“Mom, I’m really busy,” Crystal parked her car at Starbucks and turned off the engine but kept the Bluetooth activated so she could finish the phone call.

“You’re always busy,” Mom answered. “You were barely home for Christmas. I just want to know when you’ll be back.”

“I know, and I can’t tell you that right now. Next month maybe?” Crystal knew that wouldn’t happen, but it would put her mother off.

“Maybe for Trent’s birthday?”

Her oldest brother was turning forty. Damn, she should try to make it back for that. “I’ll try to make that work.” She could fly in for the party and leave first thing the next morning. In and out. Easy peasy.

“He’d be thrilled.”

Crystal smiled, shaking her head. Trent wouldn’t give a shit unless she brought him a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. “Okay, I have to run.”

“Crystal, everyone here loves you, you know.”

No, she did not know. In fact, she knew the opposite. There were enough people in Blueville who thought she was lucky her life hadn’t ended up in the shitter. Some of those people were still waiting for her to crash and burn again. Not that she’d ever give them the satisfaction.

“I know you love me, and that’s all that matters. I gotta go. Say hi to Dad for me. Bye!” She disconnected just as Mom said, “Bye, dear.”

Crystal tucked the phone into her purse and jumped out of the car, locking it with the fob as she strode toward the door of Starbucks. A young guy with bleach-blond hair swept into a messy man bun held it open for her.

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

Ma’am. Her mother was ma’am, along with every other woman over forty in Blueville. Didn’t you have to at least be married to qualify as ma’am? Crystal glanced at her naked ring finger on her left hand. Like that would ever happen. She’d dodged that bullet once and didn’t plan on getting close again.

She scanned the lobby and saw her friend just sitting down at a table. She waved at Crystal, who motioned that she would grab a drink and head over. A few minutes later, tall flat white in hand, Crystal made her way to the table.

“Hey, Kim, thanks for meeting me.”

“We’ve been meaning to get together for ages!” She grinned. “This gave us a much-needed excuse, apparently.”

Crystal chuckled. “Yes, and we need to do it more often. How’s Marcus?”

“Really good.” They spent the next little while catching up.

“So tell me about this project,” Kim said, settling back in her chair and crossing her legs to the side of the table.

A moment’s panic rushed over Crystal. It was silly, but she was suddenly afraid. Or embarrassed. Or nervous. All of the above, actually.

“It’s still in the development stage, and it may suck.” Crystal leaned her elbow on the table. “It probably does suck.”

Kim pursed her lips and gave her an exasperated stare. “Stop that. I’m sure it doesn’t suck.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried anything like this. Alaina seems to think I can write a screenplay. What the hell do I know?”

Kim rolled her eyes. “We’ve been friends a long time. You’re one of the savviest people I know when it comes to scripts.”

“That doesn’t mean I can write one.”

“True, but you and I both know that most scripts are edited past the point of recognition from where they started.”

Crystal smiled. “Very true.” She finished the last of her tall white. “I’m nervous about this for another reason. It contains some controversial subject matter.”

Kim uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Oh, now I really want to hear it! Are we talking Oscar bait?”

“Maybe.” Crystal made a face. “I don’t know!” She took a deep breath. “Let me start at the beginning. Last summer, I started helping a few friends research a small town up in Oregon—where Alaina lives now.”

“Something Ridge, right?”

“Ribbon Ridge, yeah. It was founded in the mid-nineteenth century—it has a great pioneer cemetery. They—my friends—found a brick with the year 1879 and the letters BNR. It was buried near the foundation of a house that was demolished on a vineyard. That house was mid-twentieth century, but the date on the brick didn’t match that. We spent countless hours trying to figure out what BNR meant. Turns out the vineyard was once a farm called the Bird’s Nest Ranch. A young couple owned it, but the husband died, leaving the wife in a bad place. I sort of became obsessed with finding out what happened to her.”

Kim had been listening intently and now cocked her head to the side. “Why’s that?”

Crystal had thought about that and wasn’t sure she had a good answer. “I don’t know exactly. Something about her spoke to me. Maybe because she was an underdog—a woman on her own in the Wild West.” She shrugged. “Anyway, we learned that she turned the farmhouse into a brothel.” Kim widened her eyes, and Crystal nodded toward her. “The brothel burned down in 1902, and Dorinda—that was her name—died.”

Kim sucked in a breath. “That’s terrible.”

“I know. I was pretty upset about it. I’d barely begun to learn about her—I really want to know what led her to open a brothel.”

“You don’t know?”

