“Mia, I’d like you and Chloe to join me for dinner tonight.”
Still seething from her encounter, Mia blinked, as if coming out of a trance. She stood in the hallway before the staircase. “Dinner?”
Ophelia smiled. “Yes, since you’re staying the whole summer, it would be nice to get to know one another better. I’d also like to give you a homemade meal. It can’t be easy to eat out every night. All the other guests are out on their own, so it will be low key.”
Mia hesitated. She wasn’t up for a bunch of polite chitchat, but Ophelia seemed genuinely excited about the invitation. And Mia did like the woman’s company. Maybe it would be good for her and Chloe to have a normal evening over a meal. She’d been isolating herself too much. “I’d love to.”
“Wonderful! I’ll meet you in the back dining room in an hour.”
Mia went upstairs, informed Chloe of their plans, and began to freshen up. She needed to get Ethan out of her head and move on. She’d stay far away from that horse barn of his and keep contact to a minimum. The image of him towering over her flashed in her mind. Something strange had passed between them for a few seconds—a weird sexual attraction that was as horrifying as it was surprising. Probably the heat of her anger and a rush of adrenaline. A groan escaped her lips. Why, oh why had she slipped and said he had a sexy body? So. Embarrassing. And maybe his body was slamming, but his personality sucked, and that beard was out of control. Plus he was a ginger! She was not attracted to redheads at all. Even though he kind of reminded her of Michael Fassbender with that intriguing Irish flavor.
It was time to admit the real problem.
It had been way too long since she’d had a man in her life. She was used to polite, civilized men in custom suits that smelled of expensive bottled musk and made promises they’d never keep. She knew about smooth smiles and pretty words that hid true intentions. She lived in that world and memorized every hidden nook and cranny. She’d fallen in love or lust twice and realized the moment they’d lied when they told her she was the only one. Her gift to sniff out deceit and falsities served her well in the cutthroat world of politics, but it had eradicated her trust in her own heart. Twice, she’d been cheated on and had been unable to steep herself in denial. Twice, she’d thrown the bastards out the front door.
Unfortunately, the memory of their betrayal stayed and did a job on her confidence. Deep inside, she wondered if there was something wrong with her. Why would both men cheat so easily? In both of her relationships, they’d never even been challenged with hard times. Was she a woman who didn’t inspire a man to stick around?
She despised such weak beliefs about herself, but they still came like clockwork in the dead of night, keeping her from sleep, driving her crazy.
It was easier to concentrate on her job, go out with friends, and have fun in the city’s playground. There was always something to do to keep her body and mind active.
Here? Not so much.
Which must be why she experienced that flicker of heat with a man she didn’t like.
Dear God, she hadn’t even brought her vibrator.
Irritated from her spinning thoughts, she knocked on Chloe’s door, and they headed downstairs to the dining area. It was situated across from the main room, where guests ate breakfast, and was decorated in a more intimate, casual feel. The table was carved pine, with thick, sturdy chairs, and painted in a warm Tuscan gold. Vases full of fresh flowers were situated around the room. A gorgeous wine rack in scrolled iron climbed up the corner of the wall, holding an impressive number of bottles. Framed pictures hung on the walls and filled the sideboard countertops. One wall was taken up with an elaborate photo collage that said FAMILY. Mia wandered over and studied the pictures: A beautiful woman with long, red hair laughed into the camera, hugging two girls and a boy. A magnificent horse was in the background, looking into the camera as if annoyed he wasn’t asked to formally join the shoot.
Ophelia came in and dropped a large steaming bowl onto the hot plate. “That’s my mom,” she said, pointing at the laughing woman. “Me, Harper, and Ethan.”
“You look so happy,” Mia said. She remembered Fran’s comment about the funeral. “When did your mom pass?”
“A few years ago. Cancer.”
Like Chloe’s mom. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Better to see her out of pain. But you’re right, we were pretty happy. Growing up on a farm is an amazing experience as a kid.”
“Who’s the horse?” Chloe asked curiously.
“Patricia’s Prince,” Ophelia said. “My mom’s horse. It was our first real rescue situation that began the whole idea of a farm.”
