Chapter 9
9
Margot
M argot couldn’t bear to see Liam in the light of day. When she’d called him, she was desperate, but she also knew he’d help her. He was that kind of guy—such a polar opposite of the man who had taken her out to a bar despite the fact that she’d specifically told him she wasn’t interested in it.
That was only the beginning of one of the worst dates of her life.
She’d been embarrassed and upset that she’d had to call someone to save her. Liam had every right to lecture her, seeing as he was the one she chose to wake up for her nonsense. And the fact that he came without a second thought further proved that he was simply too good for her.
If she’d allowed herself to fantasize just a little over the possibility of a life with him, those thoughts completely crashed and burned the second he put her in her place. There were no excuses. He was right. She’d let herself become so self-destructive that she couldn’t see a possibility where she could find a way out.
That was why she was sitting in Sal’s with a mug of coffee in her hands. All she had to do was wait. Her father usually went to work at eight in the morning. The bank didn’t open until nine, but he liked to be there early even though, as part of management, he could choose his own hours. She never understood the appeal of doing such a thing. Sure, getting to work early usually meant going home early, but not for her father.
She stared at the coffee in dismay. She was nothing like her father. Perhaps that was why they had such a hard time getting along—especially now when he really didn’t have much control over her.
He couldn’t stop her from making poor decisions. He couldn’t lay down consequences that worried her and would keep her in line. The only reason she hadn’t called him was more for her own mental self-preservation. She wasn’t scared. She simply didn’t want to deal with the extra time it would take for him to tell her everything she’d done wrong since she left for Julliard.
Margot released the mug and placed her hands in her lap. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Eight thirty-two. That should have given him enough time to leave the house and head to work. She could probably walk the couple of miles back home and then spend the rest of the day coming up with what she could tell him that wouldn’t immediately have him judging her.
Change.
That was what she needed to focus on.
Her thoughts shifted to Liam. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she recalled the way he looked at her last night in the truck. If she didn’t believe that he had feelings for her before, then she did now.
The problem was that she wasn’t any good for him. How could she saddle him with all her issues when she knew exactly what he would be getting into?
She placed a hand on her stomach. The growling and gurgling hadn’t stopped since she’d smelled that apple pie they had on the counter. All the walking and emotional stress that she’d dealt with had her pushing away even a crumb of food. She wasn’t going to eat until she thought more clearly about what her next moves were.
Of course, Prada was the first priority. The animal couldn’t care for herself. Next, Margot needed to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Was dancing in her future at all? Or was she doomed to find some desk job that made her dread waking up every morning?
Oh, she prayed not.
Margot stood and tossed a couple of bills on the table, the mug of coffee untouched. She headed out the door and wandered home with more purpose than she’d had when she left the Keagan property. Home. Shower. Fresh change of clothes, and then she’d head out before her father got home from work.
She repeated that idea in her head over and over, even as she headed up the back steps to her home. Chances were that while her father wasn’t thrilled that she hadn’t come home last night, he wouldn’t go so far as to lock her out of the house while he was at work. Although she was probably lucky that he hadn’t called the sheriff’s office to file a missing person’s report at this point.
The back door was unlocked and would lead her right into the kitchen. She could grab a banana from the counter and head straight upstairs to get ready for the day.
Unfortunately, the best laid plans had a habit of not working out.
She took one step inside only to find her father seated at the table with his newspaper in hand. It was almost like he knew the exact moment she was going to make an appearance. It was too late to step backward after falling into this pit of despair. He’d heard her. It was clear by the way he tilted his head slightly after the door clicked closed behind her.
Too bad her father had the hearing of a bat.
He flicked the newspaper and turned the page. Nothing. He was saying absolutely nothing at all. That was bad, right? Oh, it was most certainly bad. All he had to do was turn just enough to catch a glimpse of her. Then he could really let her have it.
Margot sighed. “You’re supposed to be at work.”
“And you were supposed to be home…” His voice trailed off as he checked the clock on the wall. “…over eight hours ago.” He frowned and turned back to his newspaper.
She stifled a groan. “I get it. You’re disappointed in me. You think that I’m wasting my life and I need to grow up.”
The fact that he didn’t respond was all the evidence she needed to know she was right in her interpretation. His eyes didn’t meet her gaze whatsoever as he continued his hard stare into his newspaper.
