The Start of Something Good Page 8

  His mouth practically dropped open. "What do you know about my leg?" he asked in a warning voice.

  She didn't seem intimidated at all. In fact, she had the nerve to toss her mane of honey hair and come closer. "Car accident, right? I spoke to someone in town. Seems the consensus is you got hurt, left your previous job, and came home. You proceeded to lock yourself in some sad little bungalow and now refuse to come out. How am I doing so far?"

  His head spun. Red mist shrouded his vision. Oh, she needed to learn some manners, and he was just the type to teach her. "You know nothing about what happened to me," he said softly. "Your entire career revolves around manipulating the truth. Let me ask you this, princess: Have you ever gotten real before? Do you even know what it is?"

  She bared her teeth and gave a throaty growl. The sound was almost sexual and registered below his waist. Thank fuck he was too pissed off to care. "I can get real, anytime, anyplace, horse man. I'm not afraid to answer any question with the truth, and your cheap shots about my career are just that. Cheap. You know nothing about the people I try to protect or what I stand for."

  "Any question, huh?"

  They were close now. The scent of her perfume surrounded him--some type of exotic orange spice. Her lashes were thick and dark. Her lips were pursed with a furious focus, painted the color of pale apple cider. She had a dab of white sunscreen on her nose she'd forgotten to rub in and some type of shimmery gold shadow under her arched brows. She was infuriating and silly, and for one brief, horrifying moment, Ethan wanted to kiss her.

  "Yes, any question," she snarled back.

  Too bad the woman would break under one good passionate kiss, or else he'd be tempted to play a mean game of chicken to see who would retreat first.

  Too bad she was already sleeping with Lake.

  Instead, he leaned in and gave a slow, mocking smile. "You really think I'm sexy, huh?"

  She jerked back, eyes wide with horror. "You are pure evil," she whispered.

  Ethan chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me, princess. Anytime you wanna get real, give me a ring."

  A shriek emitted from her lips. She stomped around him in those towering heels. "I will never, ever bring you lunch again!"

  Suddenly, Hei Hei came racing around the corner, screeching in response to the noise. He stopped short when he spotted Mia, his crazy head feathers bobbing in mad glee, then tore off in pursuit. Ethan opened his mouth to stop the suicidal chicken, but she faced down her nemesis, bending over to get in the chicken's face, jabbing a finger wildly in the air.

  "And you! I will not allow you to intimidate me, either, so unless you want to end up on the barbeque, back off!"

  Hei Hei stopped short and stared at her with mute fascination.

  With one last glare, Mia stalked off down the path.

  Ethan looked at Hei Hei. "I think we really pissed her off," he offered. "Maybe you should give her some space before you try to make friends again."

  With one last wild cluck, the chicken took off after her like a scorned lover on the path to redemption.

  Ethan shook his head. "I warned him," he muttered. Then he headed inside to shower and change for dinner, wondering what strange spell Mia Thrush had cast that made him want to kiss her even for a moment.

  Chapter Eight

  "Mia, I'd like you and Chloe to join me for dinner tonight."

  Still seething from her encounter, Mia blinked, as if coming out of a trance. She stood in the hallway before the staircase. "Dinner?"

  Ophelia smiled. "Yes, since you're staying the whole summer, it would be nice to get to know one another better. I'd also like to give you a homemade meal. It can't be easy to eat out every night. All the other guests are out on their own, so it will be low key."

  Mia hesitated. She wasn't up for a bunch of polite chitchat, but Ophelia seemed genuinely excited about the invitation. And Mia did like the woman's company. Maybe it would be good for her and Chloe to have a normal evening over a meal. She'd been isolating herself too much. "I'd love to."

  "Wonderful! I'll meet you in the back dining room in an hour."

  Mia went upstairs, informed Chloe of their plans, and began to freshen up. She needed to get Ethan out of her head and move on. She'd stay far away from that horse barn of his and keep contact to a minimum. The image of him towering over her flashed in her mind. Something strange had passed between them for a few seconds--a weird sexual attraction that was as horrifying as it was surprising. Probably the heat of her anger and a rush of adrenaline. A groan escaped her lips. Why, oh why had she slipped and said he had a sexy body? So. Embarrassing. And maybe his body was slamming, but his personality sucked, and that beard was out of control. Plus he was a ginger! She was not attracted to redheads at all. Even though he kind of reminded her of Michael Fassbender with that intriguing Irish flavor.