Crystal shook her head. “My best guess is that a financial crisis drove her to it. I know things were bleak when her husband died. We’re still doing research to try to fill in the holes. We wanted to know more about the fire but had a hard time finding mention of it in any newspapers. Then my research buddy—a guy at the county historical society—found something ugly. And this is where things get really upsetting. He found a letter at another county’s historical society. It was written in 1902 from a guy to the former mayor of Ribbon Ridge who was also a Grand Cyclops in the KKK.”

Kim held up her hand. “Whoa. The KKK?”

Crystal nodded.

“That is some serious shit.”

“I know. It makes me nervous. Especially since they burned the brothel down.”

Kim swore under her breath. “The hell they did. Were there black women at that brothel? Or black men soliciting it?”

“We don’t know. The only woman’s identity we know is Dorinda, and she was white—I saw a photo of her and her husband in front of Bird’s Nest Ranch. I have no idea what sort of clientele they had.” Crystal scooted her empty cup to the side of the table and clasped her hands on the wood. “I wanted to talk to you about this project because of our friendship—if I’m going to try to sell a screenplay to someone, I want you to handle it. But your opinion—as a black woman—is also really important to me. I do not want to screw this up.”

Kim looked at her for a minute, clearly processing. She sat back and folded her arms over her chest. “Let me ask you—what’s the story you want to tell?”

“It’s Dorinda’s story in my mind. At least that’s what drew me to it. But when we found the KKK link… I don’t know. I’m not entirely sure where the research will take us.”

“Damn, controversial is right.”

“There’s also an underlying story. Oregon was founded on some pretty racist principles. I’m pretty sure most people don’t realize that. When people think of white supremacy they don’t normally think of the West Coast.”

“I’d agree with that assessment. So you’d want to tie that into the overall story? You want to say something important with this?”

Crystal nodded slowly. “I would. I think I have a responsibility to. The KKK has been a poison in our Society for well over a hundred years. It rises, it fades, and it rises again. If I could do something to help obliterate it for good, I’m all in.”

Kim uncrossed her arms and reached across the table, laying her hand over Crystal’s. “Me too.” She straightened and adopted a businesslike posture. “Okay, so you’re still researching?”

Crystal squeezed her hands together. “Yes. Darryl’s on the case while I’m here in LA. I’ll be going back up there in about ten days or so—a week from Friday.”

“Have you started writing anything?” Kim asked.

“Nothing that resembles a screenplay, just notes. Lots of notes.”

“But it sounds like you have some holes to fill.”

“Yes, but I’m also preparing myself for not finding all the answers. Darryl and I have talked about that and agree that it’s unlikely we’ll learn everything. I’ll have to take some dramatic license, but I figure I’d have to do that anyway. This is Hollywood.”

Kim snorted. “That it is. This is what I want you to do. As soon as you think you have a story in mind, dramatic license and all, I want you to write up a treatment for me. I can pitch that on its own, especially coming from you.”

Crystal blinked at her. “Really? Why am I special?”

Kim laughed. “You are so hard on yourself! You’re Alaina Pierce’s assistant and best friend! You have an eye for scripts. Even before Alaina was Alaina, you got your hands on premium material. Hell, I’d argue Alaina is Alaina because of you.”

Crystal’s heart pounded as adrenaline released through her. “That’s total BS, but whatever.”

“There you go again. Have you thought about therapy?”

“Not since my last appointment.” Crystal grinned. Which had been about six months ago.

Oops.

Kim arched her brows at Crystal. “Okay, so we have a plan?”

Crystal nodded.

“Sweet. I can’t wait to get my hands on this and share it. I know exactly who I’m pitching first.”

Crystal’s pulse sped. “Who?” She quickly held up her hand. “Nope. Never mind. Don’t want to know right now. That’ll just give me performance anxiety.”

“Good call. Let me sweat this stuff.” Kim looked Crystal in the eye with encouragement. “You get yourself an Academy Award–winning story, all right?”

Chuckling, Crystal grabbed her empty cup and her purse and stood. “I’ll try.”

They hugged before parting ways, and Crystal drove back to her home office. She didn’t remember the last time she’d felt this excited. She wanted to tell someone, and surprisingly the first person who came to mind was Jamie.

Well, that’s not cool.

Why not, her mind argued. You’ve been spending a lot of time together, and he knows all about this. Plus, he met with his mom yesterday to look at their family memorabilia and might have some news.

In that case…

As soon as she got home, she tossed her purse on the living room couch and called him up on FaceTime.

When he answered, her stomach did a little flip. He was so sexy with his longish dark hair and sizzling hazel eyes. He did that toe-curling brow arch, and his lips curled into a smile as he drawled, “Crystal. What a beautiful surprise.” His gaze locked on her, and it was as if he was seeing all of her, which of course he couldn’t right now.

