Читать книгу Credible Alibi - Tyler Anne Snell - Страница 11

Julian Mercer didn’t know this woman from Eve and yet he knew exactly three things about her the moment her baby blues swung his way.

One, she was hanging on to something that was heavy. As she made her way across the yard, following a path of mismatched stones embedded in the earth, there was an almost imperceptible drag to each step. Like there was an invisible weight on each shoulder that threw off a normal, happy gait. She was thinking of something and that something was difficult, whatever it was. Her polite, welcoming smile, which was required as the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, even had a tightness about it.

Two, someone or something had hurt her. Not just physically—though Julian clocked the small but noticeable scar that broke the smoothness of her skin above the left cheekbone. In addition to the subtle, weighted steps she took toward him, there was a hesitation. So small, yet he was as sure as his own scars lining his body that it was there. It was like she wanted to meet him but at the same time wanted nothing more than for him to leave. Halfway between fight and flight. It intrigued and perturbed Julian all at once.

And that third thing he knew about the golden-haired stranger making her way toward him?

She was beautiful.

Long braids thrown over each shoulder shone in the Tennessee sun and complemented a complexion formed by a life out in the elements instead of tucked in front of electronic screens. Crystal-blue irises took him in as his gaze dropped to the freckles dusting her cheeks. Those freckles, he had no doubt, probably made several other appearances across the skin of her arms and legs as well, but for now were hidden beneath a long-sleeved dress and a pair of black tights. It was a modest outfit, yet Julian didn’t miss the pleasant curves beneath the clinging fabric. She wore flats but only had to tilt her head up a fraction to see into his eyes as she came to a stop in front of him.

“Well, you sure are punctual, aren’t you, Mr. Mercer?” She held out her hand.

He shook it. “Is that a problem?”

“Absolutely not.” Her polite smile stayed just as polite. “It’s just not that common around here. Most guests end up stopping along the road to take pictures. One time a couple showed up an hour late because they spotted a black bear hanging out in a tree.” She glanced down at her watch. It was one of those smart watches made for exercise. The time popped up on the screen as she moved her wrist slightly. “You said you were going to be here at eleven on the dot and here you are.”

“You can thank my military training for that,” he said with a wry smile. “I don’t think I could be late for something if I wanted to.”

She laughed. Julian made sure not to trace the scar against her cheek with his eyes again.

“Well, either way, I’m happy you made it.” She angled her body and spread her arms wide toward the house. “I’m Madeline Nash, and this is the Hidden Hills Inn.”

The bed-and-breakfast was aptly named. Near the heart of the very small town of Overlook, Tennessee, the road to the inn wound its way through fields, forests and hills. Mountains crested in the distance. No sound of cars or city life broke through them or the land they were boxing in. Julian had gone from big-city Tennessee to small-town Tennessee to this rural beauty. The inn was in the center of it all yet felt a world away from everything else.

Julian appreciated the quiet, just as he did the privacy.

“Let’s get you all signed in and then we can start the tour,” Madeline continued. He followed her up to the long covered porch. She paused before opening the front door. “I’m sorry but it wasn’t clear on the phone, are you expecting to meet someone here or are you traveling alone?”

“It’s just me. I’m alone.”

Madeline kept smiling. Customer service was in her wheelhouse and it showed. She kept to small talk without it ever feeling like small talk. After Julian signed in, she took him on a tour of the wide two-story house with all the best efforts of a seasoned host. From the common rooms to the private suites to the small bar that made up the surprisingly comfortable lounge at the back of the house, Madeline Nash made every space interesting and somehow intimate.

When the tour concluded at the bottom of one of the two sets of stairs the house offered, his golden-haired tour guide fixed him with a grin.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, already taking a step back. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call the number on the card in your room. Breakfast and dinner are served every morning and night at seven. There’s a list of activities and sights you might consider during your stay in a packet on your bed.”

Julian had a flash of impulsive bravado. He almost asked the innkeeper if she ever considered accompanying guests to those sights and activities when a car door slammed outside. They both turned to the entryway window. A man with dark hair and a cowboy hat started up the walkway.

Madeline didn’t say it out loud but she wasn’t happy to see him. Her already-tense body tightened. Yet her smile stayed where it was.

“Again, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Julian tipped his head in acknowledgment as Madeline left through the front door, greeting the man. Instead of coming inside, they moved across the yard and disappeared from view. A part of Julian wanted to follow, to make sure she was okay, but then his senses came back.

He didn’t know Madeline and thinking he had to protect her was foolish. His mother would have scolded him for his presumptions that the innkeeper was some kind of hurt, damaged woman in need of saving. For cripes’ sake, he’d only just met her.

Julian knew from experience that there were more people walking the earth with scars than with smooth, untouched skin. That didn’t mean he had to try to save them all.

That didn’t mean they needed saving in the first place.

