Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The closer they got to Newton, the more out of sorts Cal felt.

He’d enjoyed his alone time with June. Was selfish and didn’t want to share her with anyone else. His friends would want to know everything about her. April would want to make sure she had no ulterior motives; she was like a protective mother bear when it came to “her boys.” And Carlise would want to be her new best friend.

All of which were good things, but Cal wanted to wrap June in a bubble and keep her to himself. It made no sense. It was bloody ridiculous. And yet, he couldn’t shake the thought.

As he pulled into town, the feeling only got stronger, more urgent. It was all he could do not to drive straight to his house, haul her inside, and lock the door behind them.

But June was sitting up in her seat, looking around with wide, excited eyes. And the last thing Cal wanted to do was dim that enthusiasm.

To him, Newton wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was home. It was a typical small American town, a place where he was now comfortable enough to be himself. No one here treated him as Prince Redmon. To the locals, he was an employee of Jack’s Lumber who came to their aid when a tree fell across a road, or on a house, or on someone’s property. He climbed into trees to rescue kittens—and kids—who’d gone a bit too high to come down safely without assistance. He wasn’t born and raised there, but he was treated like one of their own.

He pointed out the various buildings and businesses that he figured she might be interested in visiting at some point. Granny’s Burgers, the small grocery store, the hardware store, the one and only beauty shop in town. June nodded at each, and he figured she was making mental notes as to where everything was, so she wouldn’t have to ask in the future.

He’d learned that she wasn’t big on asking for help. He would have to watch out for that—

No. Cal shook his head. It wouldn’t be his job in the future. She’d find someone else who would willingly keep her safe and make sure she didn’t try to handle everything on her own.

“The empty room April found isn’t too far from here,” Cal forced himself to say. His tone was a bit gruff, but he didn’t think June noticed. She was too busy taking in the sights.

It was early afternoon, and the sun was out, although it wasn’t exactly warm. Spring came late to this part of Maine, and Cal was looking forward to being busy with the tree business and leading hikers on the AT once more. It would give him something to do other than obsess over the woman next to him.

“Are you sure they said there was no deposit?” June asked worriedly. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“If April said it, it’s true,” Cal told her. When they’d stopped for gas, he’d found an email from April with the address of the place and the basic details of the lease.

“Okay. I have enough for about three months’ rent if the cost she mentioned is right, but not much more. I’ll look for a job right away.”

It took everything in Cal not to insist he’d pay for her rent, that she didn’t have to worry. June had pride, which he understood, but there was no way he was going to let her go hungry or be homeless if she couldn’t find a job.

“It’ll work out,” he said, keeping his concentration on their surroundings. He hadn’t been to this area of Newton before, so he wasn’t sure where he was going. The navigation system gave him turn-by-turn directions—and when it announced that they’d reached their destination, Cal frowned.

This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be the room April had found for June.

They were parked in front of a house that looked as if it had seen much better days. The porch was missing a couple of boards, there was a rusted-out car in the front yard, and the place was badly in need of a paint job.

“Oh . . . it’s . . . kind of cute,” June said after a pregnant pause.

It wasn’t. It was a disaster. June, being June, was simply trying to remain positive.

“I’m sure the room inside will be fine.”

It wasn’t an apartment complex, just a single room the homeowner was renting out. Cal had known as much. Rental places in such a small town were rare, and the few apartment buildings were usually full. He knew it had an attached loo and a separate entrance, as it was a room in the basement. When he’d asked about a kitchen, she’d emailed back something about a hot plate and a dorm fridge. Not ideal, though he’d agreed to look at the place.

But now? After seeing the house in person? He knew exactly where he’d take June.

Without saying a word, Cal put the Rolls in reverse and backed out of the driveway, which was full of deep ruts.

“Cal?” June asked.

He didn’t respond, just pulled away from the house.

“Where are you going? Stop!”

“You aren’t living there,” he said firmly.

