Chapter 5
C H A P T E R
F I V E
brutal honesty
Summers in Argentum were a veritable feast for the senses: riots of wildflowers unfurled across the hills in tongues of prismatic fire and the air itself became choked with the resinous notes of pine pollen.
The early settlers had done their best to pare back the wilderness, but nature had a certain lawlessness that could be governed by no man; it always found a way back.
Stalks of mullein grew out of the shoulder of the road in tall phallic spears with even more weeds bursting through the cracks in the pavement.
In some parts, they nearly lifted the heavy concrete slabs.
Cal had parked his car next to a bank of these wildflowers and saw Nadine shoot the hip-high plants a wary glance before turning to his car.
“This is a different car than the one you had before.”
“Yes,” he said, amused. “Do you like it?”
“All cars are the same to me, but it’s nice, I guess.”
Ben would have laughed to hear his fancy imported toy reduced to “nice” but Cal hid his smile and opened the door for her. She leaped back when it opened automatically, nearly tumbling herself right into the flowers. He had to check his reaction and school his expression. “Do you drive?”
She gave the car door the same look she’d given the flowers. “Not if I can help it.”
“How come?”
“Because I don’t like knowing I could do everything correctly and still die on the road because someone’s looking at their cell phone.”
She stopped, an embarrassed look crossing her face as she gripped the buttery leather like it was the only thing keeping her from plunging into the abyss. Her despair lay between them, unchallenged. “Relax,” Cal said quietly, watching her hands. “It’s leather. Not dynamite.”
Her shoulders rose an inch before she visibly caught herself. “That’s funny coming from someone who lives in a house that might as well have ‘do not touch’ written on the front door.”
“Touch whatever you like,” he shot back, and was delighted when her face flamed.
Once she was buckled in and settled, she clutched her bag to her knees with her face turned away from him.
Towards the window. Though she hid from him, her reflection betrayed the almost desperate wistfulness of her expression as she stared out past the glass to the trees scrolling by.
The sight of the pines seemed to calm her.
Do you like my woods, little sparrow? A tide of possession swelled within him as he watched her look at his family’s land. Would you like me to show them to you?
Would you like to be mine?
Cal thought of his forest glade where the ghost pipes grew basked in shade.
He wanted to take her there, chasing her down through the sentry pines before laying her down amongst the wildflowers.
Her restless hands clenching and unclenching around the straps of her bag—so much nervous energy, with nowhere for it to go—he could imagine them clawing at the soil with that same urgency.
I’m close. His own fingers flexed on the wheel in a mirror of hers. So fucking close.
Rael would not approve and neither would his father. Get rid of her—as if it were that simple. His lips still burned from her fiery kiss, made sweeter still by the punishing sting of her teeth. She was far more vicious than she looked, which made her all the more appealing.
Nadine made a sound—small, stealthy. Cal cut his eyes in her direction and saw the whites of her eyes flash away. Quickly, but not so quickly that he hadn’t glimpsed the watery sheen of what looked suspiciously like unshed tears.
“Is there radio?” she asked hoarsely. “It’s so quiet.”
He flicked on the stereo and she sat up straighter, poised and alert. Unsure as to whether this was a reaction to the song or its volume, Cal turned down the dial, his hand hovering over the center console for a beat before it returned back to the wheel. “Are you all right?”
“It’s just the heat.” She still wouldn’t look at him and that tremor hadn’t left her voice. “And the shock of seeing that poor raven.”
“Nature can be cruel,” he said, almost apologetically. And it’s in our nature to be cruel.
Nadine sighed, her breath fogging the window. She gave no reply, retreating into herself in a way that made him eager to pursue. Hurry slowly, he reminded himself. There was time aplenty to make his move and it wouldn’t do to scare her off now.
He had debated on where to take her for lunch and what kind of impression he wanted to make.
Down in the foothills there were a number of restaurants with glass and cedar facades designed to leave spectators starstruck, but Cal suspected his shrinking sparrow wouldn’t be impressed by that.
She was already antsy and given her food sensitivities and propensity for self-blame, simpler fare seemed safer and a more casual atmosphere would give them space to talk undisturbed.
When he pulled up in front of The Heirloom, there was naked relief on her face, though she tried to hide this from him too, and he knew immediately that he’d made the right choice.