  It was time to admit the real problem.

  It had been way too long since she'd had a man in her life. She was used to polite, civilized men in custom suits that smelled of expensive bottled musk and made promises they'd never keep. She knew about smooth smiles and pretty words that hid true intentions. She lived in that world and memorized every hidden nook and cranny. She'd fallen in love or lust twice and realized the moment they'd lied when they told her she was the only one. Her gift to sniff out deceit and falsities served her well in the cutthroat world of politics, but it had eradicated her trust in her own heart. Twice, she'd been cheated on and had been unable to steep herself in denial. Twice, she'd thrown the bastards out the front door.

  Unfortunately, the memory of their betrayal stayed and did a job on her confidence. Deep inside, she wondered if there was something wrong with her. Why would both men cheat so easily? In both of her relationships, they'd never even been challenged with hard times. Was she a woman who didn't inspire a man to stick around?

  She despised such weak beliefs about herself, but they still came like clockwork in the dead of night, keeping her from sleep, driving her crazy.

  It was easier to concentrate on her job, go out with friends, and have fun in the city's playground. There was always something to do to keep her body and mind active.

  Here? Not so much.

  Which must be why she experienced that flicker of heat with a man she didn't like.

  Dear God, she hadn't even brought her vibrator.

  Irritated from her spinning thoughts, she knocked on Chloe's door, and they headed downstairs to the dining area. It was situated across from the main room, where guests ate breakfast, and was decorated in a more intimate, casual feel. The table was carved pine, with thick, sturdy chairs, and painted in a warm Tuscan gold. Vases full of fresh flowers were situated around the room. A gorgeous wine rack in scrolled iron climbed up the corner of the wall, holding an impressive number of bottles. Framed pictures hung on the walls and filled the sideboard countertops. One wall was taken up with an elaborate photo collage that said FAMILY. Mia wandered over and studied the pictures: A beautiful woman with long, red hair laughed into the camera, hugging two girls and a boy. A magnificent horse was in the background, looking into the camera as if annoyed he wasn't asked to formally join the shoot.

  Ophelia came in and dropped a large steaming bowl onto the hot plate. "That's my mom," she said, pointing at the laughing woman. "Me, Harper, and Ethan."

  "You look so happy," Mia said. She remembered Fran's comment about the funeral. "When did your mom pass?"

  "A few years ago. Cancer."

  Like Chloe's mom. "I'm sorry," she said.

  "Better to see her out of pain. But you're right, we were pretty happy. Growing up on a farm is an amazing experience as a kid."

  "Who's the horse?" Chloe asked curiously.

  "Patricia's Prince," Ophelia said. "My mom's horse. It was our first real rescue situation that began the whole idea of a farm."

  A dark-haired, long-legged woman strolled in and jumped into the conversation. "Mom was at this farm, and she caught sight of a horse chained outside, bucking a
nd kicking. When she asked about him, the owner said he was trouble and would be put on the next truck to the slaughterhouse. The horse was scrawny, mean, and refused to get close to anyone. Mom freaked out and asked to buy him. The guy laughed and made fun of her, but took the money."

  Ophelia took up the thread, her face animated. "So Mom manages to get the horse home--we had only one barn back then--and begins to spend all this time outside his stall, talking to him. Eventually, he stopped going nuts when she came over and let her lead him outside to the paddock. Every two hours, she'd approach the horse and try to get him to take an apple from her hand. Each time, he'd throw a tantrum and run away."

  Chloe widened her eyes. "What happened?"

  Ophelia continued. "One day, she walked over and extended the treat. The horse regarded her for a long time, Mom said they stared at each other forever, and then he slowly went up and began eating the apple. Mom stroked his head and said, 'Now, no more silliness. You're safe here, and I'll never make you be someone you're not.' After that, he'd do anything for her. Even went on to the racing circuit for a while and brought in some serious cash. Mom decided we should build more barns and create a safe place to help more horses. She had one motto."

  "What?" Mia asked curiously.

  The masculine voice cut through the room. "'Every soul--both animal and human--deserves a worthy life.'"