A dark-haired, long-legged woman strolled in and jumped into the conversation. “Mom was at this farm, and she caught sight of a horse chained outside, bucking and kicking. When she asked about him, the owner said he was trouble and would be put on the next truck to the slaughterhouse. The horse was scrawny, mean, and refused to get close to anyone. Mom freaked out and asked to buy him. The guy laughed and made fun of her, but took the money.”
Ophelia took up the thread, her face animated. “So Mom manages to get the horse home—we had only one barn back then—and begins to spend all this time outside his stall, talking to him. Eventually, he stopped going nuts when she came over and let her lead him outside to the paddock. Every two hours, she’d approach the horse and try to get him to take an apple from her hand. Each time, he’d throw a tantrum and run away.”
Chloe widened her eyes. “What happened?”
Ophelia continued. “One day, she walked over and extended the treat. The horse regarded her for a long time, Mom said they stared at each other forever, and then he slowly went up and began eating the apple. Mom stroked his head and said, ‘Now, no more silliness. You’re safe here, and I’ll never make you be someone you’re not.’ After that, he’d do anything for her. Even went on to the racing circuit for a while and brought in some serious cash. Mom decided we should build more barns and create a safe place to help more horses. She had one motto.”
“What?” Mia asked curiously.
The masculine voice cut through the room. “‘Every soul—both animal and human—deserves a worthy life.’”
A short silence settled in the room. Mia’s heart squeezed at the beautiful words. “Sounds like your mother was the worthiest of all.”
Her gaze crashed with pale-blue eyes. A mixture of emotions swirled in their depths, then quickly vanished to polite distance. She cleared her throat and took a step back. Dammit, now she was stuck conversing with her mortal enemy over the dinner table. If she’d known Ethan would be here, she would’ve declined the invite. She was almost tempted to make an excuse and leave. Almost.
But she refused to let the jerk win.
She’d just ignore him.
Ethan walked over to Ophelia and gave her an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. “Thanks for cooking, Tink.”
“Ugh, I said not to call me that.”
“Sorry.” He grinned and tugged at her hair, confirming he definitely wasn’t sorry. Ophelia swatted his arm away, but she was smiling. Mia was struck by their easy, intimate relationship. He seemed so much more open around his sister. Even sort of . . . nice.
The dark-haired woman stuck out her hand. She was dressed casually in a powder-blue T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. Her face held strong, sharp lines similar to her brother’s, and her blue eyes were a few shades darker. She had a no-nonsense demeanor. “I’m Harper; I don’t think we’ve met. I handle the rescue portion of the farm and the riding.”
“Mia Thrush. Nice to meet you.”
Harper turned to Chloe. “Heard you’re impressing Ethan. Keep up the good work. We’re happy to have you.”
“Thanks. I like learning about the horses.” Mia noticed the teen’s shoulders straightened, as if she took pride in Harper’s compliment.
“Ethan said you wanted to learn to ride. How about we squeeze in a lesson next week?”
“Sweet!”
Mia turned to Ophelia. “Can I help with dinner?”
She waved a graceful hand in the air. Her pretty yellow apron contrasted with her strawberry-gold hair and gave her an almost ethereal presence. “It’s all done. Ethan, can you crack open a bottle of wine. Red or white, Mia?”
“I like both.”
Ethan grabbed a pinot noir and walked over to the sideboard. Ophelia set out a pitcher of sweet tea and filled a glass for Chloe. The table was filled with various dishes that made Mia’s stomach jump up and down in anticipation. The salad and hummus for lunch hadn’t gone as far as she liked. But this? This was insanity.
A platter of moist turkey with a boat of rich gravy sat before her. She took in the biscuits that looked moist and flaky and a bowl of crisp green beans with almonds. The tempting rich scents rose up to her nostrils and begged her to succumb.
Everyone sat down and began passing around the platters. Mia scooped a few precious spoonfuls onto her plate, mournfully gazing at the biscuits practically calling out to her. No carbs. Anything but the carbs. One biscuit could be deadly and lead to another.
“So, Chloe, what are you studying in school?” Ophelia asked, slathering butter on a biscuit and pouring a trickle of gravy over it. Mia cut her turkey into tiny pieces to make them last longer.
