Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
W ard pulled to a stop in front of his house and stared. There was a car in the driveway. There shouldn’t have been any cars in the driveway. There definitely shouldn’t be any empty cars.
The lack of people in the car implied that those people had gone somewhere else, like inside the house.
He distinctly remembered telling Della not to open the door, much less invite someone in.
The woman could not follow directions even when her life actually depended on it.
He suffered through a flashback of the pool party Della had thrown the second he’d left the house. The image of her riding Hollywood Golden Twit like a pony was burned into his brain.
This house didn’t have a pool, and he’d only been gone for twenty minutes.
How the hell did she manage to attract attention in a locked house with no phone in under twenty minutes?
One glance at the shiny, dark red Porsche with vanity plates that read HCQEEN told him exactly who was keeping Della company.
Rachel Parry.
One of five of the current generation of the Parry clan, famed founders of Wires Crossing and the reason the town was even a speck on the map.
Rachel was the most popular girl in school. Head cheerleader. Homecoming queen. Voted the Most Likely to Succeed.
She was also his high-school sweetheart.
It was stupid in hindsight. The quarterback dating the head cheerleader was an old cliché for a reason. Everyone thought they should be together, so they were. It had felt real at the time, but it wasn’t. At best it was convenient. Until it wasn’t.
He regretted the seventeen-year-old hormones that had trapped him in her orbit back then. He regretted them deeply. Especially right now.
He swore as he took the keys out of the ignition. The last thing he needed was Della practicing her new cover story on his ex-girlfriend. Rachel knew him too well, and she was great at sniffing out a lie.
Ward gathered the groceries and carried them in with the intention of ending whatever party was going on as fast as possible.
Female voices wafted down the hallway. They were so involved in their discussion that they didn’t hear him close the door.
He put the crinkling sacks down on the entry table and moved silently closer to the conversation.
“Well, I knew right then that Donny was the one for me,” Della said, her voice bubbling with amusement.
He cringed at her use of the nickname Rachel had given him their freshman year. He’d hated it then. He loathed it now.
At least Della was sticking to their cover story.
His impression of her inched up a little. She’d let people in, but she hadn’t blown anything. Yet.
He thought he detected two separate feminine laughs in response. In high school, Rachel never went anywhere without her constant sidekick, Gretchen.
Gretchen had worn Rachel’s popularity like a sweater.
“I can’t believe Donovan actually fought over you. That’s just…” He’d know Rachel’s haughty tone anywhere.
“Men,” Gretchen said. “They never really grow up, do they.”
“Don’t be like that,” Rachel said. “I remember him being plenty grown-up when we dated.”
Her tone carried a lot of innuendo and implications, most of which were true.
Flashbacks of nights in the back of his truck raced through his head. The heady rush of having a naked woman in his arms made him feel like he was king of the whole damn world.
He’d felt invincible.
Until he didn’t.
Rachel hadn’t called after he’d shipped out. Not once. She hadn’t made any effort to get in touch at any point when he’d come back for holidays over the years. Not since she married the guy who’d replaced him at quarterback.
So why had she rushed over the second he was back in town tonight?
She had an agenda. She always did.
He’d been too blind to see it back then, but he sure as hell saw it now.
“You know,” Della said, “Donny seems so bitter and standoffish on the surface, but he’s such a softie once you get to know him. He’s like…like dark chocolate wrapped around a marshmallow.”
“Marshmallow?” Gretchen choked on the word.
“What makes you think he’s bitter?” Rachel’s voice took on an edge of ice.
“Oh, bitter’s probably a strong word,” Della said. “Brooding is better. My wa—I mean, Donny is always ready for something…you know, to go wrong.”
If Della kept talking, their cover would be blown in less than three seconds. Ward stepped into the kitchen.
Della stood near trays of brownies and cookies one one side of the island, while Rachel and Gretchen perched on the stools on the other.
There were glasses of water and plates set up like they were having a garden party.
“Lucy.”
Three heads swiveled in his direction. They stared at him in stunned silence for a fraction of a second before all three women exploded into noise and movement.
“Hey, Storm.” Gretchen finger waved at him.
Rachel slid off the stool with a smile and slinked toward him. She had the Friday-night-after-the-game-hookup gleam in her eyes. “Donovan!”
“Honey bear!” Della brushed past Rachel and launched herself at him with a little squeal. “You’re home! We were just talking about you.”
He caught her in his arms, then dipped his head as if he was going to kiss her on the cheek. “Lucy, you have some explaining to do,” he growled in her ear.
“They brought brownies,” Della said as if that explained everything. Her eyes glinted with amusement.
He gave her a significant look. “You opened the door for brownies?”
“And cookies.” Della’s smile was stiff, like she’d been wearing it awhile and it was starting to hurt.
“Makes sense.” It felt like he’d stumbled into the middle of a polite girl fight. He had no idea who was winning until Della brushed his lips with hers.
It only lasted a fraction of a second, but it sent a jolt straight to his groin and left him momentarily stunned.
Della’s gaze locked on his. Her mouth was slightly open, and her hand rested on his chest in a gesture that was intimate and familiar. She looked just as shocked as he felt.
Ward shook off the sensation and gently moved her hand away. She hadn’t meant anything by it. She was playacting. That’s what she did. She was a professional entertainer, and she took nothing seriously.
“Donovan.” Rachel’s voice was filled with attitude. “It’s so wonderful to meet your new girlfriend . An actress. How…unlike you.”
