘I can crack one of these open if you need it.’
‘Bryce, I’m fine.’
I waved him back to the table, as Ruthie disappeared back down the stairs.
He picked up another book, and I focused back on the one in front of me dated 1875.
I flipped page after page. When I reached the last entry, I closed the back cover.
An odd swell in the center of the leather had me flipping to the inside back page again.
Bryce’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. ‘It’s my mom. I have to take this.’
I shooed him away like it was fine, and he moved to a quiet back corner of the room.
As soon as he was distracted, I ran my hand over the back page.
Along the edges, there was an odd, faded yellow stitching.
I worked a fingernail under the threads until I had most of it loosened.
Sliding my hand into the open pocket, my fingers skidded over rough material.
I gently tugged, and a cracked leather journal no bigger than my hand came out.