Chapter 5
Chapter Five
PAIGE
Ipulled the covers up tight around my shoulders, trying not to shiver.
With every exhale, my breath came out in a cloud of ghostly white.
I knew if I braved the chill in the air and turned on the taps in my bathroom, they’d sputter.
The light switch on the wall would click uselessly.
When it happened, it happened like this.
Electricity out. Plumbing dry. And my room so very cold.
Some nights, I could ignore it and fall back asleep.
I’d wake in the morning to bright sunshine, running water, and working lights, as if the icy cold and dark had never happened.
Other nights, I slid from bed, pulling my robe tight around me, and braved the dark hall to flip the breakers.
Why flipping the breakers would fix the plumbing along with the electricity, I couldn’t say.
But sometimes it did. None of it made sense.
I never thought of Heartstone Manor as creepy—until times like this, in the dark of night, when I could see my breath in the moonlight.
Heartstone was unlike any nannying job I’d had before, and exactly like the others in one specific way: my nanny family was great.
I liked the Sawyers. I trusted Hope and Griffen.
They loved their family and adored their daughter.
I’d picked up some of the family lore in the last year and knew what had happened to the patriarch, Prentice.
Griffen’s younger brother, Ford, had been in prison for a year for killing his own father.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when Griffen let Ford move right back into the Manor after his release.
It seemed none of his siblings thought he’d done it, but love could be blind.
I couldn’t say I was thrilled when Ford took up residence in the room opposite mine in the guest wing.
If I’d known I’d be sharing a hallway with a killer, I don’t know that I would have agreed to live in the Manor.
But now that I was here, it was too awkward to ask to move.
It would be obvious why I wanted to leave.
And hadn’t getting into the house been part of my goal?
It would be a lot harder to track down the mysterious Sarah Sawyer if I were living in town.
Not that I’d gotten far with that anyway.
The Sawyers were fairly open about their recent history.
Everything since the day their father had died seemed to be fair game for conversation, but their lives before that were a dead subject.
I’d managed to learn that Sarah Sawyer had been Griffen and Ford’s mother, and that she’d run off when they were young.
Given the timing, I was almost positive their missing mother was the woman who’d written those letters to my father.
As far as I could tell, no one had any idea where Sarah was, and I’d never heard any mention of my father.
Maybe if I’d approached the Sawyers openly, I could have found out more, but now I was stuck.
I liked my job, and I liked the family. I’d wondered if I’d feel isolated in this small town in the mountains, or if I’d miss being in the classroom.
I’d spent the last few years with my mother substituting kindergarten at the local elementary school, and I’d loved it.
But now I wondered if part of that love had been the escape from my mother’s house.
Because now, running herd on four kids, one of them an infant, I wasn’t feeling the urge to go back to the classroom.
I’d come here to find Sarah and my father.
But if I asked openly, they’d throw me out.
Now that I understood how security-conscious they were, I knew that for a fact.
I hadn’t bothered to hide my connection to my father, nor would I have known how to do so.
And clearly, they hadn’t made the connection to Sarah Sawyer either, because I was here.
It helped that I was who I said I was; my résumé was filled with the truth, so I’d passed the background checks.
So here I was, the fox in the henhouse. And though I was keeping my eyes open for any further information about Sarah and my father, I was at a stalemate.
I could ask openly for what I wanted and risk being booted out, or give up on my quest and carry on as I was, in a job I loved, while I figured out the rest of my future.
So far, I was sticking with option number two.
Everything would have been great—except for the puffs of frozen air coming from my mouth with every exhalation, and the killer sleeping across the hall.
I had to keep reminding myself that Ford Sawyer was dangerous.
This house was filled with dangerous men.
Despite his charm and good humor, I knew Griffen’s background.
I wouldn’t want him to consider me an enemy.
And Hawk, our head of security, was considerably less good-humored and charming and obviously chock-full of danger.
Every single member of the security team could take me apart with their pinky fingers.
None of them made me nervous like Ford Sawyer.
His family was convinced he hadn’t pulled the trigger on Prentice, but from what I’d heard, there’d been little love between them by the time Prentice died.
Ford had gotten his brother Griffen exiled in an attempt to take everything that should have been Griffen’s.
Why wouldn’t he take the second step of eliminating his father and take the crown for himself?
I’d heard enough town gossip to know Prentice Sawyer had forcibly retired his own father and taken over the company. Wouldn’t Ford follow his example?
I didn’t fully understand how Ford’s name had been cleared. I was the nanny, not family. I caught whatever crumbs of information fell by my ears, but I rarely got the full picture—unless something was related to one of the kids. Fair enough. It was their family business, after all, not mine.
Griffen was so concerned with everyone’s safety, I doubted he had a blind spot big enough to move a killer in down the hall from his wife and infant daughter. But people could be weird when it came to family. Griffen was human. His judgment couldn’t be perfect all the time.