First impressions were tricky like that.

The first smile was easy.

It was everything after that got a little murky when trying to decipher them.

His room was in the far corner of the second-floor landing. It was a big difference from the hotel rooms he’d been frequenting and, if he was being honest, the apartment he’d been living in the last several years. The room was spacious and stretched much wider than he thought was possible. Not only was there a king-size bed, there was an adjoining sitting area and a desk and a three-piece bathroom. He was surprised and happy to note that the showerhead was high enough to allow him to stand up straight beneath it, a luxury his apartment had never afforded him. In his Special Forces unit he’d been known as the Lumberjack. It wasn’t that inventive of a nickname but it was apt. Julian was built tall, wide and muscled like his father before him. Most times it translated into unintentional intimidation. Other times it meant he had to hunch over in the shower.

Julian threw his bag down just as his phone started to ring.

The caller ID read Chance Montgomery.

“Mercer,” Julian greeted. He walked to one of the windows that ran along the room and looked through the blinds. He spotted Madeline at the table where she’d been sitting when he’d pulled up earlier. Her male companion stood across from her. Julian couldn’t get a read off of him.

“You know, we’ve been friends for a few years now,” Chance said in his Southern twang. “Answering with a ‘hello’ or even a ‘howdy’ instead of your last name would make our conversations a little more casual and a little less like I’ve just accidentally called my old high school math teacher and she’s still mad about the gum I put on her chair that one time.”

Julian chuckled.

“Old habits die hard,” he responded, actively loosening his shoulders by rolling them. “Brevity and precision have been my friends in the military for a while now.”

“Luckily for you, the private sector has a lot fewer friends.” He paused and then laughed. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“It means I need to say ‘howdy’ apparently.”

Chance laughed again.

“You can’t see it but I’m giving you a type of salute you also wouldn’t find in the military. It has to do something with a certain finger.”

They joked around for a few more minutes before Chance finally circled back to the reason for the call. Julian didn’t mind the chatter; in fact, it was one of the reasons he was headed to Chance’s workplace in Alabama. Chance, a cowboy by upbringing but, lately, a surprisingly skilled bodyguard, was one of the few civilian friends Julian had kept through his marine service over the last ten years. Julian not only liked him but was confident he could work alongside him, which was why he was interviewing at the private protection firm Chance’s uncle owned.

“I just wanted to make sure you were stopping to smell the roses in Overlook and not rushing here,” Chance said, losing his earlier humor. “The interview isn’t until next week and as long as I’ve known you, you haven’t had a vacation, one that actually counted. So I’ll reiterate one more time and then let it go. Enjoy yourself, go watch a sunset, sleep in, buy a lady a drink. You’ll thank me for that advice when you’re out in Germany away from all the Southern hospitality you’ve been hitting on your way here.”

Julian knew Chance was right. His last deployment before he officially left the military started the week after his interview. Then he would hopefully return to Alabama and finally, finally stay put for a while.

“I’ll make sure to smell the roses,” Julian promised. “I’m here for two days and then on to Nashville for the next three. I should be at your place after that.”

Chance must have thought this was acceptable. He ended the call without any more constructive criticism. Julian stayed at his spot by the window, admiring the curve of the mountain in the distance. Then his gaze dropped to the innkeeper.

Two days here and then he’d be one step closer to a new life.

* * *

“I’M NOT TRYING to destroy the family, Des.”

Madeline Nash watched as her brother tried to save face moments after showing his backside. He took his dark gray Stetson, pressed it against his thigh and blew out a sigh she recognized as frustration.

“I didn’t say that and you know it.”

Madi pulled out her long braids, tamed the waves with her fingers and then sectioned her hair again. She separated it into three parts. Ever since she was a little girl she did what her eldest brother, Declan, had dubbed “angry-braiding.” It wasn’t like she could correct him. The evidence throughout her thirty years of life was fairly damning. Every scowl or frown captured in photographs or home movies was accompanied by long braids down her back or across her shoulders.

Some people counted to ten to cool off; she made her hair more manageable.

“You didn’t have to say the words, Des. You gave me that look and then that tone. Don’t for a minute deny it, either. Even outside our triplet telepathy I know your moods.”

Desmond rolled his eyes. It was his trademark move for their disagreements.

“All I asked was if you had been to the ranch lately,” Des countered. “I didn’t suggest you were destroying anything, let alone our family.”

Madi tried not to let the guilt move into her gut again. Instead she channeled her irritation. Her hands went across her chest and her chin rose a fraction.

“And why would you ask that? You’ve never asked about me going to the ranch before.”

“Because up until three months ago, you lived on that ranch.”

If Desmond had been anyone else, Madi would have blushed at how childish she knew she sounded. But he was her brother. So she huffed and pretended there was nothing wrong with what she’d just said. She finished the braid over her left shoulder, then looked at anything but him.