“Psychology.”
“Do you like it?”
The teen shrugged. “I’m stuck taking a bunch of other classes before I can take the real core courses.”
Harper laughed. “Boy, do I remember that. Art history, algebra, biology, theater, sociology, all the things you’ll never need to know for a real job.” Chloe smiled back. “But I have to admit I liked being pushed a bit. Learning things keep you from being boring and lame.”
“True,” Ophelia agreed. “I despised Shakespeare until I took a class in college. The professor was able to relate the writing in relevant ways, and suddenly, a light bulb clicked on for me. After that, I had a new appreciation for more literature.”
Chloe hesitated. “Well, I wish sometimes I could just focus on stuff like that, but I’m usually too worried about my grades.”
“Scholarship?” Ethan asked.
“No, I just—I just need As.” A touch of frustration radiated from her figure. She dragged her fork across her plate. “Most of the stuff I’m good at, but I had to take this biology course to fit into my schedule, and it was harder than I thought. The drop date passed, so I got stuck. Then the professor didn’t offer me any opportunities for extra credit or help.”
Mia regarded the girl thoughtfully. Ah, that was the class where she cheated on the exam. She seemed quite focused on As. Was she under extreme pressure to perform and panicked? Did Jonathan expect perfect grades? She made a mental note to dig further later.
Ethan nodded. “I get it. My nemesis was English. No professor was ever able to change my opinion on Shakespeare. I think Shakespeare sucks, and my grades proved it.”
Mia smothered a smile. “I despise Jane Austen novels,” she admitted.
Ophelia gasped. “Impossible. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who wasn’t in love with Austen. Even Harper swooned over Pride and Prejudice.”
“I don’t swoon over anything,” Harper said. “But Austen is a great writer.”
Mia wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, she’s way too subtle for me. It’s exhausting.”
Ethan’s deep laugh brought both surprise and a rush of warmth that flowed through her veins. Most of the time he looked like he wanted to strangle her. It was odd to think he may actually have a sense of humor.
Harper sighed. “Well, college isn’t easy, and I’m sure you’re sick of everyone always telling you to enjoy the best times of your life. First, it’s high school, then college, then dating, then motherhood. There’s always an opinion on when you should be happy. Then you feel guilty and ungrateful for not being happy. Sometimes it just is what it is, and that should be okay.”
Chloe stared at Harper as if her brain had finally clicked on an important answer. “Yeah. That’s how I feel a lot. Like everyone has these expectations for me to be a certain way.”
“Once you start just accepting what it is you really want, things get a bit easier.”
“Deep thoughts, Harp. We’re all impressed.”
“Screw you, Ethan.”
Everyone laughed. Plates were passed around for second helpings. Mia took a few more greens and savored the saltiness of the almonds, the clean snap against her teeth, the sweetness of the bean.
“Tell us about your job, Mia,” Ophelia prompted.
“I own a public relations firm, Strategy Solutions. Basically I help clients with their careers by handling social media accounts, news stories, events, and anything else that crops up. I have sports celebrities, a singer, and politicians as clients.” She glanced at Chloe, keeping quiet about her father and hoping Ethan would respect the girl’s privacy. Not that she didn’t trust Harper and Ophelia. It was just easier to keep the relationship under wraps in case any news was leaked to the guests, even in an innocent manner. She’d learned firsthand how fast gossip could spread and ruin anyone in its path just to sell a few magazines and feed the ravenous public appetite for drama.
“Sounds exciting,” Harper said. “What made you get into that field?”
She focused on her plate, trying not to stiffen up. “I believe everyone needs some help reaching their goals. In the age of the internet, with alternative facts and social media trolls, sometimes a PR representative can make a huge difference.”
“Even if they have to lie?”
Ethan’s direct question held an undercurrent of judgment. She kept her voice cool and impersonal. “I don’t lie.” She challenged him with her gaze. “In fact, I have a gift. I can spot a lie from anyone.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened. “No way.”
Ethan snorted. “Impossible.”
“Try me.”
“I will!” Ophelia grabbed another biscuit. How was the woman so thin? “How about I tell you three things, and you tell me which is the lie?”
