Chapter 3
Catherine
Being rejected by a reality TV dating show while attending a funeral is definitely rock bottom.
They had been the ones to contact me first, for crying out loud!
I had agreed to go through the casting process after a producer reached out, and I was fully aware that they might portray me as a ditzy pageant princess or the unhinged loose cannon.
I was fine with that.
I could make it work. I just needed a freaking win.
I hid in the shadow of the gargantuan house and stared out at the hazy blue peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains to the east and the looming Allegheny Mountains to the west. The valley felt like it was cut off from the outside world in the best way.
I loved coming to the Wilder Estate. It was the one place where it felt like nothing could touch me. I was at home among the mountains, concealed within their majesty.
Voices carried from the rose garden as people milled about, waiting for lunch to be served. I pressed my back to the side of the house and closed my eyes, letting out a slow exhale.
I would figure this out. I have to figure this out.
The patronizing voice of the casting associate who had been tasked with calling me today played in a loop in my head.
“We’ve decided to go in a different direction” is the worst thing to tell someone. It’s equivalent to “It’s not us; it’s you.”
I had media training! I was outgoing! Sure, I came in third for the national title, but I was Miss Virginia, dammit! I even had a tragic backstory! I was a shoo-in for being reality TV gold.
Different direction, my ass.
Of course that lovely call came in the middle of Walt’s funeral. Hayes’s searing gaze had felt like a brand.
Then we spoke, and I saw those captivating eyes of his again.
I had always harbored an innocent little crush on Hayes Wilder. He was ten years older than me, so even though we knew each other, we never ran in the same circles or crossed paths, apart from when I came to the estate.
Still, my seven-year-old heart had done little pitter pats whenever I saw seventeen-year-old Hayes around the property. He had been my very first crush, and apparently those innocent feelings hadn’t gone away.
The man was fine.
My god, it should have been criminal to look that attractive at a family member’s funeral. It was like being attractive in your passport photo or while standing in line at the DMV.
His driver’s license was probably magazine-worthy.
But there he was in a tailored suit, designer shades, and shoes that probably cost more than my car. His jawline was as sharp as his gaze.
“Hiding?”
I jumped at the sound of Hallie’s voice and clasped my hand to my chest. “Jeez. You scared me.”
Hallie slipped out the side door that led in and out of the kitchen and stood beside me. She closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath. “I’m ready for today to be over.”
“That makes two of us.”
We stood in silence, hiding from the mayhem. I looked down at my feet and realized I was standing on a cluster of small blue flowers.
Great. Walt loved his flowers, and I was trampling all over them on the day of his funeral.
“Where’s Zach?” I asked.
“Hiding in his room,” Hallie said. “He refuses to come out when people are over.” She sighed. “Hell, he refuses to come out when the house is empty.”
“Hopefully, things will settle down once lunch is over.”
“I can’t fucking wait,” she muttered.
A resounding boom carried from the house. Hallie and I peered around the corner, watching as Lewis, Hayes’s half brother, stormed out the front door.
That door was solid wood and weighed something like five hundred pounds. Anyone familiar with the estate used the side entrance.
For him to have been able to slam the door, he must have been pissed.
“What’s that about?” I asked.
Hallie eyed Lewis with a bemused expression as he stomped like a petulant child.
“Hayes and Lewis met with Walt’s attorney to go through the will,” Hallie said.
“I’ll take a wild guess and say that it didn’t go well.”
“Nothing ever goes well when Lewis is involved,” she muttered.
I didn’t know much about Lewis Halstead, just the town gossip that Hayes’s father had a brief college fling that resulted in Lewis.
They had never married. Hayes’s father met his mother a few years later, while Lewis’s mother had married a different man and moved across the country with her son and new husband.
Walt had always spoken kindly of Lewis and often told me how he invited Lewis to stay at the estate whenever he pleased, though Lewis rarely did.
I used to run into Lewis on rare occasions, but he paid me no mind, and I generally avoided him.
“Do you know who’s running the foundation these days?” I asked while we watched Lewis throw a legendary, profanity-riddled temper tantrum as he pressed his phone to his ear and screamed at some unfortunate soul.
“No. Walt was still overseeing it until he passed, though I think the board did most of the big-picture stuff. I’m not sure who will take it over.” Her gaze cut to me. “Still job hunting?”