I clenched my toes under the blanket, trying to will warmth back into the little icy blocks at the end of my feet.
The tip of my nose felt like it was covered in frost. That was it.
I shoved the covers back and rolled, slamming my frozen feet onto the chilly carpet at the side of my bed as I snatched up my robe.
I was tired. Tomorrow would be busy, and I needed my sleep.
Whatever was turning this end of the guest wing into an icebox, I wasn’t going to take it lying down, shivering under the covers.
Maybe flipping the breaker wouldn’t work—it wasn’t a guarantee—but I had to try.
The hall was dark when I opened my door, the sconces off.
That could be the power failure. Or it could be that the last person up had flicked the switch.
Either way, I didn’t need them. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the darkened hallway.
I knew my way to the storage closet at the end of the hall by feel.
I shuffled along the smooth, polished hardwood—so cold under my bare feet—and felt in front of me, my fingers catching the trim around the door, the cold metal of the handle as it turned beneath my fingers.
The door swung open into pitch black. Before I could take a step, hands closed over my arms and yanked me inside.
I stumbled, coming up hard against a body. Tall, broad, male. That was all I registered before I was turned, swung around, and shoved. My back hit the wall, alarm spiking down my spine, and I let out a shriek, too scared to be embarrassed by the sound.
The figure holding me went still. “Paige.” I heard my name growled.
“Let go of me,” I spat out. I knew that voice. Ford.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers tight around my upper arms—not hurting, but not letting go.
I yanked back, my head bumping off the wall behind me. I wanted to pull away, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. “Let go.”
“I’m sorry, Paige. I didn’t realize it was you.” His voice was a low, rumbly growl. I was suddenly glad I couldn’t see his face.
“Yeah, I got that,” I said, my heart thundering in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry.
I was in this dark, tiny closet with Ford Sawyer, his hands on me, and I was frozen—not from the cold this time, but with indecision.
My brain was screaming. Run, run, run. Throw up my knee, nail him in the balls, and get away.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d dissuaded someone who wouldn’t let go of me.
But I didn’t do it. I stood there, silent, his hands on my arms like iron bands.
When he moved in, closing the distance between us, I let out a slow, shuddering breath.
I should run, but my legs wouldn’t obey.
My brain was telling me to get away from Ford Sawyer, but the rest of me was happy exactly where I was.
Pressed to his long, lean body, the woodsy, male scent of him teasing me. I didn’t want to want him, but I did.
“Paige,” was all he said. Half a question, half a statement.
I didn’t know what to say.
His hands loosened a fraction, and my brain shouted: This is it. Run! I stayed where I was. When his fingers renewed their grip, I didn’t pull away. I let him draw me closer, my skin heating up, my heartbeat quickening in anticipation, not fear.
“Paige,” he said again.
And this time I said, “Ford?” But that was all I got out.
The heat of his breath grazed my cheek. His lips followed, sipping at my skin, finding my mouth in the dark. That first kiss—so soft, gentle, nothing I would have expected from a man who carried darkness like Ford Sawyer.
One hand dropped from my arm and came up, fingers sliding into my loose hair, his palm cupping my chin. “Paige,” he breathed and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
The second kiss wasn’t gentle. There was demand, and I gave, letting my head tip back, my lips part, my tongue stroke against his.
So much passion. Heat. His mouth was hard and hot on mine.
His other hand dropped from my chin, winding around my waist, pulling me tight to his body.
He kissed me as if I’d disappear from his arms if he stopped.
My brain stopped shouting for me to run as my arms slid up, pulling him closer. I’d lost the ability to reason. I could only feel his mouth, setting me on fire.
I wanted more.
It had been a long time since I’d been kissed—life too complicated to make room for this kind of indulgence—but I knew my long drought had nothing to do with how I was responding to this kiss. In a house filled with good-looking men, why this one? The one I should most want nothing to do with.
I didn’t know. But my arms wound around him, my breath coming in gasps as he kissed me as if madness had taken over us both. I knew only wanting—couldn’t, shouldn’t, but did.
The lights flared on, the single incandescent bulb above us swaying lightly, illuminating the room in a flickering golden glow.
With that, my brain took over again, and I stumbled, reaching up to swipe the back of my hand over my damp mouth.
My eyes stretched impossibly wide as I stared up at Ford.
His cheekbones were sharp, his sea-green eyes burning in the sudden light.
“I… I…” I couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Snapping my mouth shut, I ducked under his raised arm, disappearing into the hall and my room. I slammed the door and turned the lock behind me before diving under the covers, my heart still pounding, head spinning, trying to make sense of what I’d just done.
Ford Sawyer might be a killer, but he was a hell of a kisser. I could still feel his hands on me like a brand, still taste him on my tongue. And while I should be glad I’d escaped him, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d get the chance to kiss him again.