“I know the outside needs some work, but I’m sure the room is perfectly adequate. If nothing else, it’ll be mine. I won’t have to be at someone’s beck and call. I can do what I want, when I want—”

“You can do that where I’m taking you too,” he said as calmly as possible.

He was making a mistake. He knew that. The more time he spent around this woman, the harder it would be to walk away. But he wasn’t going to let her live somewhere that didn’t look safe. Where she wasn’t safe.

Maybe he wasn’t being fair; he hadn’t seen the room, after all, and he hadn’t met her prospective landlord. But he couldn’t leave her in that shitehole of a house. He just couldn’t.

“You know of another room? Did April send you more than one place for us to check out?”

“Yes,” Cal lied, not feeling the least bit remorseful about it. He had a few choice words for April, but they could wait. Sure, he’d given her only a day’s notice to find something, but he couldn’t understand why she’d ever think that place was appropriate. He could only guess she hadn’t seen it firsthand . . . but that wasn’t like their admin. She was nothing if not thorough.

“Okay,” June said quietly.

It didn’t take Cal long to get to his destination. He pulled into the long driveway and glanced over at June.

She was staring at the house with wide eyes. “Holy crap, Cal. This is gorgeous! This can’t be right. There’s no way I can afford whatever the rent is to live here.”

Satisfaction swam through his veins along with relief that she liked the look of the house. It was his pride and joy. He’d bought it when he’d first moved to Newton and had done a lot of work to make it into what it was today. He’d spent every waking moment that first year fixing it up when he wasn’t working his day job. The result of hours of online instructional videos, and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, it was a house he was proud to call home.

“You can,” he assured her as he stopped the Rolls.

June stepped out of the SUV and continued to stare in wide-eyed wonder at his house. The wraparound porch had a swing on it usually, but it was currently in the garage for the winter. He had a couple of chairs on the wooden deck, though, and even a wreath on his front door—one that April had bought for him.

The two-story house looked as if it came straight out of an architectural magazine. It was part of the reason Cal had bought it. He’d loved the old-fashioned woodwork, even if it made upkeep a bitch in the harsh Maine climate.

It had an open floor plan, cathedral ceilings, a chef’s kitchen, crown molding, and yellow birch hardwood floors. He had two fireplaces, one in the master bedroom and another in the great room.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

“Wait—what?” June asked, finally clueing in.

But Cal didn’t give her a chance to balk. He took her hand in his, ignoring how right it felt, and towed her toward the front door.

“I usually use the back door, as it’s closer to the detached garage, but I figure you’d get the most out of the tour if we went in through the front.”

“Wait, Cal, you live here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And you rent out rooms?” she persisted.

“No. Not usually. But apparently now I do.”

“I can’t—” June started.

Cal turned to her once they’d cleared the three steps to the porch. He yanked her toward him, ignoring the small oof when she hit his chest. “Yes, you can. And you will. There’s no way I’m leaving you at that poor excuse for a house. I don’t care if the rooms inside are immaculate. The roof probably leaks, and the neighborhood looks dodgy as hell.

“You’ll be safe here. I give you my word as a member of the Liechtenstein royal family. You can get on your feet, find a job, save some money, then find your own place. Please, June . . . don’t make me take you back there. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d stop eating from worry. Waste away to nothing.” He was laying it on thick, with a small grin for her benefit . . . but he was being completely honest too.

June rolled her eyes. “I really shouldn’t,” she said.

“You should,” he countered. “At least take a look. I have a guest suite on the second floor—it has a little sitting area and your own en suite loo. We’ll have to share the kitchen, but if that makes you uncomfortable, we can get you a small fridge and whatever other appliances you need or want for your room.”

“I don’t mind sharing a kitchen with you, Cal,” she said with a huff. “Jeez. We slept together last night. Why would I care about sharing your kitchen?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she blushed a fiery red.

“I mean . . . I . . . um . . . shoot.”