“For your information, I had lunch with Ma and Nina a few weeks ago and it was lovely.”

Desmond gave her a pointed stare.

“And was that at the ranch or in town?”

It was Madi’s turn to roll her eyes. It didn’t matter that she was an adult who had opened and currently ran her own business; Desmond still found a way to make her feel like she was a child again. A child who was perpetually in need of a guide to help her through the life he thought she should be living. It was at all times frustrating; seldom was it touching. In those few instances, a voice deep inside Madi would remind her why Desmond was protective of her more than he was with her brothers.

Now wasn’t that time.

“You’re making it sound like I’ve abandoned my family,” she said. “As you said yourself, I’ve lived on that ranch for basically all of my life. I don’t have to set foot on the property every day, you know.”

Des rolled his eyes again. They were bright and ever-changing blue, just like hers and Caleb’s. Madi felt another jab of guilt looking into them. He’d been the first person she’d told about her dream of running a bed-and-breakfast and the first person who had encouraged her to follow that dream when the old Richman house had gone up for sale.

Even now, after her childishness, he kept to the high road.

“I’m not saying you are obligated to check in. You don’t have to go to the ranch at all, but you need to at least own up to the reason why you’re currently not making any appearances there.” His expression softened. “You’re avoiding Mom and you know it.”

Madi did know it but she didn’t dare admit it. Thankfully, she didn’t have to find a way to avoid the truth he was pointing out to her a moment longer. Like she knew his moods, she had to concede that he knew hers. Des took his cue to leave with grace. He walked around the table, gave her a kiss on the forehead and smiled. Then on went the Stetson.

“I really am proud of what you’ve done here, Madi. So are Mom and the others. Give them a chance to prove it to you.”

Madi watched him leave without another word.

In the small town of Overlook, Tennessee, there were no hotels or motels. If you wanted a place to lay your head, then you’d have to leave town limits to get it. The Hidden Hills Inn was Overlook’s quick and easy option for tourists who’d rather not bust their budgets by trying to rent one of the few cabins deeper in the forest and near the mountains. Or at the Wild Iris Retreat.

There was that flare of guilt again.

Her family owned the retreat. One Madi had left to open her own version of a hotel.

They’re different, she reminded herself. The retreat was for guests seeking an authentic experience of living on a ranch and staying on the land. Hidden Hills was just a cozy, less expensive place to spend a night or two. I’m not stealing anyone from Mom! They have more business than I do!

Someone cleared their throat behind her. Madi jumped clear out of her seat.

“Whoa there!” Julian had his hands out as if he could steady her despite the distance between them. “Sorry! I thought you heard me.”

Madi put her palm against her chest and gave him an embarrassed smile.

“No worries. I was just stuck in my own head.” She motioned to the road that Des had just driven away on. “My brother has a habit of making me think too hard.”

Julian took the joke with a good laugh and what almost looked like a dose of relief. Though maybe that was a touch of wishful thinking on Madi’s part. There was no denying Julian Mercer was a handsome man. His hair was as black as night and cropped close, neat. His eyes were dark, too, but held a softness to them as they moved to hers. While he was a tall, obviously muscled man, the sharp angles of his nose and jaw were an elegant kind of ruggedness. Madi placed his age around her own and noted on reflex that his ring finger was very much bare.

“Family has a funny way of doing that, don’t they?”

Madi nodded. Heat surprised her by moving up to her cheeks beneath the man’s dark gaze. It inspired an offer she didn’t have time to think about before saying.

“Would you like to join me, Mr. Mercer?” She waved to the table behind her; the lemonade pitcher on its surface had more than enough for two more glasses left in it. “Unless you would prefer to be alone, which is absolutely fine.”

The man’s smile only stretched.

“You can call me Julian,” he said, moving around her to the other chair. Its dainty size made him look even more rugged and muscled. Still, there was a softness to his eyes. One that, despite herself, intrigued Madi.

“And you can call me Madi. Madeline was my grandmother.”

Julian nodded and watched politely as she flipped a cup right side up from the serving tray and filled it. He chuckled before taking a drink.

“What’s so funny?”

“My friend just told me I need to learn how to enjoy myself more. One thing he suggested?” He tipped his glass toward her. “Buy a lady a drink. I was wondering if this counts?”

The heat in her face started to travel south, propelled by the glint in his eye. Madi knew it was probably just her imagination and yet...

“I wouldn’t say that it doesn’t.”

Julian’s eyebrow arched but his smile stayed.

“I can work with that.”

They lapsed into a pleasant conversation. It stretched into a walk along one of the trails. Then that became dinner. A proper drink came after.

Madi was too wrapped up in the unexpected great time to notice that the figure out in the woods that night wasn’t just a shadow between the trees. It was a man.

Watching.

Waiting.