The Bluff (Calamity Montana)

“ARE YOU SURE?” Hux asked.

“Of course.” I widened my smile, hoping to disguise how badly I wanted to escape this house. “You two should have some time together. Alone.”

Hux sighed, then picked up his truck keys from the counter, handing them over. “It’ll get easier.”

“I know it will. But you guys should do something together today. It’s a Saturday. Take her out to lunch or a movie or something.” I didn’t care what they did as long as I had a break.

I clutched the keys so tight the metal dug into my palm. But these keys were my ticket to freedom, and I wasn’t giving them back until I had at least five hours away from Savannah.

Talk about a difficult child.

Why had I thought we’d gel together like a happy family? Clearly, my head had been in the clouds.

It had been two weeks since the incident with Chase. The asshole hadn’t shown his face around our house again, but maybe he was still in Calamity. Chase was as good as dead to Hux. If Hux knew of Chase’s whereabouts, he hadn’t mentioned it.

Just like he hadn’t mentioned my panic attack either.

That day, he’d held me tight until I’d fallen asleep. When I’d woken up, he’d been there with so much concern in his eyes it had only made it worse. He’d seen me break. He’d seen me crumple. Maybe we should have talked about it, but I’d asked him to let it go. He had.

No discussion.

Not a word.

I’d channeled my energy into readying for Savannah’s first stay. Maybe I’d been burying my fears, pretending that everything would be fine. Everyone had their coping mechanisms and preparing this home for a sixteen-year-old had been mine.

The couch where Chase had slept had been deep cleaned. Any surface that he may have touched had been thoroughly scoured and sanitized. Then I’d spent a day in Savannah’s bedroom, making sure it was fresh and bright with new white bedding and a vase of pink roses on her nightstand.

When Hux had gone to pick her up from April’s, I’d been so excited. So ready. So hopeful.

So idiotic.

Savannah had taken one look at the flowers and muttered, “Ugh. I hate pink.”

Said the girl wearing a magenta tee beneath her black hoodie.

I’d ignored it and moved on, thinking she just needed a little time to settle in and loosen up.

Seven days later, I wanted to pull my hair out and scream. Savannah hadn’t given an inch. She wasn’t as hostile to Hux—for her father, she gave him the occasional smile and actually made eye contact when she was speaking to him. Every glare, eye roll and muttered sarcastic comment was saved for me. The stepmother.

How could she hate me so much? How could we go through what had happened in the farmhouse and come out enemies? My only crime against Savannah had been to marry her father.

Oh, the irony. This marriage was part of the reason she was even here in his home.

My artificial cheer was beginning to fade and before I snapped, it was time to get some space.

“See you tonight,” I told Hux, then made my break for the garage.

“Ev?” He stopped me before I could disappear.

“Yeah?”

The worry etched on his handsome face cracked my heart. “You good?”

“Great!” Too much force. I dropped my gaze, unable to look into those blue eyes and hold it together.

Hux was slipping. He was letting emotion show. And that wasn’t who we were, was it?

We didn’t worry for each other. We didn’t care or compliment. We didn’t depend on each other.

We were fleeting. Temporary. Counting on Hux to help me pick up the pieces would only cause me strife down the line.

“See you later.” I waved, then slipped into the garage and climbed in his truck. As soon as I pulled away, the weight of the week settled heavy on my shoulders.

Had I been that difficult when I’d been a teenage girl? Maybe I should call my mother and apologize, just in case. Because if I’d been anything like Savannah, well . . . She was not making it easy. Thank goodness for school or I would have taken up day drinking by now. When I’d woken up this morning, I’d known I’d never make it through an entire Saturday.

So I was going to work. Not that my job at the gallery was a real job but . . . details. I’d rather deal with Katie than Savannah.

Katie’s attitude was a warm hug compared to Savannah’s, even though Katie hadn’t thawed in the slightest, no matter how many days I spent at the gallery.

We avoided each other as much as two people could in the small space. I’d organized the storage room and deep cleaned the studio space on the second floor. Then I’d spent hours in Hux’s office developing a new inventory system to better track sales and assets. Katie might rule the showroom, but I was going to dominate the accounting portion of the business.

Reese Huxley Art would follow Generally Accepted Accounting Principles to precision.

That fact might actually make Mom and Dad proud.

The drive to the gallery wasn’t long enough and when I pulled into the space beside Katie’s SUV, I flipped it off, then screwed on my fake smile to go inside.

“Good morning,” I singsonged, mostly because it made her visibly cringe.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her gaze glued to her computer screen.

I made a move for Hux’s office, but then decided against it and walked into the showroom, crossing enemy lines.

She’d rearranged some pieces this week, making space to highlight one of Hux’s newest paintings. It was a horse, one I’d seen him working on in his studio. He’d made the animal’s soul come to life on that canvas. The dark brown eyes were mesmerizing with little flecks of caramel. I wasn’t sure why, but whenever I looked at it, my heart squeezed. Like the animal was trying to send me a message.

Be brave. Have courage. Don’t give up.

“Do we have to sell this one?” I whispered.

“What?” Katie asked.

“Nothing.” I waved it off, wishing this horse could be mine and stay with me always. “The new layout looks nice.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Was a thank you so damn hard? What the hell was it with people? Why was everyone so sure I was going to ruin Hux’s life? Katie. Chase. Savannah. Couldn’t I just be married to the guy for two years, have a lot of sex, then move on with my life?

