“Anywhere. Just start.”

She took a breath. “I’ve wanted to tell you this so many times these last few days.” She sat on the edge of the bed and twisted her fingers together. She stared at her hands. “I’m a Will-o’-the-Wisp.”

She looked up. “Do you know what that is? We’re a rare creature.”

He just stared at her.

“That flash of light you saw, that was me.” Her voice was quiet. Resigned. As if this conversation had been inevitable. Perhaps it had been.

“The one the other night?”

“Me too.”

He asked the question he dreaded the answer to. “And at the fight?”

Another sob escaped her throat, and she nodded, silent tears washing her cheeks. “Yes.”

The whispered answer echoed through the room like a scream.

He rocked back, unable to process more than the feelings of betrayal and anger. “Why?”

She shook her head. “I had no choice.”

There was always a choice. “You need to leave.”

She folded her hands in her lap. The tears were gone, replaced by a dull, blank look. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He turned around and limped down the stairs.

The wheels of her rolling suitcase skipped and scudded over the snowy gravel road. She hadn’t wanted to wait in the house until the Ryde driver came, and if she was going to wait outside on the porch anyway, she might as well use the time to put some distance between her and the mess she’d made.

So what if it was snowing?

She didn’t blame Van. She blamed her father. Herself too, but just like she’d told him, she’d had no choice.

If he’d exploded in rage, or broken something, or screamed at her, she would have expected all those things. Almost welcomed them. But the way he’d responded had shaken her far worse. She’d never seen such hurt in someone. The pain in his eyes had been visible like a shining light.

Pain she’d put there.

Snowflakes hit her face. She wiped at them, and her hand came back wet. It wasn’t snow. She was crying again. She was so numb it was hard to tell. Hard to care. Her movements were robotic and instinct driven, because if she opened herself up to the emotion just below that, she would collapse and die from the pain of it. That much she knew.

And maybe that wasn’t such a bad option. But not here. Not where Van would have to explain what had happened. Not where she’d only be causing him more trouble. She could hold on until she got back to Vegas, then she’d melt down. And if her broken heart and destroyed spirit killed her, the mess would be on her father’s head.

And wouldn’t that serve him right?

With that singularly buoyant thought sustaining her, she walked all the way to the main road and flagged down the Ryde driver there.

He hopped out and put her suitcase in the back of the SUV, while she took her purse, climbed in, and slumped back on the seat.

He got in and glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Where to? Your check-in said the airport, but it’s closed because of the blizzard.”

“What? This isn’t a blizzard. It’s just a little snow.”

He laughed. “Sorry, but the FAA thinks otherwise.”

She looked outside. Really looked. Everything was covered in white. Bollocks. She couldn’t go back to Van’s. “Any idea when planes will be flying out again?”

He shrugged. “Tomorrow maybe? Who knows? You still want me to take you somewhere, or you just going home?”

“I was trying to get home.”

“That’s rough.”

She thought for a moment, then came up with the only place she could think of that would probably still be open. “Take me into town. To Howler’s.”

“You got it.” He took the SUV out of park and off they went.

It was slow going. The roads weren’t plowed, but the car seemed to be doing okay. Maybe he had four-wheel drive.

She leaned against the door and stared into the swirling white beyond the window. It blurred together after a while, and her thoughts returned to what had happened. She wasn’t surprised. The truth had been bound to come out.

She just hurt so much more than she’d expected to. She sighed, and her breath fogged the glass. The pain was because she liked Van so much.

That had been a stupid thing to do. To fall for the guy she’d been sent to con. How dumb. She’d never done anything remotely that stupid ever. Not even the time her father had sent her to talk some internet billionaire into hosting his company party at the Shamrock. And that guy had been cute and wealthy.

She scowled. Van was handsome and loaded too, but that had nothing to do with why she’d fallen for him. Her feelings were about the way he’d treated her, the unexpected sweetness of his spirit, his kind soul, his generous nature, his way with animals and people, his wit, his intelligence, his fantastic body—okay, so maybe a little of how she felt had to do with what he looked like, but that was just human nature, right?

Just like it was human nature to tell yourself everything was going to be all right even when you knew that was a lie.

She sniffed and dug in her purse for a tissue. Her phone was blinking again. She’d missed a notification. She snatched it out of her handbag and checked it on the off chance it was Van wanting to talk.

It wasn’t.

And her father could get lost.

She crammed the phone back down into her purse and pulled out a tissue, wiping at her nose. Hopefully, Bridget would be there and she could help Monalisa find a place to stay until the airport opened up again. She didn’t remember seeing a hotel, but there had to be an inn or a bed-and-breakfast with a vacancy.