Seventeen

W hen Martha halted in the doorway, frowning, Anna's stomach tightened. Why was Martha nervous now ?

"The only person I could find on short notice that I'd trust is Wyatt Stone, our preferred attorney for company business. You don't know him, do you?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "How would I know an attorney at my great-uncle's company, a great-uncle I didn't know existed, in a city I haven't been to since I was a child? I'm leaning toward, no, I don't know him." Okay, so that came out more sarcastic than intended. "When's he coming? I'm ready to leave."

"It shouldn't be long. I'm kinda surprised he was available. Despite his busy schedule, he agreed without much persuasion. That's the reason I asked if you knew him. I'm going upstairs to check on Atticus. Do you need anything? Food, anything, before you leave the house?"

Had the woman forgotten she just fed her? Anna shook her head. She turned to pick up her purse, but it wasn't there. "I need to get my purse."

"Want me to walk you up to the room or have someone bring it down for you?"

"I'd like to go up and get it myself." This could be a good opportunity to study the wall of pictures again. "I want to make sure I didn't forget anything."

No need to say what she wanted to commit to memory.

"That's fine, dear." Ugh, the woman was using her sweet-Martha voice again. "I'll let Wyatt know the name of your hotel and ask him to pick you up tomorrow as well. You can enjoy a nice breakfast and speak to Atticus once he's up and alert." Martha strolled from the room.

Again, Anna followed.

Martha took a different route, possibly avoiding the kitchen. Anna tried to remember each turn with a visual marker. When the stairs were in view, she slowed. This was the family she'd never know. All families are flawed, but she'd never know if anyone in her family would've been worth the effort. She slowed her pace and stopped on each step to study every portrait. One somber man with no smile stood in a stiff, emotionless pose. His eyes glimmered, hiding a secret smile, and his attire indicated he was older than the rest and from a different era. "Who is this?"

"That's Mr. Peter Urbacch, your great-grandfather, a man of distinction and character. He came from nothing and became a prominent and successful resident of Treasure Valley. He had a magnificent home with a great deal of acreage along the Boise River. Once he passed away, Devlin convinced Atticus to sell the land, and now it's subdivided with homes in its place." Martha bit off the last part, clearly disapproving of that transaction.

Anna continued up the stairs. Martha's mood had changed, so she'd best limit questions right now. Soon, she'd have more answers. But she had family and history. This is her family tree.

She recovered her purse and headed back downstairs. Martha kept the pace brisk, ensuring Anna didn't loiter for fear of getting lost. Once they were almost there, Martha pointed to the study doorway. "If you wait in here, I'll call Wyatt and suggest he meet you in there."

Anna had pulled a book off the shelf and sat when someone entered the room. She closed the book and stood. It better be Wyatt so she could escape.

Instead, the man from the restaurant, the one who made Martha nervous, approached. Devlin? She waited for him to speak first.

"I am Devlin Alan." He outstretched his hand, his shadowed eyes meeting hers with a lingering stare.

She extended her hand. As his cold fingers clasped hers, the chill went up her arm, then raced through her entire body. As a not-so-subtle shiver jarred her, she freed her hand. "Anna Stanten."

She watched his eyes. Yes, he knew her name. Another game had begun.

"Didn't I see you at the restaurant?"

"I wouldn't know. Did you?" Did she keep her expression as blank as she intended?

A boisterous voice came from the hallway. Laughter followed. She hadn't heard joy for too long. Hurry.

She edged past Devlin toward the door, hoping her distrust didn't show.

Martha and another man came into the room, but Anna's focus stayed on Martha as the woman and Devlin shared a glance. At the restaurant, Martha had become flustered, almost anxious when she saw him, but this glance was more an invisible stare or nod of disdain.

A firm tap on Anna's shoulder interrupted her surveillance. She pivoted. Oh, wow, was this guy ever gorgeous. Muscular, with soft brown hair cropped on the sides and jagged on top, he'd used just the right amount of gel and sported a three-day beard that made him look casual and outdoorsy. And—double wow!—he smelled of sandalwood and spice.

"Hi, Anna." His killer smile made her feel like a weak-kneed schoolgirl, and her cheeks warmed as his husky voice said her name.

"Yes, I'm Anna." Duh. Way to go, girl. Her face grew warmer, so she stood up straighter and controlled her tone. "You must be Wyatt."

"Do you have your things?" He gestured to the door. "We need to get going. I have an important meeting to prepare for, and then Martha also insists I come by your hotel in the morning to pick you up."

Well, that could burst any girl's joy bubble. But why was she so disappointed? She knew the guy was playing taxi driver. She should've known he wasn't thrilled by his role.

"Now, Wyatt, I trust you, and we want Anna to travel safely."