Cal let her off the hook, even though her words brought memories of holding her to the forefront of his mind. “I know what you meant, and I’m glad. I’m not a slob, I clean up after myself, and there will be times when I’m not here for several days and nights in a row, if I’m on a job out on the AT. You won’t even know I’m here much of the time.”

But he’d know she was there for sure.

Reluctantly letting go of her, he turned to the door and put his key into the lock. “At least give it a look,” he cajoled.

“All right. But if at any time you change your mind, you have to promise to tell me,” she fretted.

“I will,” Cal said, knowing he’d never reach that point. He might encourage her to go, to spread her wings and fly, but he’d never kick her out from a lack of wanting her there.

He held his breath as she entered his home. He wanted her to like the inside as well, which was a new feeling. He didn’t care what others thought about his house, but he desperately wanted June to feel comfortable.

She strolled around the great room with wide eyes, touching things here and there as she explored. When she went into the kitchen, he heard her quick indrawn breath.

“Wow, Cal. This is . . . I don’t even know what this is.”

“It’s a kitchen,” he deadpanned.

He’d spared no expense when he’d redone the space. He wasn’t the best cook, but he wanted a kitchen that was well organized, beautiful, and functional.

He had a deep farmhouse sink, long counters, custom woodworked cabinets, deluxe appliances, a small food prep sink, marble countertops, a Bertazzoni freestanding gas range, a double refrigerator, a wine cooler, custom-designed storage for pots, pans, and lids, and every other gadget and kitchen utensil known to man.

Now that he thought about it, Cal realized he’d gone way over the top. But he liked what he liked. The kitchen was easy to get around and looked damn good as well.

She turned to him, shaking her head. “You know, up until this moment, I didn’t really think about the fact that you were rich. I mean, you mentioned having plenty of money. And I would’ve figured it out if you hadn’t, what with your car and all, but . . . I guess I blocked it out. Now? Seeing this?” She waved her hand, indicating the large kitchen. “It’s really hitting home. I don’t think I can live up to all this.” She looked around again, frowning as she swallowed nervously.

Cal walked toward her. She backed up until she was against the counter and couldn’t go any farther. He got close enough to touch, without actually doing so. But he was definitely crowding her.

“Not live up to it? You already do,” he insisted, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his tone. “You’re one of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met . . . and that’s after being around you for less than a week. Your loyalty, even to people who haven’t done one iota to deserve it, is mind blowing. Your ability to feel empathy for others, to treat them with kindness, to smile when your world is bleak, to find joy in the moment, to be humble—all of those things make me feel as if I’m completely failing at this whole living thing.

“This kitchen? This house? My car, my bank account, and everything else . . . I’d give it all up in a second if it meant being able to change my past. To be anonymous. To not have been a target simply because of my heritage. But I can’t. So I’ve hidden out here alone. Built this beautiful house, because I thought it would make me content and happy.

“It’s only after meeting you that I’ve remembered things can’t do that . . . only people can. I’ve been more relaxed, more settled, in the few days I’ve spent with you than I have in years in this house. You’ve done that. Not the material things I’ve collected or the lofty title hanging over my head. And again . . . I’d give it all up today if I could be the kind of person you are. To live a life free of bitterness and wariness toward my fellow man.”

Cal realized he was babbling. Talking about stuff that had little to do with the elegant, expensive kitchen that had started this conversation. But he couldn’t seem to hold back around June.

He flinched slightly when she lifted a hand, but relaxed when she placed it on his cheek.

“Cal,” she whispered.

She didn’t say anything else for the longest moment. Finally, when she spoke, her brown eyes held so much emotion and intensity, he couldn’t look away.

“I am bitter,” she told him. “I’m angry that my dad died and left me alone with Elaine. I don’t trust people pretty much ever, but you were an exception. And your family, your experiences . . . they’ve all made you into the man you are today.”

Cal couldn’t help but wince at that.