  A short silence settled in the room. Mia's heart squeezed at the beautiful words. "Sounds like your mother was the worthiest of all."

  Her gaze crashed with pale-blue eyes. A mixture of emotions swirled in their depths, then quickly vanished to polite distance. She cleared her throat and took a step back. Dammit, now she was stuck conversing with her mortal enemy over the dinner table. If she'd known Ethan would be here, she would've declined the invite. She was almost tempted to make an excuse and leave. Almost.

  But she refused to let the jerk win.

  She'd just ignore him.

  Ethan walked over to Ophelia and gave her an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. "Thanks for cooking, Tink."

  "Ugh, I said not to call me that."

  "Sorry." He grinned and tugged at her hair, confirming he definitely wasn't sorry. Ophelia swatted his arm away, but she was smiling. Mia was struck by their easy, intimate relationship. He seemed so much more open around his sister. Even sort of . . . nice.

  The dark-haired woman stuck out her hand. She was dressed casually in a powder-blue T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. Her face held strong, sharp lines similar to her brother's, and her blue eyes were a few shades darker. She had a no-nonsense demeanor. "I'm Harper; I don't think we've met. I handle the rescue portion of the farm and the riding."

  "Mia Thrush. Nice to meet you."

  Harper turned to Chloe. "Heard you're impressing Ethan. Keep up the good work. We're happy to have you."

  "Thanks. I like learning about the horses." Mia noticed the teen's shoulders straightened, as if she took pride in Harper's compliment.

  "Ethan said you wanted to learn to ride. How about we squeeze in a lesson next week?"

  "Sweet!"

  Mia turned to Ophelia. "Can I help with dinner?"

  She waved a graceful hand in the air. Her pretty yellow apron contrasted with her strawberry-gold hair and gave her an almost ethereal presence. "It's all done. Ethan, can you crack open a bottle of wine. Red or white, Mia?"

  "I like both."

  Ethan grabbed a pinot noir and walked over to the sideboard. Ophelia set out a pitcher of sweet tea and filled a glass for Chloe. The table was filled with various dishes that made Mia's stomach jump up and down in anticipation. The salad and hummus for lunch hadn't gone as far as she liked. But this? This was insanity.

  A platter of moist turkey with a boat of rich gravy sat before her. She took in the biscuits that looked moist and flaky and a bowl of crisp green beans with almonds. The tempting rich scents rose up to her nostrils and begged her to succumb.

  Everyone sat down and began passing around the platters. Mia scooped a few precious spoonfuls onto her plate, mournfully gazing at the biscuits practically calling out to her. No carbs. Anything but the carbs. One biscuit could be deadly and lead to another.

  "So, Chloe, what are you studying in school?" Ophelia asked, slathering butter on a biscuit and pouring a trickle of gravy over it. Mia cut her turkey into tiny pieces to make them last longer.

  "Psychology."

  "Do you like it?"

  The teen shrugged. "I'm stuck taking a bunch of other classes before I can take the real core courses."

  Harper laughed. "Boy, do I remember that. Art history, algebra, biology, theater, sociology, all the things you'll never need to know for a real job." Chloe smiled back. "But I have to admit I liked being pushed a bit. Learning things keep you from being boring and lame."

  "True," Ophelia agreed. "I despised Shakespeare until I took a class in college. The professor was able to relate the writing in relevant ways, and suddenly, a light bulb clicked on for me. After that, I had a new appreciation for more literature."

  Chloe hesitated. "Well, I wish sometimes I could just focus on stuff like that, but I'm usually too worried about my grades."

  "Scholarship?" Ethan asked.

  "No, I just--I just need As." A touch of frustration radiated from her figure. She dragged her fork across her plate. "Most of the stuff I'm good at, but I had to take this biology course to fit into my schedule, and it was harder than I thought. The drop date passed, so I got stuck. Then the professor didn't offer me any opportunities for extra credit or help."

  Mia regarded the girl thoughtfully. Ah, that was the class where she cheated on the exam. She seemed quite focused on As. Was she under extreme pressure to perform and panicked? Did Jonathan expect perfect grades? She made a mental note to dig further later.

  Ethan nodded. "I get it. My nemesis was English. No professor was ever able to change my opinion on Shakespeare. I think Shakespeare sucks, and my grades proved it."

