Coming Home

  “I’ll see you soon.” He turned and headed out down the steps. Before the door clicked behind him, he muttered into his phone to Dugan that he was ready.

  She turned and pressed her head into the wall. Her brain was too tired to think.

  Chapter 7

  A Picture’s Worth a Thousand Pains

  Scout dragged the order across the scanner as the woman in line chatted about the weather. The steady blip of merchandise being tallied had become the symphony of her days over the past few weeks of working at Clemons.

  It had been a week since she’d seen or heard from Lucian. He’d gotten the last word and was now giving her space. The evening after he came to her apartment, a package arrived with a new phone. The note attached was simple and to the point. Now you can call.

  He just couldn’t let her get her own damn phone. In a way it pleased her that he’d gone against her wishes because now she had his number again, but it still pissed her off.

  She couldn’t make sense of her feelings anymore. Space was good, but the more time that passed the more she missed him. Missing him was dangerous, so she embraced his absence like a vaccine, accepting it was part of the healing process. Sooner or later it had to stop grating on her. Did all women feel so irrational? She didn’t like it, yet couldn’t seem to control her tumultuous emotions.

  “Oh, I have a coupon for that, dearie.”

  “Okay,” Scout said as she continued to ring up and bag the order.

  She slid a few birthday cards over the scanner, and her hand stilled when she reached for the tabloid crossing the belt. Her brain froze. With numb fingers, she lifted the magazine and stared dumbly at the picture on the front. Lucian wore an expression of disinterest as a woman laughed beside him, her arm looped affectionately through his, her palm pressing into his shoulder.

  “The price is on the back, dear. And here’s that coupon.”

  Scout blinked at the woman waiting to be rung out. Nodding, she turned the tabloid and scanned the price. Her numb hands bagged up the order as quickly as possible and, once her line was empty, she shut out her light.

  Her feet carried her to the display where all the magazines were exhibited. She quickly found the one with Lucian on the front. Her stomach knotted until she could barely breathe. The woman was stunning, blond, and nothing like Scout.

  Running her finger down the words spread all over the cover, she scanned for the name Lucian or Patras, two words she could immediately recognize. She found the name Patras and tracked the sentence following it.

  “New whoa-man in . . .” There was a long word that started with a b, which she didn’t have a shot in hell at sounding out. Shaking her head in frustration, she followed the words until she found a number that was likely the page the article was featured on.

  She turned to page four and her knees shook. There were more pictures. Lucian leaning close as Satan’s whore whispered in his ear. Lucian helping the blond jezebel with her wrap. Lucian staring at the camera as he held the door for the fucking tramp!

  Scout growled and threw the paper on the belt at her register.

  “You all right over there, tiger?”

  She looked at Nick. He could read. Snatching up the tabloid, she marched over to his register and waited as he handed his customer the change. Once the customer left he turned to her. “What’s up, Ev?”

  “Can you read this?”

  “Uh, yeah, but I’d rather not. I don’t really care who found Elvis and what the latest crop circle design is.”

  “No, just this article.”

  “Um, okay. Why?”

  She glanced around anxiously and leaned over his bagging station and whispered, “I can’t read very well.” Interesting that her curiosity outweighed her pride. More irrational behavior she couldn’t make sense of. What was happening to her?

  He tipped his head back as though he prepared to laugh like she were joking, but her desperation must’ve showed in her expression, telling him she was quite serious. “For real?”

  “Yes. Please don’t say anything. I can read small words, but not a whole article.”

  “Okay,” he said, calmly taking the magazine. “But why this article? Why not read something with substance?”

  She stabbed her finger at the picture. “I know him.”

  “Lucian Patras?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises.”

  Scout glanced at their empty lines, knowing they didn’t have much time. “Will you please read it to me?”

  He nodded and folded the paper open. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “New Woman in Billionaire Patras’ Love Life. Lucian Patras was spotted attending a swanky private event with a new bombshell on his arm. Admirers are wondering what happened to the mysterious brunette he attended many affairs with this past winter, but are also pleased to see he’s paired up with Nicole Nottingham, young heiress of Nottingham Cosmetics and budding actress. Although Patras would not offer any comment as to what happened to the blue-eyed brunette he’d spent the winter beside, sources say the couple called it quits some time last April, just before Patras was spotted doing business at his hotel in Paris, France.

  “When Nottingham was asked if she and Patras were an item, she giggled and said, ‘Depends how you define the word.’ She then fled into a private benefit with the man in question. Followers are wondering if this one will be The One. The Annual Rose Bowl Charity event takes place this coming Saturday, and enthusiasts are anxious to see if Nottingham will again be on the arm of Folsom’s most eligible bachelor. The event is open to the public and tickets are five hundred dollars a plate. Tickets can be purchased at . . .

  “It just goes on to tell you where to buy the tickets,” Nick commented.

  Scout was going to be sick. That son of a bitch!

  You asked for this!

  Her mind took offense to the bitter swirl of jealousy souring her stomach and burning her heart. She’d pushed him away, made him leave and he’d done exactly what any man would do. What made her so special to assume she deserved more?