Every part of her body revolted against her. The walls were closing in. Her breath came out shorter as she paced from one side of the kitchen to the next. “I don’t know how else to tell you this, but I’m trying to figure things out. I get that you don’t believe me, but that’s the truth.”
At that, her father looked up at her. “You’re in your twenties, Margot. You’ve had more than enough time to figure things out. You’re a capable young woman who’s got a good head on her shoulders, and you’re wasting that potential.”
She flinched. This was how all the conversations went when he wasn’t getting his way. She should be used to it by now. She should be able to brush off his judgments like she’d done with so many people in her life who simply didn’t like her. But she couldn’t.
Her father had raised her. Whether she liked it or not, she valued his opinion. There were countless times when he’d been right. He’d point something out, and she’d end up at the same conclusion after going through the wringer first.
Deep down, she knew he was right and that she was fighting it. Finance was not where her heart was. She had two joys in this life. The stage in New York where she could dance out her troubles, and the rolling hills in Colorado.
Perhaps that was what had brought her here.
The fields, mountains, trees, and critters in Copper Creek had always been of interest. What if she was looking for something that was right in front of her? There was an itch in her mind; she was close to unlocking something she hadn’t considered before. But then her father’s cold words broke through her reveries and snuffed out whatever she’d nearly discovered.
“You should go back to school. Finish a degree in something useful.”
Her defenses slammed back into place, and she whirled around to stare at him. “What?”
“College. Figure out what you want, fine. But then do something productive. Whether you like it or not, you’re running out of time. You can’t start over when you’re older.”
“Who says?” she said. “People lose their jobs or change careers all the time in their fifties.”
Rhett tossed the paper on the table and scowled at her. “No daughter of mine will be living with me in her fifties.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say that was what would happen to me.”
“But it’s there in the recesses of your mind, and it’s holding you back.”
Margot snorted and then folded her arms tight against her chest if only to put some form of barrier between herself and her father. “You don’t know me like you think you do.”
“On the contrary, I know you well enough to know that you haven’t a clue what you want to do with your life, and you’ve only come home because you feel safe.”
“Is that so bad?” It wasn’t her father that made her feel safe. It was this home—this place full of memories of her mother that offered the escape.
He rose from his chair and shook his head with disappointment. “I thought I raised you better than that.” He pushed the chair into the table a little harder than was necessary, and then he strode from the room like he was the villain in a fairytale. He might as well have been.
Her hands came to her face, their cool, clammy temperature a short-lived boon on her hot face. As much as this house was an escape, it had also become her prison. She needed to get out of there.
Margot wandered most of town all morning and into the afternoon, then arrived at the Keagan property a couple of hours earlier than planned. She knew she’d come in contact with Caleb at some point, but she didn’t care. He couldn’t hurt her like her father had.
She craved something else.
The strange part about being at the ranch wasn’t that she felt safe; it was that she felt unburdened. That could probably be said about most of this area if she were honest with herself. It wasn’t this location specifically; it was the endless fields and the cacophony of sounds from the birds in the surrounding trees. The chirps from the songbirds were like an orchestra to her ears and it soothed her soul.
Margot slipped from the car her father had let her drive and wandered toward the barn, but then she thought better of it and headed right past it. She wasn’t due to start work quite yet. All she needed was some time in the meadow that Liam had taken her to when they’d gone on their second date.
It wasn’t far from the house, and when they were younger, it was overgrown with wildflowers. That was one of the things that made her love it so much. A place as unkempt and chaotic as that meadow was one of the most beautiful things she’d seen in her life.
It showed her something could be a mess and still have purpose.
She wandered along the trail, unsure if she was heading the right way, but ultimately decided it didn’t matter. She could close her eyes, touch the tops of the plants as she passed them and let herself find peace right here with no one to judge her or tell her that she was a big screw-up. Here, she could be herself.
A melody played in her head, one that wasn’t part of any big production. She wasn’t even sure it existed. Margot bent over, stretching until she touched her toes then lifted a foot over her head. Her limp didn’t prevent her from dancing on her own if she was careful. Though she had recently made a small attempt at dancing, it had been too long since she’d last truly indulged in the craft that had consumed her life for the last decade.
It was time to dance again.