Forsaken Trail Read online

  Most of the greenery was overgrown from the summer. During my vacation, I’d remedy that with a few hours of trimming and pruning. Clara’s only requirement for me when I’d added all of the greenery had been maintenance. She’d water but that was about it.

  I put the Cadillac in park, and before I could step out, the front door to Clara’s house burst open and Gus came racing my way.

  “Aunt Aria!”

  His dark blond hair had grown some since our last FaceTime. His legs looked longer, his face fuller. I’d blinked, and my nephew had changed from a toddler to a boy. He had a dust streak on his cheek and grass stains on his bare knees. He grew too fast.

  “Hey!” My heart leapt as I climbed out of the car. I bent, bracing for impact, and scooped him into my arms when he came crashing like a wave. “Oh, I missed you.”

  “Where’s my present?” He squirmed out of my hold, taking in the car.

  “August,” Clara scolded, coming out the door.

  “It’s okay.” I waved it off and took in my beautiful sister. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She, like her son, came rushing into my embrace. “We went too long this time.”

  “I know.” I squeezed her tighter.

  Normally, we planned five to six visits in a year. Seven if I was lucky. But going four months without seeing them was too long. Work might have kept my mind and body busy, but my heart had paid the price.

  A mistake I wouldn’t make again.

  Clara and August were my only family. We needed each other.

  Today maybe more than yesterday.

  Clara’s nose was red and her cheeks splotchy. Her pretty brown eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle and her shoulders slumped low. She’d trapped her blond hair in a loose ponytail, the ends hanging limp over one shoulder.

  “You don’t look good.”

  “I don’t feel good.” She shrugged and ran a hand over the gleaming hood of the car. “Wow. Look at this thing.”

  “A beauty, isn’t it?”

  “I can’t believe it’s here. That it’s my turn.” She smiled and stroked the car again. “I love this whole handoff thing.”

  Clara was a romantic. As teens, she’d buy romance novels for a dime at the thrift store and stay up late reading under the glow of a flashlight. I suspected I’d find a stack of them beside her bed, or a well-stocked Kindle, when I tucked her in for a nap this afternoon.

  We’d taken care of each other for the past twenty years. Longer, really. Since our parents had died. We were thirty years old, but that wasn’t going to stop me from pampering her while I was here. She’d do the same for me.

  “You can gush over the car later. First, we unload. Then, we do presents.”

  “Yes.” Gus did a fist pump.

  “And after that, you’re taking a long, hot bath followed by a long nap.”

  Clara gave me a sad smile as exhaustion clouded her pretty face. She looked like she was about to cry.

  “What? What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just really tired.”

  I pulled her into my arms again. “Then we’ll make sure you get lots of rest.”

  She collapsed onto my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too. We both need a vacation, even if yours is at home. No work. Fun only. Just the three of us.”

  “About that. There’s sort of been a change of plan.”

  I let her go and narrowed my eyes. “What change?”

  The whirl of tires and the hum of an engine filled the air before she could answer. A shiny black Jaguar came down the driveway and my heart dropped.

  No. That son of a bitch Brody Carmichael was going to ruin my vacation.

  “He’s supposed to be gone.” If he dared encroach on my time with Clara, I’d sneak poison ivy into his bed.

  “It’s not his fault.” Clara sighed, quick to defend her boss.

  “Did his private plane not have enough spiced cashews for his liking? Surely he can afford jet fuel.”

  The second-best part of this week, besides Clara and Gus, was Brody’s scheduled absence. Clara knew there was no love lost between me and her boss, so she’d suggested travel dates that coincided with his vacation.

  Yet here he was, parking a car that likely cost more than all of my worldly possessions combined.

  Brody parked behind the Cadillac and stepped out of his car, sliding the sunglasses off his face. He wore a navy suit tailored to perfection around his broad shoulders and long legs. In the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him in anything but a suit. Did he not own jeans?

  “Brody!” August raced over, holding up a hand for a high five. “Aunt Aria is here. We’re gonna open my presents.”

  “I see that.” Brody’s lips turned up in a smile. Barely.

  If the man ever learned how to deliver one properly, actually show some teeth, he’d be devastating. Especially with the dark, trimmed beard he’d grown a few years ago. It gave him a sexy edge. Or it would have, if his perpetually sour mood wasn’t such a major turnoff.

  He definitely, definitely didn’t turn me on. Oh no.

  Broderick Carmichael was enemy number one.

  One day I hoped to convince Clara to quit her job with Brody and join me in Oregon. The only flaw in my plan was that she loved her job. She loved her boss.

  My beautiful, loyal sister had been duped by the devil.

  “Hey.” Clara waved at Satan incarnate. “How was the flight back?”

  The flight back? From where?

  “Fine.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to stop by and see how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m good,” she lied.

  “She’s sick,” I corrected. “And she’ll be spending the weekend recuperating.”

  His jaw clenched but he didn’t respond. He simply gave Clara a nod. “Call me if you need anything. See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be ready,” she said.

  Without another word, he ruffled August’s hair, then got in his car and disappeared.