Such an expressive face. He wondered what it would look like in bed.
She fell into step beside him with an endearingly awkward little hop.
Bells chimed overhead as they entered, followed by the low hum of ambient chatter.
The foyer was all old-world charm, a small English cottage by way of big American corporate.
They were seated in the back, beside a display of preserves in mason jars whose tops had been wrapped in gingham and tied off with ribbon, and a framed print of dew-studded toadstools.
“Hi there,” the waitress said brightly. “Welcome to The Heirloom!” She gave him a slow, calculated smile after looking him up and down. “Do you want to hear our seasonal specials?”
“No. Just the steak and cheese omelet for me, thanks.” Cal shoved up his sleeves and looked over at Nadine as he tucked his sunglasses into the open neck of his shirt. “Nadine?” he prompted, a hint of his earlier possessiveness creeping into his voice. “What do you want?”
“Um, I have a food allergy. I’m allergic to corn.
” She sank into her seat as the waitress reluctantly began jotting down notes on her pad, her smile noticeably cooler.
“I was thinking the avocado toast on sourdough bread might be fine, but would you be able to check the ingredients on the spread and the bread? That includes baking powder,” she finished miserably.
“Yeah, I’ll ask the kitchen.” The waitress collected their menus and Cal discreetly pulled his hand back when her fingers lingered too long over his. “Any drinks?”
“Black coffee,” said Cal. “And some water for the table.”
“I’ll have some orange juice,” said Nadine.
The waitress left and Cal thought, Alone at last. Nadine’s discomfort was palpable and on some level, that did please him because it meant she cared enough about his opinion of her that the mere idea of his scorn was causing her distress. But he didn’t want her distressed.
“Do you have to do that every time you go out?”
“Order orange juice?”
He simply gazed back at her, one eyebrow arched. That blush he loved crept into her cheekbones and she looked away guiltily, like a scolded child.
“Fine. Yes, every time. Unless I know the place well enough.”
“What if someone makes a mistake? It seems like it would be easy to do.”
“Well, I don’t die.” She spoke in a self-effacing tone that made him wonder how many times she had been forced to apologize for something she couldn’t help.
“It’s not a real allergy. I don’t get any inflammation, my throat doesn’t close up.
I just get really sick for a couple hours.
I guess it’s more of a sensitivity, but if you tell that to people, they don’t take you seriously.
They just think you’re being—” she hesitated, her eyes shifting away from his “—high maintenance.”
Studying her downcast eyes, Cal felt that familiar rush of violence in his blood at the idea that anyone in her life had made her feel worthless for things that weren’t her fault. “I don’t think you’re high maintenance,” he said.
The waitress came back before she could reply, much to his irritation.
She hovered as she dispensed their drinks, plunking down Nadine’s orange juice and then asking him if he wanted creamer, sugar, a new spoon.
They all come to you hovered in his ears, delivered in his brother’s voice of bitter mocking. All but the one he wanted.
When the waitress finally departed—again—she left a thick silence in her wake.
Nadine poured some of the sparkling water he’d ordered into her orange juice without looking at him.
Her subdued affect from the car had returned, draping itself around her shoulders like a dark mantle.
“I’d like to ask my ten questions now, if you don’t mind. ”
“Is that your first question?” he asked teasingly.
“What? No. Are you—” Seeing his smile, she broke off. Her brows pulled together. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“I’m good at tripping people up. It comes in handy when things go to court.” Or when he had to draw sullen little birds out of hiding. “What’s your first question, Nadine?”
“Why do you all live at home?”
Cal paused. “What?”
“You all have good-paying jobs. Well—you and Ben do,” she said awkwardly. “I don’t know what Odessa does. But why live at home instead of your own place?”
Because his father enjoyed having them arranged about the house. It was far easier to pull the strings when they were dangling in close proximity, after all.
Cal studied the woman across from him, taking in her unsmiling mouth, her searching eyes. Did she have any inkling as to what was really going on here? he wondered, not for the first time. Or did she think they were just another eccentric rich family?
“I do have my own place.” Speaking slowly, he went on to add, “I own several properties. And Odessa is a graphic designer, and does reasonably well.” When she deigns to do the work.