“Perfect. Go ahead.”
Ophelia closed her eyes halfway. “Got it. I always wanted to be a singer. My hero is Walt Disney. My favorite color is blue.”
Ethan rubbed his scalp and groaned. “That’s the worst list I ever heard. Give her something hard.”
“That was hard!”
Chloe made a sound suspiciously close to a giggle. “The last one is a lie,” Mia said.
Ophelia sighed with defeat. “You’re right. It’s yellow.”
“I’ll give her a whirl,” Harper cut in. “I graduated at the top of my class in high school. I once broke a leg falling off a horse. I attended a Britney Spears concert and sang at the top of my lungs.”
Mia studied Harper’s face, then slowly smiled. “First one is a lie.”
Harper whistled. “You’re right. Pretty good.”
“Do Ethan next,” Ophelia said. “Prove to Mr. Smarty Pants you can spot his lies.”
Those baby blues gleamed with challenge. Her tummy tightened in an odd tingly sort of way as he propped his elbows on the table and smiled real slow. “Ready?” he drawled.
Ignoring her ridiculously galloping heart, she nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I got suspended for kissing Penny Ryder in the third grade. I had a few beers with the actor Scott Eastwood. I mangled up my leg in a car accident.”
Everyone seemed to hold a collective breath.
Mia let her gaze travel over his face, lingering on the slight crease of his brow, the clench of his jaw, the almost rebellious pout of his lips. He stared back in a watchful stillness, pushing her to dig deeper, dive further, and find . . .
Her voice was a whisper of sound. “That last one is a lie.”
Ophelia and Harper gave a whoop. Chloe laughed.
Ethan jerked, as if woken from a strange trance. Surprise flickered over the hard lines of his face before quickly being masked. But it was too late. She’d spotted the shred of vulnerability and now she knew.
He had secrets he kept buried from everyone.
Even himself.
The room tilted as the realization broke over her and changed everything. No wonder she’d sensed wrong when she assumed it was a car crash. What had really happened to him? Why were there so many shadows banked so ruthlessly in his eyes? And why did she want to find out so badly? Her fingers shook slightly as she laid down her fork.
“I don’t want you to do me,” Chloe stated, making everyone laugh again and break the pulsating tension.
“Who wants one last serving before dessert?” Ophelia asked.
Mia glanced at the last biscuit on the platter and put out her hand. Dessert? “No, thanks. Everything was delicious.”
Ethan rolled his eyes in pure mockery, back to his usual self. “Sure it was.”
She shot him a withering look. “What is that supposed to mean? The food was delicious.”
“You hardly ate anything. Five green beans and three bites of turkey isn’t a meal.”
Her voice chilled. “I ate a lot today. I was stuffed.”
A delighted grin broke over his face. He leaned back in his chair. “Lie. What did you eat?”
She shifted her weight in the chair, the earlier peace forgotten. Oh, how she disliked this man with intensity. Why couldn’t he mind his own business? Why couldn’t he just be polite? “Plenty of healthy things. Fruit. Yogurt. Hummus. Carrot sticks. Okay?”
“I knew it. You’re one of those women who doesn’t eat. That’s why you’re so high strung!”
“Ethan!” Ophelia admonished. “That’s not nice.”
Mia gasped. “How dare you? What I do or don’t eat is none of your business.”
“Probably not, but starving must make you kind of miserable. Nothing wrong with enjoying good food. Bet you eat processed frozen diet meals and products that advertise no fat.”
“I don’t!” She only ate the frozen meals when she was forced to.
He scratched his chin and regarded her. Then chuckled. “Lie. Hmm, maybe I’m good at this game, too.”
Ophelia glared at her brother. “There’s a lot of reasons people don’t eat. Mia, I’m so sorry. Just ignore him. Lord knows he can eat whatever he wants without gaining a pound, so he assumes we can all gorge on desserts.”
Harper snorted. “Yeah, that was messed up, dude. You should just respect her decisions. No wonder she doesn’t like you.”
In that moment, Mia saw the looks on their faces and almost groaned. Of course, they believed she had an eating disorder, which was a sensitive subject. Her friend in high school had suffered from bulimia, and it had been tough watching her struggle. It took a lot of therapy for her to get healthy.
