The Dirty South

  The days are growing shorter now, and I know I won’t be able to work outside for much longer. But already I’ve scoped out a small room on the third floor of the Manor that has great natural lighting and plenty of space to work, and an amazing view. Colton suggested I ask Della Mae if I could use it when the weather becomes too inhospitable, and she’d enthusiastically agreed.

  I’m lost in my thoughts, humming to myself as I change out of my work clothes and into a sweater and some jeans. Colton is working late at the shop tonight, but is coming over for supper when he’s done. So I’m surprised when I hear a knock on my door. I’m not expecting him for another hour or so.

  My face lights up as I walk over to let him in.

  “Hi—” The word dies on my lips, and I can feel the blood drain from my face. I stare in shock… and horror, at the person standing there.

  He’s disguised in a bulky jacket and dark glasses, with his fedora tipped low in the front. But I’d know that multi-million dollar face anywhere.

  “Christian,” I gasp. “What…?”

  He pushes his way in and shuts the door behind us, turning the lock.

  I look around quickly for something, anything, to defend myself with.

  He gives a low chuckle. “Don’t get any ideas, you little bitch. I won’t hesitate to snap your pretty neck if you make one wrong move.”

  I stand and stare at him, my heart and mind racing. He’s much bigger and stronger than I am, and I don’t see anything nearby that I could use as a weapon. Not even a knife.

  Screaming won’t help. Maybe Willie would hear, and maybe he’d call the police. But maybe he’d come over to see what the trouble is, and put himself in danger as well.

  I have no choice. I have to cooperate… play nice.

  But how does one cooperate with a psychopath?

  I take a steadying breath and slowly back away from him. “What are you doing here, Christian?” I ask, my voice low.

  He steps in further and takes off his glasses, and I see his lying, calculating eyes. It still blows my mind that he can be so worshipped by millions of women around the world. If they only knew…

  He casually takes off his hat and sets it down on the counter, then slowly removes his jacket and folds it up neatly over the back of the couch.

  “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” I tell him. “You’re not staying.”

  He turns and gives me a chilling smile. “I will do whatever the fuck I want. Do you not understand that concept? Do you not understand how this is going to go? That I make the rules, and you do whatever the fuck you’re told?”

  I keep backing up until I reach the wall. Christian takes a seat on the couch as if he were relaxing at a spa.

  “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  His eyes narrow. “You and I need to have a little talk.”

  “No, we don’t. We have nothing to say to each other. I want nothing to do with you or Brandon.”

  Suddenly he leaps up, and in a flash he’s across the room, his hand roughly jammed against my chest as he pins me to the wall. “Oh yeah? Really? Then why was I called in to a meeting with the studio heads last week? Seems they heard some ‘rumors’… rumors only a little bitch like you would spread!”

  I shake my head. “No, I haven’t said anything—”

  “I don’t know what you think you saw that night,” he continues, his voice low and threatening, “but I warned you that if you ever said anything I would fuck you up. And I meant it!” I close my eyes and turn my head, trying to push him off me.

  “I never said a word! Not to anyone! I swear!”

  “Did you really think I’d let you get away with it?” he continues, pressing back on me harder. “Did you really think I’d sit by and let you ruin my life? Cost me millions of dollars? Huh? Did you?! Do you have eighteen million dollars to pay me if I get dropped from the studio because of your jealous lies?”

  “I never said a word! I swear!”

  “Why should I believe you, you lying bitch? We tried to be nice. We tried to offer you a deal. And you basically told me to go fuck myself. No one tells me to go fuck myself!” he roars. He grabs the side of my neck and throws me roughly down on the floor.

  Angry, frustrated tears spill out. I want so badly to stand up and fight back, but I know if I do, it will only get worse.

  “Christian, listen to me,” I plead as I slowly crawl back away from him. I spy an umbrella in the corner and it has a pointed metal tip. Not much, but it’s better than nothing. I begin to inch my way closer to it.

  “Please listen,” I repeat, as his stormy eyes glare down on me. “I swear on my life that I haven’t said anything to anyone. Nothing’s changed on my end. I’m starting over out here and I’m forgetting all about you and Brandon. That’s the past. I’m over it.”

  He gives a derisive laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  “I swear! I have no reason to wish either of you harm. In fact it makes me sad that you can’t just come clean and be happy together! But that’s your choice and your life. But I’m not in it. You may have problems, Christian, but I’m not one.”

  He’s quiet for several long moments, as he continues to glare down on me. “Just because you’re hiding out here doesn’t mean I can’t find you,” he finally says, his voice eerily low. “I know where you live. I know about that guy you’re fucking. I know where you work. I know where Stacia’s apartment building is. I know everything. If I even suspect that you ever say or do anything…”

  “Christian, I won’t. I haven’t. I swear—”

  “I will end you. Understand? And if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone…”

  I shake my head. “I won’t say anything. Christian, please…”

  He walks over to the couch and gets his hat and jacket. He puts them on, then picks up his glasses.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation with you ever again. If I do, you will seriously regret it,” he says.