The backhanded compliment made his back stiffen. It was designed to get a rise out of Della, and if Rachel kept twisting her little hooks long enough, she could upend the careful charade they’d built.
He put an arm around Della’s shoulders and gave her what he hoped could pass for a loving look. “I’ve always found confidence attractive.”
Della’s eyes narrowed as if she couldn’t quite figure out if he was serious. It passed in a flash, then Della’s face brightened and she leaned her head against his chest. “I told you he was a marshmallow.”
He tried to keep his irritation at that comment off his face, but his arm tightened around her shoulders to let her know exactly what he thought.
Della wiggled a little. Maybe to get away. Maybe to tell him he was squeezing too tight.
He increased the pressure.
Rachel’s smile was the same one she used in her prom photos. It was designed to get everyone to look and admire, but it didn’t light up her eyes. “Yes, you did say that.”
“He’s a tasty treat, all right,” Gretchen quipped.
Rachel frowned at her friend.
Gretchen flushed. “Sorry.”
“You know, Donovan,” Rachel tilted her head thoughtfully, “why don’t we all have lunch tomorrow. I’d love to get to know Lucy better, and I have an idea I think you’re going to like.”
“Sorry, can’t.” Ward shifted toward the door. This conversation needed to end. Yesterday. Any idea Rachel had was sure to be bad. “We just got in.”
Della hugged his arm with both hands as she walked with him down the hall. “Maybe we could get together later in the week. I’ve really been looking forward to meeting Donny’s friends and family. He’s told me so much about you all.”
“Really.” Rachel drew the word out just enough to be obnoxious. “That’s…interesting. He usually won’t talk about family. It’s been a touchy subject for him ever since…well, you know.”
“Know?” Della stopped and turned back to Rachel. “Know what?”
Ward stiffened. This was the conversation he’d been dreading since he’d decided to bring Della to Wires Crossing.
Rachel made an “oh” face. She and Gretchen exchanged glances.
“It’s getting late,” Ward cut in.
“About his mother, of course,” Rachel said. “He doesn’t like to talk about it. Surely, he’s told you. That seems like something he shouldn’t be hiding from someone so…close…to him.”
“Oh…right. Yes, he’s tried to tell me but it’s been a tough subject. As you can imagine.” Della let out a musical little laugh that fooled no one. “I meant…everyone else.”
“Of course you did.” Rachel picked up her keys. “We should get going. I have that early meeting tomorrow.”
“Meeting?” Gretchen looked confused for half a second and then her face cleared. “Oh, the meeting. Sorry, slipped my mind. It was nice to meet you, Lucy.”
“This really made my day,” Della said with the most charming smile he’d ever seen outside of a movie.
Ward inwardly cringed. He’d heard her say that exact phrase in several of the backstage videos. He watched for signs of recognition in Rachel’s face, but she seemed entirely focused on him.
“Will you be around for homecoming?” Rachel asked.
He hoped like hell Della’s stalker was caught well before then. “Not sure.”
“I hope so.” Rachel tossed Della a stiff smile. “I’ll call to set up lunch.”
“Can’t wait.” Della wiggled her fingers as the two women made their exit.
Ward closed and locked the door, then carried the groceries to the kitchen. Della followed, strangely silent.
It lasted about ten seconds.
“When did your mother die?”
Ward put the grocery bags down. He’d known this might happen sooner or later, he’d just hoped they’d find the stalker and get the hell out before it did.
Too late for that.
His throat tightened around the words he wanted to say.
None of your business.
Let ’ s focus on your inability to follow simple instructions.
He didn’t want to have this conversation. Nothing he experienced in the Marines even came close to being as hard as the day he’d watched his mother die.
Nothing ever would.
But for this operation to succeed, she needed the information. And that’s all it was.
Information.
Better he gave her the story straight so she could avoid that landmine in the future, then move the hell on.
He turned to face her like a soldier. “She died when I was seventeen. A stalker ran her off that bridge we crossed on our way into town. She drowned.”
Della sucked in a breath and stared at him.
He waited for her to process. Offer the usual greeting card sentiments like Sorry for your loss and Is there anything I can do .
Or maybe her curiosity would drive her to demand more details about the stalker. It echoed her own situation, which had to be hitting a nerve.
It sure as hell did for him. It was why he ran a security company, and why he’d taken on an obvious pain-in-the-ass celebrity.
No woman deserved to be hunted.
Della watched him. Maybe she was imagining his mother’s wreck, or maybe she was picturing herself being chased.
He cleared his throat to bring her back to the present. “If someone mentions it again…well, now you know.”
Della cast a look toward the living room. “Did she paint the picture over the fireplace?”
“Yes.”
“SRW?”
“Sydney Rogers Ward.”
“Sydney.” She almost whispered the name, which gave it a reverence he hadn’t expected. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
The silence that stretched between them felt almost comfortable.
Della gave herself a little shake. “I…my dad died in a car crash. It’s not the same, I know. It was just a stupid drunk driver, not a stalker. But the how doesn’t really matter, does it. The hurt never quite goes away.”
She turned for the hallway, then paused. “I know I’m probably the last person on the planet you wanted to share that with. Thanks for telling me.”
She padded softly toward the stairs. He watched the empty space where she’d been standing for a long time.
Underneath the shallow showgirl was a woman who inspired insane amounts of loyalty from her family as well as her fans.
He was beginning to see why.
That unnerved him almost as much as the kiss.