“Trying to, along with everything else going on,” I grumbled.
“I’ve got the organization breathing down my neck about my social initiative and a sickly savings account.
” I smoothed down the front of my dress.
“I reached out to the Wilder Foundation a few months ago about a grant for the initiative, but I never heard anything back.”
Hallie lifted an eyebrow. “Did you ask Walt? He would’ve written you a check himself.”
I shook my head. “He had just had another stroke, and I didn’t want a handout.”
She nodded in understanding, then glanced at her watch and pushed away from the wall to head back inside. “I need to get this show on the road.”
Hallie jogged up the two short stairs and slipped into the kitchen, but I decided to wait a few more minutes before joining the luncheon crowd.
In the distance, Mason Bishop and Levi Caldwell lingered outside the stables.
I was half tempted to join them, but there were deep pockets inside that I needed to schmooze.
The moment I opened the door to the kitchen, I ran smack-dab into a black suit that was laced with something that smelled divinely expensive…and a little like a horse.
I looked up and found Hayes staring down at me. That sharp gaze was filled with fury and frustration. But the moment our eyes locked, his stormy eyes settled into gloomy grays.
“Sorry,” I blurted out as I backed away so he could step out of the doorway. I stumbled, stepping on the little blue flowers again. “Shit.”
Hayes sauntered down the stairs and took up the spot against the white brick that I had just vacated. He leaned against the house and closed his eyes. “Just need a minute.”
I glanced through the door into the kitchen and across to the formal dining room where twenty bodies sat around a mile-long table. “Need me to get rid of everyone? Apparently, making a scene is one of my special skills.”
Hayes cracked a smile as he let out a single-beat chuckle. It was more of a breath, but I counted it as a laugh.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked. The poor guy looked like he was buckling beneath the stress of the day. I knew that feeling all too well.
He peered out of one eye. “Do you know where Hallie hides her whiskey?”
“Let me guess, she let you take a shot and then hid the bottle somewhere new?”
He closed his eyes and exhaled. “It was just a sip.”
“Knowing her, you’ll never find it.”
Hayes groaned.
“I’m going to head inside,” I said. “Take your time. I’ll keep the table from mutiny until you come in.”
He tilted his head to the side, resting his temple against the brick. “You sure?”
I flashed a smile and brushed my hair over my shoulder. “Handling a table of fake mourners is a piece of cake. I’ve got this in the bag. Some have even called me charming.”
Lines, graceful like the mountain ridges, formed along the corners of his eyes, though his lips barely lifted. “Thanks.”
“See you in a bit,” I said as I started up the two steps that led inside.
“Cath,” he said when my foot hit the top step.
I paused and looked over my shoulder.
Those devastating eyes were softer now as they looked up at me. “I mean it. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course. Anything for your granddad.”
—
Hayes slipped into the dining room a few minutes after I had taken an empty seat to the right of the head of the table. As soon as he took his place at the top of the long mahogany table, the rest of the guests settled while servers swarmed with plates of salad.
The crisp red edge of the late-spring radishes and bright leafy greens were far too cheery for the occasion.
I watched Hayes out of the corner of my eye as he lifted his fork and took the inaugural bite to signal to the rest of the table that it was time to eat, but that one nibble was all he could muster.
When all the surrounding eyes were turned away, I reached over and quickly swapped my nearly empty plate with Hayes’s, making it look like he had eaten more than he had.
It took him a moment, blinking as he comprehended what I had done.
I lifted my linen napkin, pretending to dab my lips while I whispered, “It’s hard to eat when you feel like you’re dying too.”
Hayes stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”
I reached for him and laid my hand on his forearm. “It’ll get better someday. Today is not going to be that day. And that’s okay.”
Hayes laid his hand on mine, trapping it against his arm. “Thank you.”
The earth-shattering slam of the front door broke the sanctity of the moment, but Hayes didn’t flinch as Lewis came storming through in a whirlwind of obvious disdain.
Lewis paused as he cut through the dining room, locking his beady eyes on where Hayes held my hand like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.
Instead of pulling away, Hayes’s long fingers curled around mine, pressing into my palm. Without a word, Lewis sneered in disgust and headed up to the second floor. The servers reappeared to clear the plates and serve the next course, but Hayes never let go of my hand.