Anna? When did Martha start calling her Anna?

"Sure. Ready, Anna?" The guy arched a golden-brown brow toward that too-perfect hair.

Rather than stumble over her tongue, Anna scurried to get her purse as Wyatt headed out the door. She followed, not that she'd follow him anywhere. But the guy knew the way out, and she'd better hurry to keep up. "Not very courteous, is he?" she grumbled, running behind Wyatt in his blue pullover sweater. Stretched over a broad back, that denim-blue knit sure looked good. Not that she'd noticed the way it brought out his intense topaz-blue eyes. No, not a bit. She felt her lips curve upward. Focus, Anna.

Huh. Even in his agitated state, he walked to the passenger side of his tall silver four-wheel-drive pickup and opened the door for her. He must've been raised in a home that emphasized traditional manners. She stretched to reach the grab bar, using the running board as a step into the cab, but she made it. Even after he settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, she remained silent, waiting for him to speak. Until she couldn't stand it.

"You seem familiar with the house."

The truck moved through the circular drive. A nearby street sign indicated Warm Springs Avenue.

Wyatt cocked his head, almost as if deciding whether she was worth his breath. Then he brushed something off his sleeve. "Not really."

That was it? That was his response? What about all that laughter she heard earlier? Where was that guy? Hadn't she had enough conflict and stress sorting through people she could trust? Right now, this guy wasn't in the trust column.

"What brings you to Boise?"

"Martha didn't tell you?" Should she tell him about the letter?

"No." He flexed his hands on the steering wheel—nice hands, strong, tapered fingers. "She just said she needed a favor and no one else was available. I have several contracts to finalize this afternoon. I was surprised she asked me, honestly."

Should she be relieved or worried that Martha trusted him?

"Well, evidently, I'm a relative of Atticus Urbacch."

Wyatt almost slammed on the brakes. " You didn't know?"

Hold up there. " You knew Atticus was my great-uncle?"

"Most people in the area know Sabina was Atticus's sister. Their father, your great-grandfather, was well respected and played a huge role in Boise's early growth. Is that why you're here—to see Atticus? Because he is ill?"

Anna rubbed her forehead. Everyone knew except her. Embarrassed to be so na?ve, overwhelmed by emotions from the day, she wanted to get out of the truck—to hide.

The hotel came into view, and Wyatt slowed and turned toward the illuminated front entrance. She fought the urge to jump out while the tall vehicle was still moving. She might've—if she didn't think she'd break a leg or worse from this silver skyscraper.

"Did I say something wrong?" He parked and raked a hand through that hair as if he didn't know how perfect it looked. "It's just hard to believe. I mean, somehow you knew to come here, to his house."

He shifted sideways, the full power of those topaz-blue eyes striking her. He really was attractive. Not that she hadn't seen attractive guys before and been immune, but something about this one drew her, almost a… a connection. If he wasn't so frustrating.

"I'm here because someone kept calling me. I also received a letter urging me to come, but only after I was injured during its delivery. Before that, I did not know I had one single relative in the entire world— not even one ."

Why had she told him all that? She jerked open her door, even as he hopped out and rushed around the front of the truck. She slid off the seat without anything embarrassing happening, said a courtesy thank you, and headed for the automatic lobby door.

She entered her dreary hotel room and dialed Martha's number. Maybe someone else could bring her to that dreadful house in the morning. She could drive herself if she had the directions. Ominous clouds hovering over a house couldn't be that difficult to find.

The call went to voicemail.

Oh well. And she'd a missed call. Dr. Garrett Clarke. That brought a toothy smile as she dropped onto the edge of the bed. He was gentle and steady. She was tired right now, but a pleasant call with the good doctor might be, well, just what the doctor ordered.

"Anna, I'm glad you called me back. I was afraid you wouldn't." Nice how he didn't try to play some type of power game.

"I just saw your missed call. I've been, um, busy." Was that the right word for a girl who'd been drugged and abducted? She puffed a pillow behind her and relaxed. "I haven't checked my phone all day. How are you doing?"

"I'm great, but I wanted to hear your voice and make sure everything was okay." Would he fly to save her from all this if she said rib? She needed a hero right now.

"I'm not sure how I am. I'm here for something with my family, and as with all families, I'm finding it more emotional than I anticipated."

"Mine can be like that sometimes too. Families are like that."

Are they? They chitchatted about nothing. It was nice. She tried to stay on the phone forever but finally said good night. Alone again. I am so lonely. Where does loneliness start, and when does it stop?

The phone kept ringing like a fire bell. She pulled the pillow over her ears and tried to ignore the sound. She didn't ask for a wake-up call, but the phone continued to ring and ring. If she didn't answer it, she'd never rest.