  And then he puts on his glasses and calmly walks out the door.

  Chapter 26.

  For the next several days, I do my best to avoid Colton – first claiming a wicked migraine, then cramps. I know he’d be able to tell something was wrong, and I need time to pull myself together—get my head on straight and figure out what to do next.

  I’m beyond unnerved by the fact that Christian knows where I am, and can get to me and everyone else I care about so easily. I wouldn’t put it past him to have people spying on me. For right now, I’m pretty sure he just wanted to scare me. And he did. But I’ve decided that if he tries anything again… anything… then I will go to the police. And maybe the press. Meanwhile, there’s not much I can do except try to put it out of my mind and go on with my life.

  So that means focusing on the things that make me feel good…happy. Like my painting. And Colton.

  I smile now as I catch sight of him making his way across the gardens from the garage. With the cooler weather he’s started wearing shirts with the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows – He even makes flannel look good.

  “Hey,” he says, giving me a quick kiss. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  “Yeah…much. Just needed some rest, I guess.” I smile at him.

  He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and looks at my painting with approval.

  “Coming along nicely,” he says. “Marko will be pleased.”

  “Hope so.”

  He turns back to me and seems to hesitate. “I was thinking of meeting some of the guys for some drinks… haven’t really seen them much lately…” His eyes flicker away. “You cool being on your own tonight?”

  “Sure, of course. I’m fine. Plenty to keep me occupied.” I frown. “I hope you don’t feel like just because we spend time together, you can’t go do other things without me. It’s okay that we have our own lives, you know.”

  He seems to relax a little, and his eyes get that familiar look as he steps closer and wraps his arm around my waist. “How about I come ove
r later when I get back?” he says in a throaty voice, his lips feather light on mine.

  I pull him closer. “You know where to find me.”

  But Colton doesn’t come over that night. And when I see him the next day, I sense a slight shift in him—a detached coolness that I haven’t felt for a long time. When we’re in the kitchen eating breakfast, his answers are polite, but short. He looks away when I’m speaking, and he barely touches me at all. And he always seems to find some reason to get away.

  I’m trying not to be concerned. But something is definitely wrong.

  The next few days, I hardly see Colton at all. When he’s not busy in the shop, he’s out in the garage working. He’s even taking his meals out there.

  I’m trying to be understanding, so I’m giving him his space to do whatever he feels he needs to. But after the fifth day, I decide to take matters into my own hands.

  I’d made some pumpkin spice bars earlier, so I put a few on a plate and head out to the garage. Colton is flat on his back under an old blue car, and all I see are his legs sticking out from beneath the driver’s side door. Music is playing softly from the corner.

  I go over and give him a gentle nudge with my foot.

  “Hey…”

  He rolls out and smiles up at me, but his smile fails to reach his eyes. He gets up and wipes off his hands, but as usual they’re covered with grease and it does little good.

  I hold out the plate. “Wanna take a quick break for some dessert?”

  “Mmm. Looks delicious. Set ‘em over there, and I’ll get to them in a bit. Gotta finish this up first.” He turns back to his work.

  A weird lump forms in the bottom of my throat. He answered me like I was a waitress bringing his order.

  I find clean space on the bench for the plate and take a deep breath. “Colton…”

  He glances over at me.

  I take another deep breath. “Is everything okay?”

  He shrugs. “Sure, fine.”

  Okay…

  I bite my lip, unsure what to say. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “I… it just seems that these past few days, maybe something’s been troubling you.”

  He shrugs again and focuses on a mysterious metal part on his work bench. “Nope. Everything’s fine.”

  Coulda fooled me.

  I don’t want to push, but obviously everything is not fine. “Did I do something to make you mad?” I ask quietly.

  He glances up at me, and his eyes darken. “No. Everything’s good.” He walks over and gives me a quick, almost perfunctory kiss. My heart sinks at the coldness of his gesture.

  “Thanks for the bars. I’ll eat them later when I’m not so dirty. But I really got to get back to work now.”

  My stomach is in knots as I slowly make my way back to my bungalow.

  Now, more than ever, I’m relieved for the distraction of work. The tediousness of focusing on entering data is the only thing saving my sanity right now. Something has changed between Colton and me, and I don’t know what it is— or why it happened.

  “I’m impressed!” Sheldon says, as he comes into my tiny office and looks around. “I figured it’d take you at least six months to get through all those boxes.”

  I smile at him. “Nope, just four. But I still have one more box to go.” I point to the one by my desk.

  “Great. Just don’t go too quickly. I need some time to get set up for your next project.”

  I chuckle under my breath. “Okay.”

  He leaves, and I glance out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Colton. I wish I knew what was wrong with him. And why he’s shutting me out.

  Come lunch time, I’m about ready to come undone. I need to talk to someone. I head on over to The Dirty and wave at Vivi.

  “Hey, darlin’, wish I could chat, but we got a full house right now,” she says, blowing right past me.

  “It’s fine… I’ll catch up with you later,” I say.