She walked to the window and looked outside where a gentle rain had just started to fall. It reminded her of Oregon. “Just thought I’d call and say hi.” She suddenly felt shy. Maybe she should’ve just texted him.

“I’m glad you did. How’s LA? Much warmer than here, I’m sure.”

“Yes, about twenty degrees, but it’s still cold.” When he rolled his eyes in response, she added, “For LA. Plus, it’s raining.”

He rounded his eyes in mock surprise and slapped a hand to his cheek. “Raining?! Californians are wimps.” He chuckled, then looked past her. “Hey, is that your house?”

“It is. You want a little tour?”

“Yes, please.”

She took him around the ground floor, ending in her office, which had a door out to the back patio and the soaking pool. She sat down at her desk and leaned back in the chair. Changing the view so that he could see the room instead of her, she said, “This is where all the magic happens. ’Cause I’m a magician.”

“Ha-ha. I can think of plenty of ways in which you do magic. Is it cheesy for me to say that you’ve cast me under your spell? Ignore that.”

She turned the view back to her. “I am definitely ignoring that ridiculousness.”

“Thank God. Why didn’t you show me your bedroom? I’m feeling kind of cheated here.”

She wagged her finger at him. “Not after that horrible line you just tried to sell. Next time, lover boy. So did you go to your mom’s yesterday?”

“I did.” He leaned back in his chair—he was clearly at work. “I wish I could say I found something exciting, but no luck.”

Disappointment crested through her. “Oh, bummer. I was really hoping you’d find something.” Especially after the meeting she’d just had. She was more excited than ever to tell Dorinda’s story. “I just met with my friend who’s also an agent. She’s pretty interested in this.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great!” He smiled.

“Yep. Even though I’m bummed you didn’t find anything, I’m still going full speed ahead with Darryl. We’re hoping to find Dorinda’s family—maybe they’ll have some information.” She’d call him next to tell him her news about meeting with Kim.

“I’m not done either. I’ll see if I can’t find something out about the Stowe family.”

“Really? That would be so cool of you.” She loved that he wanted to help. “I think Darryl and I will try that avenue as well—along with looking for KKK activity in that area, regardless of when. Even if it isn’t around 1902, we can hopefully trace the participants back to the Stowes and try to piece together what happened. I just really want to know why they targeted Dorinda’s brothel. And I’d rather not make that part up.”

He leaned forward and set his phone on his desk. “You’d do that?”

“Well, if it’s going to be a movie, there has to be some motivation.”

“I guess so. And I guess true stories are dramatized all the time.”

“All the time. Anyway my agent pal was pretty stoked, so I am too.”

His gaze softened. “That’s so great. You deserve that.”

Did she? How did he know? That was something Alaina would say. Him saying it inferred he knew her well. Did he? Shit, this was maybe moving in a direction she didn’t need.

You called him, she reminded herself.

Before she could tell him she needed to go, he beat her to it.

“Unfortunately, I need to get back to work. I’ve got a call with a supplier here in a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ve got stuff to do too. Catch you later.”

“Later!”

The call ended, and she set the phone on her desk. Turning the chair, she stared out at her patio. She’d expected him to make some flirty parting comment. But he hadn’t. He’d been as ready to ditch the call as she had. Which is for the best.

Wasn’t it?

---

Jamie was in a crap mood. Today’s day trading had gone really poorly, and he was now very negative for the month. Hopefully he could recoup some of his losses over the coming week, but if not, he’d have to come up with plan B. Whatever that was.

Plus, he hadn’t talked to Crystal since their FaceTime conversation about a week ago. They’d texted a few times, but they’d both been busy. He also sensed they were both embracing the space of their separation, which was a good thing. Or so he told himself. If it was good, why did it make him irritable? Because getting laid on a regular basis was great for one’s stress level.

He silently chastised himself. She was more than that.

And now he was right back to appreciating the separation.

It was just as well he hadn’t spoken to her. He’d hated lying to her about not finding anything at Mom’s. He was afraid that if he talked to her again, he might spill the beans. Unfortunately, he hadn’t learned anything new since then. His college friend was on vacation and wasn’t due back for another few days.

Something dark scurried across the road, causing him to slam the brakes. He skidded, and his heart nearly pounded out of his chest.

“Goddammit!” He yelled at whatever wildlife had decided it was a good idea to run around in the pitch dark in nearly freezing rain. “Stupid animal!”