June shook her head. “No, it’s not a bad thing. You’re protective and watchful. Wary of other people and always on alert. And you might think those are negative traits, but in my eyes, they’re a gift. For so long, I’ve had no one to rely on but myself. I’ve had to watch my own back, fend for myself. But around you, I’ve been able to relax. Let down my guard just a little, simply because I know you’re there. Paying attention to the people around us, the cars, the very space.

“Don’t you get it? If you weren’t who you are now, if you hadn’t experienced what you have experienced . . . I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have trusted you when you said you wanted to help me. So don’t be ashamed of your past. It’s there. It can’t be changed any more than mine can. All we can do is be grateful for the lessons we’ve learned and move forward.”

Cal wanted to nod. To tell her she was wise and that he fully agreed. But he was still too swamped with bitterness. With shame. Her words felt good, really good . . . but he wasn’t ready to completely believe them. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

“And as far as this kitchen goes . . . I’m thinking I could probably get used to it,” she teased with a small smile.

Cal covered her hand where it lay on his cheek. He kissed her palm after lifting it, keeping her hand tightly in his. “You aren’t a house cleaner,” he warned her. “Not my cook, not my maid. This is your home. You want to leave your shoes in the middle of the floor, feel free. You want to invite people over to visit? Go for it. I’ll get you a key so you can come and go as you please, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you a reliable vehicle as well. In the meantime, you can use mine when you want, and if I need to go anywhere, I’ll get a ride from one of my friends. I want you to be comfortable here, princess. Don’t feel as if you can’t touch or use anything in this house. It’s all just stuff. Understand?”

“Why are you being so generous?” she whispered.

“You don’t know?” he asked.

She gave a small shake of her head.

There was so much Cal wanted to say. So much he wanted to admit.

But she’d run scared if he told her that he could easily imagine June as his future. That he could practically see his unborn children in her eyes. That after mere days, he already knew he’d become a shell of a man without her in his life.

And he wouldn’t admit any of that, even if she was willing to hear it. He wasn’t good enough for her. Money and a title weren’t enough to hold this woman’s interest. To satisfy her huge personality. Her sunny disposition. He didn’t want to taint her. Hold her back. Drag her into his darkness.

“Because you deserve so much more than you’ve gotten in life thus far,” Cal settled on saying.

“So do you,” she said softly.

Cal almost laughed at that. Ninety-nine percent of the people in the world would disagree with her. They’d take one look at his bank account, at his family, and assume he was the spoiled rich prince the media loved to exploit with fabricated stories about his life.

“You’ll stay?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Even though my car scares you, and my kitchen makes you afraid to touch anything?”

She smiled, and Cal realized he’d do anything, anything, to keep that happy look on her face.

“Well, I haven’t seen the rest of the house, but I’m thinking I could move into this kitchen and sleep on the floor and be completely content.”

“So that’s a yes?” he pressed.

“Yes, Cal. I’d be honored to stay here for a while.”

For a while. God, he hated hearing those three words, but she was right. Eventually, she’d want a place of her own. A good man in her life. She might even find Newton not to her liking and decide to move to a bigger city. It would kill him to let her go, but he would. He liked her more than enough to want the best for her, and he knew deep in his heart that it wasn’t him.

“Good. If you want to go upstairs and explore the rest of the house, I’ll get our bags and move the car into the garage. I thought I’d grill up some steaks tonight, if you’re interested . . .”

Cal did his best to sound nonchalant, but the simple act of discussing what to have for dinner with this woman felt so right.

“I can help with the bags and dinner,” she offered immediately.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. I’ve got it. Let me treat you. First night in your new place and all,” he said somewhat lamely.

“All this and being waited on . . . ,” she teased. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to want to leave.”

A pang hit Cal hard and fast. He didn’t want her to leave either. But he recognized that she was making a joke, so he grinned. “The guest suite is upstairs to the left. Take your time. I’ll bring your suitcases upstairs in a few minutes.”

Then he forced himself to let go of her hand and turn his back on her as he headed to the front door.

“Cal?”