Ethan seemed to realize his error, pulling back in slight horror. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“I don’t have an eating disorder,” she said quietly. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she added, cutting a glance at Ethan. “But note to self for the future: don’t share your opinions on a woman’s food choices.”
“Noted,” he said gruffly.
Chloe tittered. “Mia, Ethan made a point, though. I never see you eat.”
“If you must know, I’m trying to squeeze into a very expensive Gucci dress for an important event. I need to be careful.”
“Maybe you should just buy another dress and treat yourself to some real food while you’re here,” Ethan threw out. “You’re a size six already, for God’s sake. Nothing wrong with food made with real cheese and milk and sugar. At least it has no additives and fake products that have no nutrients.”
“I did read on the internet how whole milk, real butter, and even ice cream is good for you in moderation,” Chloe offered.
“Did you try the biscuit?” Ethan asked. “Ophelia makes them homemade. When was the last time you had carbs?”
Even the word made her knees shake with longing. Irritation skated across her nerve endings. Damn him. Why did he always have to stir stuff up? “A while,” she said with a grunt.
He grabbed the last biscuit, split it in half, and smeared a touch of butter over the inside. Real butter. Not the pretend kind. A tiny puff of steam rose from the dough. Suddenly, her mouth was full of drool. “Here. Just eat half and enjoy it.”
She gazed at the weapon of mass destruction. “If I eat the damn biscuit, will you leave me alone?”
“Yes. For now.”
“Fine.” She grabbed it and took a bite. Then tried desperately to hide the orgasmic feeling of pure pleasure seizing her body. “Are you happy?”
“Yes. You’re too skinny.”
“I think you look beautiful,” Ophelia defended. “I’m surprised at you, Ethan. You came straight from an industry that puts a lot of stock in a small-size designer dress. Why are you picking on her?”
“What do you mean?” Mia asked, mouth full of heavenly goodness. Oh God, it was so good, she was sweating. “What industry?”
“Ethan was a bodyguard in Hollywood. He protected movie stars and stuff. He knows firsthand how crazed we get about our weight and what the industry calls out as fat or skinny in today’s world.”
As another juicy bone from his past fell out of the closet, Mia found herself greedy for more. Ethan had lived a very different life than she’d originally thought. Maybe there were more layers underneath to reveal.
“Is that where you got to hang out with Scott Eastwood?” Chloe asked.
Now he was the one who looked uncomfortable. Good. Payback is a bitch. He seemed to gather himself together before answering. “Yep. Attended a whole bunch of those glitzy parties, where the media picked apart how they all looked, throwing the term fat around without caring what damage it did. I’m tired of watching women do that to themselves when every damn man you line up will tell you the truth: we like our women big, curvy, small, petite, tall, short, and every way in between. Wanna know what makes a woman really hot? If she’s real and healthy and happy. Not the size dress she fits into.”
Mia was struck speechless, the last of the biscuit crumbs still lingering on her lips. She’d dated men before who gave her pretty words on how she didn’t have to diet, but they were the first ones to raise their brow when the waiter offered dessert. They were the ones who pointedly gazed at a curvy female and shook their head slightly, as if sympathetic for her plight. In her heart, she never believed them, and she had been right.
But she believed Ethan Bishop.
It radiated from his very aura, rang from his words still echoing in the air. In that moment, she believed he’d appreciate a woman in all aspects, especially naked, out of her designer dress, vulnerable to his gaze.
He’d make her feel like a queen.
Her cheeks flushed at the thought. Dear Lord, what was happening to her? She intensely disliked him!
“That’s lit,” Chloe said. “I know some girls at school who torture themselves by starving to get thinner.”
“Agreed,” Harper echoed, sharing a smile with the teen.
“On that note, I’m going to fetch the apple pie,” Ophelia said. “But no pressure, Mia. It is homemade organic crust, fresh apples, cinnamon, sugar, and a few secret spices. Just to tempt you.”
Chloe’s phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen. “I need to take this,” she mumbled, getting up from her chair. “Be back in a few.”