  Love.

  She loved him and he was supposed to love her, but he was moving on. Outrage had her trembling. What if she’d truly pushed him away for good? The idea of a life without Lucian was too empty to contemplate. She realized that in the back of her mind she’d always assumed they’d get past this. But how?

  She was going crazy. One minute she hated him. One minute she wanted him. The only constant emotion that wouldn’t go away was the fact she still loved him. She searched her mind for some stable thought, but her head was a mess.

  “Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.”

  She shook her head, afraid if she spoke she’d puke. Snatching the tabloid, she marched it back to the rack and stuck it with the other rags. Her stiff body slipped back into the space behind her register and she tapped her foot.

  He’d betrayed her. She deserved time to cope with her emotions, figure a way to make sense of them. The urgency now suffocating her only complicated matters more. Would she ever think clearly again? Apparently the answer was no, because she was about to do something incredibly stupid.

  “Uh, Ev? You gonna be okay?”

  Her gaze snapped to Nick. “You’re single, right?”

  “Last I checked.”

  “What are you doing this Saturday?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “Will you go with me to that function?”

  His eyes bulged. “It’s five hundred a plate, Ev!”

  “I’ll pay for everything. I’ll even rent you a tux if you don’t have one.”

  “Where the hell are you gonna get that kind of money?”

  She laughed dryly. “Mr. Lucian Patras himself will sponsor our date.”

  He hesitated, seeming reluctant to agree. “What’s your relations
hip to that guy? Isn’t he a lot older than you?”

  “He’s not that much older and I just . . . know him, okay? Will you go? There will be good food and probably an open bar.”

  “I guess, but I’m not sure if we’ll fit in. People like us don’t mix with people like Nicole Nottingham and Lucian Patras.”

  “Ugh. That woman is a skank!”

  Nick held up his palms. “Okay. She’s a skank.”

  “Sorry. I’m just . . .” What was she? What was she doing even thinking about going to that function? She didn’t even know what a Rose Bowl was.

  She sighed. This was probably a really bad idea, but after she last saw Lucian, she’d been softening. This was good. This showed her exactly why she couldn’t trust him.

  A war of indignation and jealousy battled inside of her. There was a point to be made, but she couldn’t predict which point it would be—that she still wanted him or that he didn’t deserve her. Hurt and anger were both unwelcome, but seemed all she had in that moment.

  He could take his new phone and sweet words and tell them to someone else. She was going to catch him right in the act with that blond trollop and then what excuses would he have?

  Slut!

  ***

  Scout sighed as she glanced in the mirror. Her stupid plan had cost her almost fifteen hundred dollars. Why had she ever agreed to do this?

  She’d blown her hair out and left it wild, giving her that freshly fucked look. Her eyes were lined with kohl, making the crystal blue of her irises pop dramatically. She wasn’t good at makeup, but refused to visit Patras to ask the girls at the salon for help. She wanted to catch Lucian completely off guard, and someone might’ve seen her if she went to the hotel.

  Her dress was a find. It was nothing like the gowns Lucian had bought her. This was made of slinky black material that fit her hips like a second skin and only reached the middle of her thighs. The top of the dress was loose, hanging in a gathered halter that covered her breasts and drooped almost to her navel. A thin rhinestone chain linked the material at her cleavage. She wore nothing underneath, as even the tiniest G-string would show, and the back of the dress was completely bare to her hips.

  Her shoes cost three times as much as the dress. They were strappy black satin with a rhinestone buckle at the ankle. She wished she had a full-length mirror to see if she looked as much like a horse’s ass as she felt, but she didn’t. She’d just have to wait and see Nick’s reaction when he came to pick her up.

  As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Scout grabbed the little purse thingie the girl at the shoe store suggested she buy, and wedged her phone and keys inside. She’d already stuffed it with enough money for the evening and the tickets for the event.

  “Coming!”

  Shutting off the lights, she carefully took the stairs, very mindful of her shoes’ ability to kill her. She hated high heels, but these babies were serving a purpose. Reaching the bottom, she unlocked the door and pulled it wide. “Ready?”

  Nick looked quite debonair in his black tie. His hair was freshly cut and his tailored tux fit him to perfection. Her gaze traveled from his shiny patent leather shoes to his face. His mouth hung wide as he stared back at her.

  She drew in a breath, incredibly self-conscious. “What? Is this too much? Should I try to find something else?” Not that she had anything else. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

  “Ev, you look . . .” He swallowed. His voice was a mere rasp. “Wow. I mean, wow!”

  “Yeah?”

  He shifted and stood a little taller. Tugging the lapels of his tux, he held out his arm. “Your chariot awaits.” She smiled and took his arm.

  Nick drove a well-loved S10 truck of the ugly duckling sort. It was a loud and bumpy ride to the Marion, the hall hosting the Rose Bowl, but Scout didn’t mind. She was just glad he’d agreed to go.