Her voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

The two words were whispered and so full of gratitude—and some other emotion he couldn’t read—that they made Cal’s insides ache. He hated that so few people had been kind to this woman. She’d lived in a pit of vipers, and it made him angry that she’d been so underappreciated. He swore to make sure she never felt that way ever again. “You’re welcome, princess. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

He continued to the entrance and reached for the doorknob. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to turn around and take June in his arms. Having her here—in his home, in his space—was something he thought he’d never experience. Sharing his life and home with a woman. She wasn’t his, and the circumstances weren’t romantic, but he was having a hard time telling his heart that.

Now that he was home, he had several calls to make. To his parents, to Karl, to his friends. He wanted to put out feelers to help June find some sort of job where she could feel needed and stay busy. He already knew she was just like him in that regard—didn’t like to be idle.

He also wanted to have a chat with the police chief, Alfred Rutkey, about what little he knew of June’s situation. There may not be anything that could be done about the questionable death of her father, but he couldn’t rest until he’d looked into it. If Elaine Green had done something to the man, he wanted to make sure she didn’t get away with it.

Not only that, but the fact the two women had fabricated an entire ruse and lied so easily to his face about a stalker still didn’t sit well with him.

He wanted to talk to Carlise and Chappy, find out the details about their wedding ceremony, and see if Carlise, or maybe April, would be willing to help June find something pretty to wear. He didn’t care what she wore, himself, but he had a feeling she’d want to look nice for the occasion.

Yes, there were plenty of things Cal needed to accomplish, but all of that would have to wait—until he managed to stop thinking about the woman inside his home.

He’d gone to Washington, DC, thinking he was simply doing his family a favor, and it had ended up changing his life.

Did he regret it? No. He’d gotten June away from her situation, and he’d make sure she was able to stand on her own two feet. But he wasn’t going to be in her life forever. She needed to fly, and she couldn’t do that if she was tethered to him.

Cal suspected she might be the best thing that had ever happened to him . . . and if he thought being tortured and cut to ribbons was painful, he had a feeling it would be nothing compared to letting her go.

Tim Dotson had driven straight through the night to get to Newton so he could check out the area and make a plan. He’d stocked up on enough pot to last several days, though he didn’t think it would take nearly that long to do what he had to do. The money the old broad offered him was too good to drag this out.

He’d met Elaine Green when she was buying coke from one of his acquaintances. Tim was what most people would probably call a hit man of sorts. He hired himself out to take care of problematic clients for many of the drug dealers he knew, including Elaine’s supplier. But mostly he just beat people up and scared the piss out of them for a small fee and a steady supply of weed.

He’d just finished a job for a particular dealer and was collecting payment when Elaine pranced into the trap house. She looked ridiculously out of place in one of the most run-down neighborhoods in the nation’s capital, but he supposed her money spent just as well as anyone else’s.

Despite appearances, she seemed totally comfortable around the nasty dregs of society hanging at his dealer’s house. Tim couldn’t help being intrigued by both her arrogance and confidence. They’d gotten to talking, and she’d told him she was buying for her daughter Carla, a model who apparently used coke to stay thin.

When she’d asked for his number to keep in touch, in case she had an emergency need for cocaine and their mutual friend wasn’t available, he’d given it to her. Tim wasn’t offended she thought he was a dealer. He liked keeping people on their toes and off balance.

She’d called him a few times over the last year or so, desperate for a hit for her daughter. It wasn’t difficult to get what she needed, to perpetuate the ruse that he was a dealer. And he added a sweet “service fee” for his trouble.

The truth was, Tim was far more skilled as a con man than anything else. Happy to be whatever someone wanted or needed . . . as long as the price was right.

To that end, Elaine had called a few days ago with an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Turned out her daughter—who sounded like a first-class bitch—was planning to marry a real-life prince, but there were complications in the courtship. Reading between the lines of her rambling story, Tim realized the old broad had tried to trick the man. She’d managed to get him to DC on the pretense that the daughter was being stalked, but the guy quickly decided that it was all bullshit. So Elaine needed to provide proof.