Harper rose. “I’ll put on some coffee.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Ah, crap.
Refusing to be intimidated, Mia crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked him dead in the eye. “How’d you really hurt your leg?”
“You’re not going to eat that pie, are you?”
She pursed her lips. Considered. “Why do you want me to eat it?”
“’Cause it’ll put you in a better mood.”
She couldn’t help it. A smile threatened. As much as he was a pain in the ass, he kept her consistently engaged with his banter. “You won’t be around me much,” she pointed out. “I’m barred from your barn.”
“I dare you to eat the pie. A decent slice. Even the crust part.”
She leaned over the table, resting the tips of her fingers together. “And if I don’t take your ridiculous dare?”
He shrugged. “You miss out on pie and I know you don’t have grit.”
Her brows shot up. “Grit? Are we trapped in some old John Wayne movie, horse man?”
“Eat the pie, and I’ll tell you what happened to my leg.”
She pretended to consider. “I also want free access to the barn whenever I want. And no more yelling at me. You be civil at all times.”
He gnashed his teeth together. “Hell no.”
“Then I don’t need the pie.”
A grumpy frown creased his brow. He muttered a curse. “You can visit my barn, but if you do something stupid again, I get to yell.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. He was way too easy. She’d devour him whole in a business negotiation. Now she got to go where she wanted, had learned the truth, and would have a delicious piece of pie. “Fine. You win.”
Ophelia and Harper came back and set the pie on the table.
Her mouth practically gaped open.
The crust was so high on top, it practically rose to a whole foot. Apples oozed out of the corners of the crust, and the color was a toasty brown. She bit her tongue to keep from moaning out loud. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’d have to torture her first. “Looks good,” she said casually.
Ethan grinned knowingly.
Plates were doled out. Chloe came back, adding a scoop of ice cream to hers and chattering with Harper about the rescue horses and what was involved. Ophelia excused herself to take care of a guest.
And Mia ate her pie.
It wasn’t easy. She gathered all her forces to swallow each delicious bite without shaking in pleasure. Under the table, she squeezed her thighs together with merciless brutality and fought for focus. The rich flavors danced on her tongue with sheer abandon, coursing through her body like wildfire.
And the bastard watched her through every heavenly, torturous bite. Studied her face, delved into her eyes, devoured each flitter of expression that leaked out. It was one of the most intimate exchanges she’d ever experienced with a man. Every bite forked between her lips made her knees quiver and prickles of heat skip over her skin. Her panties dampened. Finally, when the last bit of crust had been consumed, she slowly put her fork down on her plate with slightly trembling fingers.
Gathering the last of her strength, she lifted her chin and stared at him with haughty demand. “Done.”
His voice lowered to a husky pitch. “Was it good?”
She licked her lips. Those blue eyes focused on the action with pure greed. Her heart skipped in a mad beat, and the air suddenly buzzed like a wild live electrical wire that got dropped under water. She could barely drag in oxygen. “It was okay.”
Oh, his smile was smug and sexy and wicked. Her nipples tightened and pushed against the thin silk of her top. Longing spilled through her for . . . something. What was happening?
“Lie,” he whispered.
Her fingers itched to touch his hair. The ginger strands were thick, tousled, and glowed almost gold in the lamplight. She focused on the task at hand. “Now tell me how you hurt your leg.”
His face changed. The connection broke like a cord ripped away, writhing and twisting on the floor. He stood up from the chair and headed toward the door. “Thanks for dinner, Ophelia. Chloe, see you tomorrow.” He gave her a curt nod, like they never experienced that mind-blowing chemistry over the dinner table or made a bet that seethed with undercurrents of meaning.
She shot to her feet. “Hey, you owe me the truth. That was the bet.”
He turned toward her. A smile tugged at those luscious lips. What would his face be like without that beard? Would his skin be rough or smooth? What were the true shape of his lips and jaw?
“I said I’d tell you. I didn’t say when.”
Her eyes widened. “You cheated!”
“You didn’t specify the details of the terms. I would’ve thought better of you, princess. You work in PR.”
And with a mocking wink, he walked out of the inn, whistling.
The bastard was whistling.
He was so going to get his.