  Mia smothered a smile. "I despise Jane Austen novels," she admitted.

  Ophelia gasped. "Impossible. I don't think I've ever met a woman who wasn't in love with Austen. Even Harper swooned over Pride and Prejudice."

  "I don't swoon over anything," Harper said. "But Austen is a great writer."

  Mia wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, she's way too subtle for me. It's exhausting."

  Ethan's deep laugh brought both surprise and a rush of warmth that flowed through her veins. Most of the time he looked like he wanted to strangle her. It was odd to think he may actually have a sense of humor.

  Harper sighed. "Well, college isn't easy, and I'm sure you're sick of everyone always telling you to enjoy the best times of your life. First, it's high school, then college, then dating, then motherhood. There's always an opinion on when you should be happy. Then you feel guilty and ungrateful for not being happy. Sometimes it just is what it is, and that should be okay."

  Chloe stared at Harper as if her brain had finally clicked on an important answer. "Yeah. That's how I feel a lot. Like everyone has these expectations for me to be a certain way."

  "Once you start just accepting what it is you really want, things get a bit easier."

  "Deep thoughts, Harp. We're all impressed."

  "Screw you, Ethan."

  Everyone laughed. Plates were passed around for second helpings. Mia took a few more greens and savored the saltiness of the almonds, the clean snap against her teeth, the sweetness of the bean.

  "Tell us about your job, Mia," Ophelia prompted.

  "I own a public relations firm, Strategy Solutions. Basically I help clients with their careers by handling social media accounts, news stories, events, and anything else that crops up. I have sports celebrities, a singer, and politicians as clients." She glanced at Chloe, keeping quiet about her father and hoping Ethan would respect the girl's privacy. Not that she didn't trust Harper and Ophelia. It was just easier to keep the relationship under wraps in case any news was leaked to the guests, even in
an innocent manner. She'd learned firsthand how fast gossip could spread and ruin anyone in its path just to sell a few magazines and feed the ravenous public appetite for drama.

  "Sounds exciting," Harper said. "What made you get into that field?"

  She focused on her plate, trying not to stiffen up. "I believe everyone needs some help reaching their goals. In the age of the internet, with alternative facts and social media trolls, sometimes a PR representative can make a huge difference."

  "Even if they have to lie?"

  Ethan's direct question held an undercurrent of judgment. She kept her voice cool and impersonal. "I don't lie." She challenged him with her gaze. "In fact, I have a gift. I can spot a lie from anyone."

  Ophelia's eyes widened. "No way."

  Ethan snorted. "Impossible."

  "Try me."

  "I will!" Ophelia grabbed another biscuit. How was the woman so thin? "How about I tell you three things, and you tell me which is the lie?"

  "Perfect. Go ahead."

  Ophelia closed her eyes halfway. "Got it. I always wanted to be a singer. My hero is Walt Disney. My favorite color is blue."

  Ethan rubbed his scalp and groaned. "That's the worst list I ever heard. Give her something hard."

  "That was hard!"

  Chloe made a sound suspiciously close to a giggle. "The last one is a lie," Mia said.

  Ophelia sighed with defeat. "You're right. It's yellow."

  "I'll give her a whirl," Harper cut in. "I graduated at the top of my class in high school. I once broke a leg falling off a horse. I attended a Britney Spears concert and sang at the top of my lungs."

  Mia studied Harper's face, then slowly smiled. "First one is a lie."

  Harper whistled. "You're right. Pretty good."

  "Do Ethan next," Ophelia said. "Prove to Mr. Smarty Pants you can spot his lies."

  Those baby blues gleamed with challenge. Her tummy tightened in an odd tingly sort of way as he propped his elbows on the table and smiled real slow. "Ready?" he drawled.

  Ignoring her ridiculously galloping heart, she nodded. "Go ahead."

  "I got suspended for kissing Penny Ryder in the third grade. I had a few beers with the actor Scott Eastwood. I mangled up my leg in a car accident."

  Everyone seemed to hold a collective breath.

  Mia let her gaze travel over his face, lingering on the slight crease of his brow, the clench of his jaw, the almost rebellious pout of his lips. He stared back in a watchful stillness, pushing her to dig deeper, dive further, and find . . .