  I turned on my sister. “Um . . . ready for what?”

  “It’s nothing. Just a work thing. And I don’t have the energy to get into it right now, so how about presents and that nap you mentioned?”

  If not for her cold, I would have insisted on answers. But I’d gotten pretty good at ignoring Brody’s existence, and Clara deserved a break.

  So I did exactly what I’d promised. I hauled in my things and we both cheered as August opened his gifts. With their living room littered with wrapping paper, I put her to bed and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening entertaining Gus before it was time to put him to bed.

  With him tucked in bed, I did the same for my sister, who’d roused around dinner.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She snuggled into her pillow. “Thanks for watching him.”

  “My pleasure. Now sleep.” I kissed her forehead. “See you in the morning.”

  She was snoring by the time I eased out of her room and closed the door.

  The fading evening light drew me outside to her deck for a few moments alone. I’d stolen Clara’s Kindle and uncorked a bottle of wine. As I settled into a lounge chair, I tipped my head to the heavens.

  Stars twinkled like diamonds in the midnight sky. There wasn’t a breath of wind. In Oregon, even from my place in town, there was the constant whisper of the ocean’s waves. Not here. There was nothing but the occasional screech from a hawk or the scrape of a lizard’s claws on a nearby rock.

  From my seat, I had the perfect view of Brody’s home. It stood dark and endless. The only light came from the second-floor balcony. Maybe if I was lucky, he’d get Clara’s cold and be bedridden for a couple weeks.

  A girl could hope.

  I’d unlocked the Kindle’s screen, ready to dive into the tale of a pirate and the fair maiden he’d kidnapped at sea, when something caught my eye.

  Brody emerged onto his lit balcony, wearing only a towel wrapped around his narrow hips.

  Even from this
distance, the definition of his hard stomach was impossible to miss. As was the plane of his wide, bare chest dusted with dark hair. Brody’s arms were ropes upon ropes of muscle.

  My breath hitched. My pulse quickened. Damn you, Brody Carmichael. Why couldn’t he be ugly? It would be so much easier to hate him if he didn’t elicit such a strong physical reaction. Undoubtedly, when I dove into my novel, Brody’s face would be the pirate’s.

  His sixth sense must have prickled. One moment, he was leaning, arms braced, on the balcony railing. The next, he stood straight, his hands fisted at his sides, and faced my way.

  I gave him a little finger wave and a glare.

  I got nothing in return. As quickly as he’d come outside, he vanished inside his concrete castle.

  The bastard was probably annoyed that I was here to steal Clara’s attention. Whatever. These were my two weeks with her. Mine. I was here now, and the loneliness had begun to fade. The well wasn’t bone dry.

  Four months apart had been too long. Maybe it was time to push harder for a change. Maybe it was time to open my mind to a change of my own.

  Clara needed help with August. I simply needed Clara and August. There was a weight on her shoulders that hadn’t been there in June, and it had nothing to do with her cold. She was here, working alone. Living alone. Parenting alone.

  Enduring alone.

  Our lives had been harder than they should have been, harder than my parents had planned. We’d walked a rocky, rough road.

  Maybe it was time to switch directions. To forge a beaten path.

  And find out if there was a rainbow waiting at the end of my forsaken trail.

  Chapter Two

  Brody

  “How long will she be here?” I asked Clara.

  I stood at the floor-to-ceiling-window wall in my office that overlooked the property beyond the house. The office was adjacent to my bedroom, and from here I could see Clara’s backyard and deck. I’d designed it that way, wanting to give her privacy but be close enough in case of an emergency. I’d wanted a line of sight.

  I was regretting that decision. Just like I had last night when I’d come out for a quiet minute alone, only to realize I hadn’t been the only one seeking a moment of solitude.

  She had taken over Clara’s deck. Last night. Today. She’d brought the old Cadillac. Wasn’t it time for her to scurry on back to Oregon?

  Outside, Aria was stretched on a chaise with August tucked into her side. The two of them were reading a book, the boy eating up her every word. Her toned legs stretched long to her bare feet. She’d sat in exactly the same chair this morning, painting her toenails.

  “Two weeks.” Clara sniffled, her voice thick and raspy. “I’m not sure why you’re asking me a question when you already know the answer.”

  I frowned. “Because I was hoping the answer would change.”

  “Don’t.” She sighed. “Please. I don’t have the energy to play referee.”

  “What a fucking disaster,” I muttered.

  Not only had my grandmother’s phone call completely disrupted my plans for the next two weeks, forcing me to cancel the trip I’d planned for a year, but now I’d have to be around Aria Saint-James for the next two weeks.

  “She’s my sister, Brody,” Clara said. “She’s welcome here. And if you make her feel unwelcome, then I’m moving.”

  “You can’t move.” I spun away from the glass. That was the first time she’d ever made that threat, and I didn’t like how serious it sounded. “That’s your house.”

  “No, it’s your house. I just live there.”

  “Semantics. You’re not moving.”

  Welcome was a safe community with good schools. Selling her on the move here hadn’t been difficult for those reasons. Plus a new home with state-of-the-art security. She belonged here. If that meant I had to play nice with the sister, so be it.