For his part, Tim was tasked with heading to her fancy-pants neighborhood to fake-scare the shit out of the daughter. He was preparing to do just that when Elaine called a second time.

The prince had apparently skipped town—stolen away by some dowdy stepdaughter. The flood of swear words the old bag had used was actually impressive. That’s when she told him there was a change of plans.

Elaine wanted payback.

She seemed to think that hurting the stepsister would make the prince fall madly in love with Carla or some shit. He wasn’t clear on the particulars, and personally, Tim thought the bitch was wacked. He’d been on the verge of telling her to fuck off—it was all getting too complicated for his taste—until she told him how much money she was willing to pay to be rid of the stepdaughter.

It was an offer Tim literally couldn’t refuse. The plan the old woman concocted was ridiculous, but money was money, so he was all in.

He’d immediately set out for Newton, Maine, preparing to earn an easy paycheck.

Except now that he was here, he realized it wasn’t going to be so easy after all.

Newton was the smallest town he’d ever been in. No stoplights, older houses everywhere. There was a ski resort not too far from the town, but it looked like any money it brought in hadn’t really trickled down to this backwater burg. It was quaint, quiet . . . the sort of place where everyone knew everyone else and their business.

There was no way Tim could blend in like he’d planned. Hell, he’d stopped into a burger joint to get a bite, since he’d been up for over thirty hours and was starving, and he’d been greeted with hellos from every single patron and the owner of the joint. A broad who actually went by the name of “Granny,” who had asked him a million questions about who he was, where he was from, and what had brought him to town.

He’d had to make up shit on the fly—not so easy when he was dead tired. He ended up blurting that he was down on his luck and looking for work.

To his amazement, Granny had given him three contact numbers for people who were looking to hire.

Tim didn’t like working. Hated getting up early. Didn’t care for people telling him what to do and how to do it. He liked easy money, getting laid, smoking the occasional joint, and . . . that was about it. But he needed a reason to stay in town. Taking some menial job would be great cover for the real reason he was there.

He’d thanked the woman and headed back to the house with the ROOM FOR RENT sign he’d seen while driving around and getting a feel for the place. It was a shitty-looking house, but it would be better than living in his truck.

He briefly thought about the “menu” of stuff Elaine suggested he do to the stepdaughter. She was itching to make the girl suffer. The longer he stayed to check off the items, the greater his chances of being caught and thrown in some tiny Mayberry jail.

But Elaine Green wasn’t here, and because she was kind of stupid, her idea of “proof” wasn’t exactly conclusive. She’d never know if he actually did everything he claimed.

Tim had done some shit in his life he almost regretted, but conning an old rich broad who spoiled her daughter and thought she could get away with anything would never be one of them.

He could write a note, take a picture of it hanging on his own door, and send it to Elaine. Cha-ching. A hundred bucks.

He’d punch a wall, take a picture of his raw knuckles, claim he’d robbed the bitch and punched her in the face . . . and Elaine would slide him five hundred.

He probably couldn’t get away with lying about putting the stepdaughter in the hospital, but he’d happily forgo that money to get the mother lode. Ten K for killing her? Tim was totally down. He’d never made so much money at one time, and he’d do just about anything to get it.

Maybe he could fake-stalk the stepdaughter for a short while, at least. See how many times he could bleed the mom for a hundred bucks. Getting a C-note for every fake claim of harassment would be worth staying in this hick town a few days.

It would also give him time to follow the bitch and figure out her routine. He’d strike when she least expected it, head home, and collect his money.

Smiling, Tim nodded to himself. He didn’t care about Elaine, the model, or the unsuspecting stepdaughter. All he cared about was a life of leisure. In order to avoid a real job and go where he wanted when he wanted, he needed money. If he had to freeze his ass off in Maine, he’d do it. Because the reward would be worth the effort.

The fact that someone had to die in order for him to get ten grand wasn’t even a blip on his conscience.