He took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse and started forward again. He moved slowly up the hill toward his half-brother Dylan’s house. He and Sara had invited him to come for dinner and to visit with his infant niece. Emma was ten months old and had just started to walk the day before. Dylan had proudly sent video to him, Luke, and Cam. Jamie’s enthusiastic response had netted him this dinner invite.

He pulled into their driveway and forced himself to relax. A cute baby would cheer him up.

After shutting off the engine, he dashed up to their porch and rang the bell.

Dylan greeted him a moment later. “Come on in. Wow, it’s really coming down.”

“Steady misery.” Jamie stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a rack near the door.

Dylan was already walking back toward the kitchen. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.” Jamie looked around the remodeled house. They’d finally done the dining room. He paused, looking into the nearly finished space. Looked like all they needed was molding. “Dining room looks great,” he called out before heading toward the kitchen.

Most of the rest of the house had already been redone. Everything was gorgeous and top-of-the-line, which made sense given Dylan’s successful contracting career.

Sara waved at him from the kitchen table, where she sat with Emma in a high chair feeding her dinner. “Hey, Jamie! Emma’s just finishing her sweet potatoes, then we’ll give you a demonstration.” She winked at him before going back to feeding her daughter.

Emma looked over at him, her blue eyes wide and her lips orange from the sweet potatoes. She waved a hand at him as if she were saying hello, then turned her attention back to her mother with a loud “Muh!”

“That’s her approximation of Mama,” Dylan said from behind the counter where he was opening Jamie’s beer. He lowered his voice a bit. “She’s got Dada down pat.”

“I heard that,” Sara said.

“Of course you did,” Dylan said with a smile. He handed Jamie the bottle of IPA. “Their hearing gets exponentially better after they give birth. It’s freaky.”

“You guys are such cute parents.” Jamie glanced over at his niece. “You almost make it look fun.”

“Ha! We’ve got you fooled. It’s nothing but dirty diapers and spit-up.”

“I can still hear you,” Sara said with a healthy dose of exasperation.

Dylan winked. “I kid.”

Jamie chuckled. “I said ‘almost.’”

Sara wiped Emma’s face. “You’ll get married and have kids someday, don’t you think?”

“No plans to.” Jamie sipped his beer.

Sara picked Emma up. “You’re young. You’ll change your mind. I’m taking her up for a quick bath. She’s got some business going on, and I think it’s going to require industrial cleanup.” Sara wrinkled her nose.

“The hazmat suit is hanging up in the bathroom,” Dylan called after her. She shook her head as she disappeared down the hallway.

Dylan turned to the oven and peeked inside. A waft of delicious spicy sweetness filled the kitchen. “I did some slow-roasted ribs in the oven. They’ll be ready in a bit.”

“Smells fantastic. I really appreciate the invite tonight. I was not looking forward to cooking.” Or being by himself really. He’d lived with Luke until a few months ago, and while he loved having his own place, he realized he missed having someone else around. In fact, he hadn’t noticed that until recently. Until he’d started spending time with Crystal. Now that she was gone, he felt the lack of companionship in a way he hadn’t before.

“You cook?” Dylan asked, picking up his beer from the counter.

“Sometimes. I’m probably a better bartender, truth be told.” Jamie sat at the counter. “Hey, can I run something by you?”

Dylan took a drink and set his bottle down before putting his elbows on the granite and leaning forward. “Shoot.”

“I know you and my mom aren’t close, but I need some advice.”

“Heh, I don’t know that I’ll be much help, but I do have a mother of my own, and managing them can be tricky sometimes.” Dylan’s parents had divorced quite acrimoniously when he’d been young. Each had remarried and had second families, which had left Dylan a bit of the odd man out. His relationships with both of his stepparents weren’t great, but they had improved over the last couple of years, especially since Emma had come along.

“Good way of putting it,” Jamie said. “I’m trying to manage a situation here.” And failing. “But I can’t talk to Luke or Cam about it—part of the problem is that I have to keep a secret from them. And let’s face it, your advice is worth more than theirs.”

Dylan laughed. “I don’t know about that, but thanks.”

“So you know about this history exhibit that Kelsey started up at the library?”

“Sure.”

“She and Brooke and Alaina’s friend Crystal have been doing research, specifically about the West Arch property.”

“Right.” Dylan knew all about the brick they’d found because he’d been the one to unearth it. Rather, his company. His contracting firm had demolished the existing house and built the winery.

“Did you know the farmhouse that was there became a brothel?”

Dylan nodded. “Sounds familiar.”

“It burned down in 1902, and they uncovered information that points to a KKK group as the responsible party.”