  When they arrived, there was a parking attendant ushering a long line of luxury vehicles down the sectioned-off shoulder of the road as valets relieved drivers of their keys. Scout withdrew into herself a bit when she noticed most females were dressed in long, flowing gowns. She glanced at her exposed knees and became very aware of the sharp angle of her bare shoulders on display.

  She swallowed. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this?”

  Nick glanced at her, then back out the windshield as the line eased forward. “What are you talking about? We’re all gussied up and you spent a ton on the tickets. Might as well have fun.”

  Her fingers fidgeted with the billowy material barely concealing her breasts. Never before had she dealt with jealousy. That’s what this was: pure, stupid jealousy because Lucian was moving on just like she told him to do.

  Disappointment in her actions made her feel even smaller. She didn’t deserve to go to a function like this and that money should’ve gone toward more important things. None of this was part of her well-thought-out plan.

  “Do I just give them the key? Do I need to tip or is that later? This is nicer than my prom was. Holy shit, is that Harvey Geswaldi?”

  Scout glanced out the window at the tall man Nick was asking about. She had no idea who Harvey Geswaldi was, and Dugan always drove them so she didn’t know what the parking protocol was. “I don’t know.”

  “Hey.”

  She turned to Nick and found him studying her, a slight kink to his brow. Her lungs drew in a deep breath.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m regretting my decision to come here.”

  His expression blanked. “Because of me?”

  “No, God no. I just . . .” She sighed. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Always.”

  “I wanted to come to make someone jealous.”

  His assessing gaze traveled from her knees, up her thighs, over her unsupported, barely covered breasts, to her face. “Is it Patras?”

  “Yeah. Stupid, I know. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb and he’ll be so preoccupied with his stupid little actress he won’t even see me.”

  His frown reappeared. “First of all, Ev, you can’t go by the tabloids. Second, have you seen your reflection? You look crazy good, but not only tonight. You’re really pretty every day. Everyone in there with working male anatomy and heterosexual thoughts will notice you. And third, you’re fun. That Nicole chick can’t compete.”

  Scout smiled at his attempt to cheer her, wishing his words could actually calm her nerves. “Lucian’s in his thirties. She’s more his age.”

  “You call him by his first name? Wow, you really did meet him, didn’t you?”

  Oh, she’d done more than meet him. “I know him well. We sort of had a disagreement.”

  It was Nick’s turn to look nervous. “Did you two hook up or something? He’s not gonna come after me for showing up here with you, right?”

  “No. Lucian always handles himself with class.” Except with Parker, and surely that was an exception. She hoped she was telling the truth and that the sophistication of the event would prevent any unwanted scenes. “Besides, he probably won’t even notice I’m there.”

  Nick smiled. “Well, don’t let age throw your confidence. It’s just a number.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You want to make him see what he gave up? Okay, we’ll put on a nice little show. Come on, let’s get you a drink and have some fun. We’ll pretend we’re rich folk for the night.”

  The attendants opened the doors and they were assisted out of the truck. Nick handed over his keys and was given a small white ticket, which he stashed in the breast pocket of his tux.

  Someone held the door as they stepped over the threshold, and a throng of guests checking their bags and wraps immediately surrounded them.

  “Do you want to check your bag?”

  Scout looked at her petite clutch and shook her head. She was territorial when it came to her stuff, and
she didn’t want to hinder a fast escape.

  Nick took her arm and guided them away from the congested area. She scanned the crowd, and her stomach bottomed out when her gaze settled on Lucian’s tall form. He looked impeccable in his tuxedo.

  His dark hair was slicked back naturally like a model lifting out of a swimming pool during a cover shoot. The romantic lighting showed his distinguished, if premature, salt-and-pepper temples, and he had just the right amount of shadow lining his jaw to give him that dangerous tycoon look. He grinned as someone spoke to him.

  His tall body was easy to separate from the rest. Broad shoulders filled his jacket and, as her gaze traveled over him, the blond woman beside him distracted her. Nicole Nottingham wore a sequined red gown that displayed her lithe body with an air of class Scout couldn’t muster.

  A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne flutes and she snatched one, guzzling down the bubbly liquid fast. Her mouth was incredibly dry. She stashed the empty flute on a mantel to their left and stared as Lucian dismissed the person he was speaking with. He nonchalantly pressed his palm to Nottingham’s bare back—which felt like a punch to Scout’s stomach—and ushered her into the ballroom. Something about the casualness of his touch made it all the more painful to witness.

  Scout sucked in a breath as they disappeared. “Do you have the tickets?” Nick asked.

  She withdrew them from her bag, self-conscious of the way she’d folded them. Pressing them flat, she handed them over and he gave them to a woman at the desk. Another waiter passed and she grabbed another glass of champagne. This one went down just as fast, but seemed to settle her a bit.

  “Ready?” Nick asked.

  She took his arm and they followed the guests into the main room. Soft music played as invitees mingled with acquaintances. The chairs were all trimmed in soft shades of rose, and topiaries spilled like waterfalls from the center of each round table.

  There were so many flowers, the room smelled like a garden. Crystals hung and candles flickered. The volume of the soft chatter collided with the easy music, creating a low roar that made it difficult to hear.