Rory Albertini was something to look at. He was over six feet tall with piercing blue eyes, a chiseled face, and thick, black hair. Yet his smile always got her. His upper lip quirked to the right in amusement and something else—something all Rory and dangerous. Mischievousness danced in his eyes until he turned intense, and then it was an altogether different look.
She put her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?”
“Oh, man.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. We had a forest fire over in Montana. I was with Quint. He stayed to finish the eastern quadrant, but he should be back in a few days.”
The lie was a slam to the solar plexus with a beefy fist. Or maybe a bat or anvil. She took another step back. Her mother’s second husband had lied and cheated, and he’d been good at it. He’d also been very handsome and charming…like Rory.
“You lied to me,” she said, her voice shaking, her world crumbling.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he studied her face as if reading every thought she’d ever had. He didn’t ask how she knew. He didn’t inquire about what investigation she’d conducted. He just looked into her eyes and saw the truth—yet another of his impressive gifts. His hand dropped and the flowers brushed his leg.
* * *
“You need to leave,” she spat. “I don’t care who you were with. It’s over.”
“I wasn’t with anybody.”
“Whatever. We’re done,” she said.
He sighed, his chin lowering. “Listen, I’m not supposed to tell anybody this, but you have a right to know since we’re getting married. I don’t work for the forest service.”
“No shit, Rory,” she burst out. His lips twitched as if he were trying not to smile. Her temper grew.
“I work for the CIA, sweetheart, and I have since I graduated college. The forest service is a front, and search and rescue is just a hobby.”
Her mouth gaped. “That’s the biggest line of baloney I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s true,” he argued. “I’m not seeing somebody else, and I haven’t been off doing anything illegal. I work for the CIA. Very few people know.”
She had to lock her knees to remain standing. “You’re lying.” But was he? All of a sudden, so many things made sense. The weird phone calls, fast trips, and his easy slide from lighthearted to serious right before he left. “Is it dangerous?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Sometimes, but I’m good at my job,” he said evenly. “I knew we’d have to discuss this eventually, but I didn’t want to do it quite yet.”
Betrayal cut through her, even though she actually believed him. And yet…why should she? He was an excellent liar. “You lied to me so easily.” She shook her head. “I had no clue.”
“I’m good at it,” he admitted. “It’s part of my job.”
She flashed back to all the times her stepdad had lied to her mother. Often. “When were you going to tell me?” Their wedding was only weeks away.
“I don’t know. I was waiting for the right time.”
Her body jolted. “Like after we got married?”
“No, I would’ve told you before.” He didn’t sound sure.
She took that final step away. “We’re done, Rory. You need to leave.”
As usual, he didn’t pause; instead, he went right into solving the problem. She had noticed that throughout their relationship. If there was an issue, Rory immediately figured out how to solve it—and he usually did. No hemming or hawing…just fixing.
“Listen, I understand you’re angry, and you have every right to be. You need some time to digest this. I tell you what... I’ll give you till Christmastime, maybe New Year’s Eve, which we both know is your favorite time of year, and then we’ll get re-engaged. We’ll just move the wedding to the spring.”
“Excuse me?” She bowed up. “I am not giving you any more of my attention in this lifetime.”
He was so handsome it hurt to look at him. Then he opened his damn mouth again. “Yes, you are, sweetheart,” he said. “Come on. We’re meant to be together.”
“Get out, Rory. You ghosted me, and now you need to stay gone.” She yanked off the ring, the one she loved, and threw it at his face. The diamond hit beneath his eye, and a drop of blood slid down his angled cheek. With that, she slammed the door in his face. She had to get out of the dress before she burst into tears. Then she could cry.
Because it was definitely over.
Chapter 1
As red daisies went, the flower was a little wilted.
Frozen, shrunken, and stuck to Serenity’s windshield, the perennial had already lost several narrow petals. Besides being a sad bloom out of season, it was the final fucking straw.
She yanked bloom free, tearing the frozen green stem from beneath her windshield wiper. Enough was enough.
The late-December wind slithered through her thick jacket, freezing her neck, but she didn’t feel the cold. Instead, heat suffused her, filling her with a boiling temper she rarely let loose. Turning, she stomped across the icy sidewalk to the long, metal building that had served as the lone hardware store in Silverville for nearly a century. Her boots had traction and were the best they stocked, so she barely slid across the smooth ice. Even through her anger, she made a mental note to scatter both gravel and ice remover before the temperature dropped again.
“Hey, boss.” Earl MacIntosh finished organizing the new red shovels by the front door, artfully arranging them around the remaining Christmas decorations, now discounted to fifty percent off. He’d worked at the business for nearly seventy years, starting as a cleanup kid after school. His shoulders stooped from age, but since he’d started at around six-foot-eight, he was still taller than anybody she knew. “How was lunch?”
She’d walked to the diner to meet a friend, not thinking her mysterious stalker would blatantly leave another flower on her car in the middle of the day. “Delicious. I ordered the smash burger.”
“You look angry.”
Darn it. She’d been trying to hide her ire. Figured. Even though she’d inherited her dark hair from her Grandpa Fiazzi, her skin was all Irish from her mom’s side. So, when she blushed, she freaking blushed. “I found another flower just a minute ago.”
Earl leaned on the handle of a shovel, his bushy, dark gray eyebrows rising. “I thought the first few were kinda romantic. But when does romantic extend to creepy?”
“Around flower number six, and this is number thirteen,” she said, automatically glancing around to ensure everything was in place. Christmas music still droned from the invisible speakers, and she made a mental note to update the streaming channel. “Oh, good. The new snowblowers made it. Finally.” The supply chain problem was killing her, and they were having a heck of a winter. Shovels and snowblowers had been tough to come by. Now, she was stocked. Finally.
Earl’s faded brown eyes narrowed. “Do I need to kick some butt?” Even at his age, his shoulders were broad, and his arms toned. He had the body of a farmer, and there was no doubt he could inflict damage if necessary. Even if he weren’t such an impressive force, she would’ve taken him seriously. He deserved respect.