"Hello." Her voice sounded scratchy.

"Anna, this is your ride. I'm in the lobby. Are you ready?"

She raised her head enough to check the clock while rubbing her eyes.

"It's only seven fifteen. I was still asleep. I thought you were coming later." They'd never discussed a time. She yawned, trying to wake up, then eased onto the side of the bed, and stretched her shoulders. "If you'd give me directions, I could drive myself since it'll take me a little while."

"Not a chance." He huffed. "Listen, this is one assignment I don't have any choice on. It might come across like I don't want to be here, and I sorta don't. I mean, I have other things to do, but I have to be here. So here, I will be."

Too bad the guy couldn't see her glare through the phone. "I do need to go to the house, and I don't know where it is, although I could probably locate it by searching Atticus Urbacch online." Or looking for ominous clouds in the sky. "That being said, I'll be ready in thirty minutes. You'll see me in the lobby."

"Okay, Ms. Anna."

His sarcasm grated. She stuck her tongue out at the phone as the line went dead. Even without an audience, her face heated. Apparently, Wyatt Stone didn't bring out the best in her.

When she reached the lobby, she spotted him in an overstuffed chair, a striking mountain view behind him and the sunlight hitting him just right. Whoa, this guy was fine! A girl could immerse herself in those clear, Caribbean-blue eyes. His mint button-up and jeans fit him nicely, thank you very much. And, with such hard-to-ignore perfect hair and scruff, he could be on a stylish outdoor magazine where outdoorsy, "cool" types go to find the latest looks and activities.

"Anna, Anna, are you ready?" He frowned like she was a puzzle to solve.

"Yes, I'm ready." She strode toward the door, and he followed her.

The silver four-wheel-drive truck was waiting along the curb. Guess the place wasn't busy now if he could claim such a spot.

With a click and a clank, he swung the passenger door open, gave a gallant bow, and reached for her hand. But she waved him away, stepped up on the running board, grasped the grab handle, and swung into the vehicle.

He sent her a wink as he slid into the driver's seat and took off. "Do you remember me?"

"I do remember some things from yesterday," she snapped, then frowned. Had she met him before? The name might be familiar, but surely, she'd remember that face and those eyes. She raised her chin. "Where would I know you from?"

"When we were children, we were neighbors."

Seriously? She shifted to get a better look at him. "I don't remember you. I don't remember neighbors." Did they even have neighbors?

"We also met at the diner in Grandville."

A chill swept over her. She rubbed a palm against her forehead, just next to her eye. "I don't remember seeing you. Why would you be there, at that diner?"

"I had meetings in Houston and Austin. I missed my flight out of Houston and decided to drive a rental to Austin. I stopped at a diner along the way. The other waitress mentioned your name. Then the way you carried yourself was somehow familiar." He cocked his head at her. "You didn't notice me?"

She shook her head.

"Yeah, thought not. I hoped you'd recognize me, but then that guy pulled you off to help an angry customer. Your jerk of a boss was yelling at you. It kinda ticked me off." He waited for a response, but her voice had abandoned her. "Another waitress, bright-red lipstick and glittered nails, brought my coffee and let answers flow without a filter. She filled me in about your mother and confirmed you were the same Anna, Anastasia, I lived next to when we were young explorers on the mountain." He sent her a wistful glance. "For sure, you didn't notice me?"

"That does sound like Mr. Gray, and that had to be Sandy. She has the most outgoing personality of anyone, a dear friend." But Wyatt at the diner in Grandville? What were the odds?

"When I called my boss, Greta, about the meetings, I mentioned I ran into Sabina's granddaughter. She must have told Atticus or Martha. I mean how else would Martha have known where you were?"

Anna started picking at a cuticle, making it bleed. "Did you always know my grandmother was Sabina and my great-grandfather was Peter Urbacch?"

"Everyone knew. No one fully understood why your grandfather lost the property or why your mother lived in that older house. It was abhorrent that Atticus didn't help or reach out, but everyone knew."

Everyone knew.

"We're almost at the house. I can give you my cell number if you want." He looked at her. What did he see? Anna, the girl next door, vulnerable and all alone.

She fumbled with the phone in her pocket. "I'd like your number, just in case. Everything is kinda upside down. I'm not sure who to trust. I now know I have blood relatives, but I'm not sure I have a family."

Wyatt felt like a frozen statue, standing there watching her walk away, dreading each step. She glanced up at the sky—expecting what?

He could at least give himself credit for hesitating before pressing his foot hard on the gas and abandoning her. He'd given her his number. Wasn't that enough? He couldn't turn his truck around—miss this meeting.

But—how small she looked.

Life can be so cruel.

Sorry, Anna.