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.” I feigned a bow.

  “Good. This is an important trip for Aria. I haven’t seen her in months, and she’s going through something.”

  “What something?” I asked, forgetting that I didn’t care.

  “I don’t know.” Clara dug through the pocket on her hoodie, pulling out a wad of tissues. “She hasn’t told me anything, but I can feel it.”

  Clara and Aria were fraternal twins, similar physically but each with their own unique traits, yet they had a bond like nothing I’d seen before. Their link was one I’d never understand but it existed like the walls, ceilings and floors of this house.

  There were days when work was so stressful that Clara reached her wits’ end—Aria would always call. There were days when Clara would excuse herself in a meeting—she just had to text Aria. It was like they had a direct tap into each other’s moods and knew when the roller coaster had hit a low.

  “Can we talk through the plan for tonight? The pilot will be ready to take off any time after five. What time do I need to be ready?” Clara put the tissues to her nose and blew hard. A snot bubble escaped the edge.

  “Hell. You can’t go tonight.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “You’re not going. You look awful.”

  She pulled the tissues away from her face. “Gee. Thanks. I hope you don’t say that to your real dates.”

  “You know what I mean.” I walked to the bathroom off the office and rifled through the cabinet until I found a fresh box of tissues. Then I brought them out to Clara where she’d collapsed on the couch, curled into the fetal position. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She clutched the box to her chest, her eyelids so droopy she couldn’t keep them open.

  “Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll go solo tonight.”

  “No way.” Clara pushed herself up with a grunt. “I’ll be fine. I just need a nap and a shower. Then I’ll be good to go.”

  I sat beside her. “Sorry, but you’re not coming. Boss’s orders.”

  “Ha.” She laughed, which turned into a fit of coughs. “Since when do I take my boss’s orders?”

  “Fair point.”

  Clara relaxed, her body sagging toward mine. I put an arm around her shoulders and held her before she could collapse onto the floor.

  It was rare for us to hug. Was this a hug? Clara hugged everyone she knew but I wasn’t really the hugging type. But I considered her a friend. A best friend. Or . . . the closest thing I had to a best friend. Did it count when you paid them?

  Probably not.

  Such was my life. Nannies. Tutors. Chauffeurs. Chefs. All had been friendly. In the early days, I’d confused their smiles and affection for love. But they’d understood what I hadn’t as a child.

  When the kid was happy, you got to keep your job.

  Me being the kid.

  After any of the employees assigned to my care had quit or left the Carmichael estate for other opportunities, I’d never heard from them again.

  The same would be true with Clara. If she quit and left here, I wouldn’t hear from her again.

  Finding another assistant like her would be impossible. She had years of experience on my staff. She was organized and efficient. She knew the boundaries between personal and professional. She pushed when necessary but didn’t cross the line in the sand.

  And she was nice. I liked Clara. She was an easy travel companion. August was a cool kid. I hadn’t been around many children, not even when I’d been a child, but he was funny, bright and polite.

  Clara was not moving.

  I simply wouldn’t allow it.

  “You should go home,” I said. “Get some rest.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Clara?” I bent, taking in her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was hanging open. She’d fallen asleep.

  “Clara.” I gave her a little shake.

  “What?” She jerked awake, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Go home.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and paused, summoning the strength to stand.

  “Her
e.” I threaded my arm under hers and hoisted us both up to our feet. “Can you make it home?”

  “Yeah.” She slipped free and shuffled across the room, then stopped beside the door. “What time did we decide?”

  “No time. You’re not going.”

  “Brody, you shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I can handle this.” My family’s functions were like swimming with sharks, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d jumped in the water alone. Yes, a date would have been a nice buffer. But it wasn’t worth making her miserable.

  “You need—” She sneezed, which made her cough. The cough led to a fresh glob of snot shooting out of one nostril. She dove for a tissue, blowing and wiping.

  My God, she looked awful.

  “You need a date,” she said.

  “I’ll go alone.”

  “Brody, I’ll be fine. I can go. I have the dress and everything. It’s the least I can do.”

  “You’re miserable.”

  “I’ve survived worse.”

  She’d survived too much. Occupational hazard of working so closely with each other. Clara knew about my life. I knew the vague details of hers. She was more tight-lipped about her childhood, but I’d been in the front row during the struggles she’d overcome in Las Vegas. Namely, August’s father.

  If I couldn’t be spared from tonight’s spectacle, I could at least save Clara from the same fate. “It’s a wedding. I’ve gone to weddings alone before.”

  “And you hated every minute. This isn’t just any wedding.”

  No, it wasn’t. Tonight, my ex-fiancée was marrying another man. The woman I’d once cared for was marrying my younger brother.

  “Please, don’t go alone. Otherwise . . . oh, never mind.”

  “Otherwise I’ll look sad and alone and pathetic.”

  She blew her nose. The honk was a resounding yes.

  I’d planned to be blissfully absent from the wedding festivities, lounging on my favorite beach in Fiji. Except one phone call from Grandmother and I’d been summoned to attend. No exceptions.