Dylan’s eyes widened. “No shit?” He lifted his elbows from the counter and straightened. “I keep waiting for you to mention where your mom figures into this, and now I’m kind of afraid to ask.”

Jamie pressed his lips together. “One of her ancestors was the mayor of Ribbon Ridge—and the leader of that KKK group.”

Dylan winced. “Yikes.”

“She went through the family memorabilia and found some letters. They confirm that the KKK group—led by her ancestor—set the brothel on fire and in the process killed a woman.”

“Was this woman of color?”

Jamie shook his head. “No. It’s the farmer’s wife that Crystal—and the others—are researching. We don’t know why they burned the brothel. We do know that one of the family members married a black woman, but we don’t know what that has to do with the fire, if anything. Needless to say, Mom is mortified by all this and doesn’t want anyone to know that her family was in the KKK.”

“Can’t say that I blame her.”

“She’s asked me not to tell Cam and Luke.”

Dylan’s eyes lit with understanding. “Because they’ll tell Brooke and Kelsey.” He slowly nodded. “I get it. And I see why you’re looking for advice. Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing. Except to talk to Dad. He’s always been a great mediator—at least for me.”

“Not just for you. Mom’s high-strung. We’ve all needed Dad’s backup from time to time.”

“Amen.” Dylan held his bottle out, and Jamie tapped his against it.

Jamie took another drink. “All right. I’ll see what Dad says. I hate keeping this a secret. It’s a big deal. And while it’s shameful, we don’t need to feel ashamed. History is history, even if it’s ugly.”

“Agreed. How shocking to think the KKK was active in Ribbon Ridge.”

“I know.”

“Hey, one other idea,” Dylan said. “What about talking to your uncle? He’s pretty cool. Maybe he can help. It’s his family too.”

“That’s a great idea. Thanks.” Jamie lifted his bottle in silent toast. “See, you are good at this.”

Dylan snorted. “I’m going to turn the Blazer game on.” He went in search of the remote as Jamie turned on the stool.

“Hey, there’s Alaina,” Jamie said, gesturing toward the TV.

Dylan stopped and looked up. “Oh yeah. Some movie premier last night. I forgot that Sara’s recording this. She usually hates these entertainment shows, but she always looks for Alaina.”

“Evan’s not with her?” Jamie asked.

“Not on the red carpet. He hardly ever does that—only important awards shows.”

Jamie wasn’t surprised. Evan Archer was on the autism spectrum, and he hated the spotlight. His marriage to one of the highest-profile celebrities in the world was the height of irony.

Standing off to the side of Alaina was Crystal. Jamie rose from the stool and took a few steps toward the TV, pausing behind the couch. She wore a formfitting bright blue gown that plunged well past her breasts, showing just enough flesh to make his mouth water. It was sleeveless and displayed her sculpted arms to perfection. Her blonde hair was pulled back into some sort of fancy ponytail. Long diamond earrings sparkled from her ears, and a matching pendant nestled between her breasts. Damn, she was gorgeous.

Suddenly, she wasn’t alone. An actor whose name totally escaped Jamie slipped his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. She laughed, her eyes crinkling in that way he loved. She splayed her palm against his chest. Her nails were impeccably manicured, and a jeweled ring curled around most of her middle finger. He couldn’t stop staring at her hand and the way it touched the man’s chest. It smacked of intimacy.

Especially when the actor’s hand didn’t leave her waist.

They moved along the carpet, and then the channel turned.

Dylan looked at him. “You weren’t watching that, were you?”

It took Jamie a second to answer. He blinked, wishing he could unsee what he’d seen. “No.”

The basketball game filled the screen, and Dylan tossed the remote onto the coffee table. He whipped his phone out of his back pocket. “Sara needs a hand real quick. Be right back.”

As soon as he left the room, Jamie pulled out his own phone and did a Google search for the actor whose name had just come back to him. He looked at images and saw him in various states of undress. Great.

He added Crystal’s name and got a handful of hits. All were red carpet scenarios like the one on the TV except one. That one was definitely them canoodling in a restaurant booth. He clicked on it and found the date—November. Before they’d hooked up on New Year’s, but that premiere on the TV was last night.

What the hell? They hadn’t made any commitments, but he’d at least thought they were monogamous. And yet they hadn’t said that either so what did he know?

Nothing, apparently.

His mood went from bad to foul. Thankfully, he’d be able to focus on a couple of proud parents and an adorable baby for the rest of the night.

And then what?

It was time to call things off with her. What things exactly? They flirted, they had great sex, they lived completely separate lives. Add in the secrets that both of them were keeping, and it was clear there was nothing to call off.