  It probably isn’t the best idea to try and talk with her about Colton anyways. She knows something is going on between us, but I haven’t actually told her any details yet. She’d started taking her esthetician classes last month, and with both our busy schedules, she and I haven’t had any time for anything other than the occasional quick chat here at The Dirty. I make a metal note to plan a girl-date with her soon.

  I order a salad to go, then on a whim I order Colton’s favorite sandwich. Just on the off-chance he hasn’t eaten yet. If he has, he can always save it for later.

  “Hey, Jayson, Terrell,” I greet the two young men working in the garage. I still can’t tell them apart, since they are as identical as they come. But they either don’t notice or don’t care.

  “Hey, Miss Cady,” they reply in unison.

  “Colton here?” I ask, glancing around.

  They shake their heads. “Nah, he’s not in today,” one says.

  “Not in? Where is he?”

  They shrug. “Says he’s taking a personal day or something. We don’t ask him questions. ‘Specially not with the mood he’s been in lately.”

  Mood? “Well, thanks,” I mumble. I start to leave, then turn and hold up the bag. “Either of you guys want this?”

  Their faces light up. “Thanks, Miss Cady!”

  I wave goodbye and head back to the office. I’m tempted to text Colton to see if he’s all right. But I really think he’s trying to distance himself from me right now and I don’t want to make things worse. I’ll make up an excuse to check on him later when I get home, but for now I have to let it be.

  It’s almost time to finish up for the day. I pull out another file from the box, and I’m startled to see an address I know: 1631 Sycamore Lane. Magnolia Manor

  Curious, I quickly scan the page.

  “What the hell?” I mutter, picking it up for a closer look. I flip to the next page, and the next. They all say the same thing.

  “What the hell?” I repeat louder. I head downstairs and wait impatiently for Sheldon to get off the phone.

  Finally he hangs up and looks at me with a curious smile. “Everything okay, Cady?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a little confused on something here— I was going over these files on the holdings for Magnolia Manor—”

  “Ah, yes. Such an enchanting place. How do you like it there?”

  I pause. “It’s lovely.”

  He nods. “Yes, my wife is a big fan of the gardens. And of course, that breathtaking fountain.”

  “Yes, it’s all very beautiful.” I hold out the paper. “But I’m a little confused. It says here the property is under the direction of the Wilshire Management firm, but the actual owner is Colton Ryan Lassiter.”

  Sheldon glances at the paper, and then back at me. “Well… yes?”

  “Colton owns Magnolia Manor?”

  He picks up a file from his desk. “Sure. Been in his family for generations.” He looks at me, a bit perplexed. “Is there some sort of problem?”

  I quickly shake my head. “No… not at all. I’m just surprised. He just never mentioned anything to me about it.”

  Sheldon flips through the folder in his hand, only half paying attention. “Yup. It’s his all right.”

  I think back. “He told me the former owners had died, and that it’s run by a management company now.”

  “Well, that is true. Colton was overseas when Jim and Sarah Lassiter were killed in an auto accident nearly three years ago.” He shakes his head sadly. “The whole town was in shock. They were a lovely, dynamic couple. Jim was a wonderful friend and philanthropist, and Sarah was a real sweetheart.”

  “So Colton owns the whole place now?”

  Sheldon shakes his head. “No, he’s just the majority owner. Someone else holds a minority stake.”

  “Oh, well, thanks. Sorry to bother you. I was just curious. I’ll get on back to work.”

  “Why don’t you save all that for tomorrow? I’m re
ady to call it a day and go get myself a nice mug of hot apple cider from The Dirty.”

  I nod, still dazed. “Sure. Just let me put this file back and grab my things.”

  As I head upstairs, the ugly knot that’s been in my stomach all week is growing bigger and bigger.

  Colton pretty much owns the Manor. It really seems like something he should’ve mentioned at some point. Was it an innocent oversight? Or was he being intentionally deceitful in keeping it from me.

  I have a sinking suspicion that once again I may have been played for a total fool. Maybe I can’t trust Colton Lassiter after all.

  Chapter 27.

  I don’t see Colton’s truck when I get home. He’s not in the garage or the kitchen. And there are no lights on in his cottage. When I ask Willie if he knows where he might be, he’s strangely tight-lipped and vague, saying something like, “Sometimes the boy just needs his space.” But I get the distinct feeling he knows more than he’s letting on.

  I take the hint and head back to my own guest house, vowing not to call or text Colton. But I’m worried about him.

  As I cross the gardens, a dark thought enters my mind. Maybe he’s intentionally avoiding me for a reason. Maybe he didn’t like where things were going with us, and he’s over it. But now he doesn’t know what to do, because I live here too.

  The possibility is killing me. I don’t want to think like this, at least not until I’ve had a chance to talk to him and see what’s going on. But if that is the case… if he’s uncomfortable being here, in his own house, because I’m here… well, I certainly don’t need to stay where I’m not wanted. The rent is already paid through December, but I’m making enough money that I could afford a small place somewhere else. I could be packed up and gone within twenty-four hours.