Chapter 5 #3
Anger at Deana’s antics has me clenching my glass. Memories that should have stayed locked away. Seeing my brothers happily married pries open the box I’d locked up tight with emotions I don’t want to relive.
If you look up “lying cunt” in the dictionary, I’m positive Deana’s photo accompanies the definition.
She was supposed to be my one, my forever baby girl.
Instead, her submission was a farce. An act.
Lies. A means to get her claws into my family’s fortune.
My first girlfriend. And I was the stupid asshole who believed her, instead of seeing her for what she was.
Thank God I listened to Adrian before I put a ring on her finger.
Rolling my shoulders, I down the last of my bourbon. I’m reaching over the desk to turn off the lamp when my phone vibrates on the desk.
Now what?
When I unlock the screen, I see a new message from my brother.
Flipping the light off, I pick up the empty glass.
I contemplate grabbing my glasses, but I won’t need them tonight.
I only really need them when I’m working or reading on my iPad.
It’s late enough that I doubt I’ll want to do anything but sit on the porch and gaze at the stars.
After double-checking everything is off, I walk toward the kitchen, reading Adrian’s message as I walk.
Adrian: I’m meeting with Andrew. Can you check the driveway feeds? We have an intrusion alert. I can’t tell what’s down there.
We both know that he can check the feeds as easily as I can—we all have them on our phones. Being with Andrew doesn’t make a difference; we get false alerts from wildlife all the time. Rarely do we have anyone show up unexpectedly.
In the kitchen, I rinse the glass and shove it into the dishwasher. Leaning my hip against the island, I answer him. Thankfully, I haven’t left for my cabin, so I won’t have to get dressed again.
Aaron: Sure. I’ll head down and check it out.
I check all the main rooms to make sure no one’s here before walking down the driveway to check for a possible intruder.
Not that I expect to find anyone. The twins and their wives went to their respective cabins after dinner, and Adrian is with Andrew and Jaclyn.
Asher and Emma could be anywhere, but we definitely don’t need to send him; he’ll bite first and ask questions later.
Most of the sky’s earlier color has deepened as dusk slips over the mountain. The gate camera isn’t showing anything. Whatever is there—if anything is there—is out of range. We probably need to look into adding another camera if this continues to happen.
As I make my way down the driveway, there’s nothing suspicious yet.
It feels good to stretch my legs. I really need to get outside more—after I finish this audit—enjoy the mountain.
If he were still here, Dad would lecture me about working too much.
Our parents were all about having work-life balance.
Our driveway is long and winding on purpose. None of the homestead buildings are visible from the front gate. It’s no secret the Gallants like their privacy. The townsfolk are used to our ways.
I’m nearly at the end when I see something.
Not a thing, definitely a someone, and not an animal or a hunter like I was expecting.
A child, maybe? I’m still about a hundred feet away, and they look tiny in the fading light.
Slowing my gait as I approach, I see the moment they notice me as they take a few steps away from the fence.
I don’t want to scare them, but they need to understand this is private property.
There’s no need to frighten them, especially if it’s a child, but they can’t be here, either.
I’m almost at the gate, and even in the dim light I can see it’s an adult.
The trespasser, if we want to call her that, is a short woman with curves to die for, long dark hair, perfect for wrapping around my hand, and I’m guessing pale skin the way it looks in the low light.
She’s wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans and a pink T-shirt.
It says something, but with her hands clasped in front of her, I can’t make it out. And…wait…is that a suitcase?
Stopping at the gate, I see her face clearly—she’s stunning.
Her eyes are dark, like pools of chocolate, and they widen as they roam over my body.
In the muted light, I can’t tell the exact color of her hair as it cascades over her shoulders, but my fingers twitch with the need to slide through the silky tresses.
When our gazes connect, goosebumps rise along my arms, even though the evening is warm, and my breath catches in my throat. Before I can force words out of my dry mouth, she speaks. Her voice is deeper than I expected—sexy and soft—sweeping over me like a gentle breeze.
“Hi. Is this Gallant Mountain?”
It’s crazy, unreal, and exactly how my brothers described their experience when they found their wives. There’s no doubt in my mind: I’m a goner. This woman, who shouldn’t be anywhere near our mountain, is mine!