Walk away. Don’t pick a fight. Just walk away.

I walked away. “I’ll be in Hux’s office if you need anything.”

“I won’t,” she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

“You might.” I stopped walking. “You don’t take a lot of days off.” Katie was always here. Six days a week without fail. “Is there someone who helps in the summer when it’s busy?”

“Hux.”

“Besides Hux.”

She squared her shoulders. “We don’t need other help.”

Seriously, I was not a Katie fan. “But don’t you get tired of working nonstop?”

“No. I helped Hux build this place from the ground up. It’s as much mine as it is his.”

Uh, no it’s not.

Her name wasn’t on the sign out front. Either she was trying to insinuate, again, that she was more important in Hux’s life than I was. Or she truly believed this place was hers. Not entirely a bad thing when it came to employees. Katie was nothing if not loyal to my husband.

Without another word, I left her arena and disappeared to Hux’s office, closing the door and with it, shutting out the outside world. I settled behind his desk and splayed my hands on the clean wooden surface.

It was beginning to feel like mine. My seat. My job. My pride. I’d spent a lot of hours here in the past few weeks. Maybe I couldn’t fault Katie for taking ownership in this place, not when I felt the same. She wasn’t the only one claiming the gallery as her something special. With every passing day, this place became more and more important in my life.

It would be hard to walk away when the clock ran out on my marriage, but I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. I’d found something here.

A talent. A calling. A career.

I liked business management. I liked organizing.

I liked . . . accounting.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks falling from the sky.

“Noooo.” I dropped my head to the desk, banging it once. Twice. “Ouch.”

I sat up straight, rubbing away the ache in my forehead, then pulled my phone from my purse and called Lucy.

“I like accounting,” I said the moment she answered.

Lucy laughed. “Cynthia? Is that you?”

“Funny,” I deadpanned. “This is a nightmare.”

“I take it that the gallery’s books are shaping up.”

“I’m getting there,” I said. “I’ve emerged from the mountain of wadded-up receipts and sticky notes. My goal is to finish getting this year’s books cleaned up in the next week or two. Then start my audit of the past few years.”

I shuddered, thinking of all that I’d find. Hux’s accountant prepared his taxes every year based on the numbers that Katie and Hux piecemealed together. I had zero confidence in those figures. I only hoped Hux hadn’t understated income so he wouldn’t be hit with a tax penalty should the IRS ever come knocking.

“What are you doing?” I asked Lucy.

“Oh, I was just playing around with a new song.” The strum of a guitar drifted through the phone.

Not all that long ago, the two of us would have sat on our couch in Nashville, each with a guitar on our laps, and played songs for hours. Part of me longed for those days, when Lucy and I would sing whatever lyrics she’d dream up. Song writing had never been my strong suit, but she had a way of stringing words together with a melody that snared you from the first note.

I missed those days.

What I wouldn’t give for a rewind button on life, not to fix my mistakes, but to relive the moments I hadn’t appreciated enough.

“Will you sing it for me?” I asked.

“Um . . . are you sure?”

“Of course. Just because I don’t sing much anymore—”

“Or at all.”

“Whatever.” I giggled. “Just because I’m not singing doesn’t mean I don’t love your music. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed hearing the early versions of your songs, the ones that were always just for me. I’ve missed being your guinea pig.”

“I’ve missed that too.”

We couldn’t go back to the Nashville days, but maybe we could find even better in Calamity. And when this marriage to Hux was over and I moved on to wherever it was I moved on to, Lucy and I could do this over the phone. Today seemed like the perfect chance to practice.

I relaxed into the chair, closed my eyes and smiled. A real smile for the first time in a week. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Lucy strummed a minor chord that brought goose bumps to my skin. Then she crooned a melancholy song about a woman overcoming heartbreak. The lyrics, the melody and the harmony were almost painful to hear. Because this fictional woman in Lucy’s song didn’t feel quite so fictional.

It was like Lucy had looked into my future and seen the woman I’d become after leaving Calamity.

Because as often as I told myself that this thing with Hux was pretend, deep in my heart, I knew it was beginning to feel real. It had started in the courtroom two weeks ago. It had started the morning he’d saved me from Chase.

He’d leaned on me for support.

I’d curled into the safety of his arms.

Damn it. Nothing good would come from me falling in love with my husband.

So I was going to pretend that it wasn’t happening. That it hadn’t been happening.

“Pretty song, Luce,” I said when she finished.

“Is it too sad?”

“No,” I promised. “It’s brutally beautiful.”

“It’s one the album never would have let me do before.”

Before the stalker and before we’d found out that her former producer had sold her out.

Now Lucy was doing an album on her own terms with a new label. She’d record them in the studio she and Duke were having built at their house, and she’d forgo the hectic concert tour schedule to simply enjoy catching her own songs on the radio.

Without a doubt, it would be her best album. If that song was anything to go by, this album was going to cement Lucy Ross as a country music powerhouse.

“Sing it again.”

And she did. She sang it along with a couple of others she’d been working on, and even though she was on one end of town and I was on the other, I hadn’t felt this close to my friend in months.

It settled a fear in my heart, a fear I hadn’t acknowledged. I didn’t need to live my life alongside Lucy to keep her close. When I left here, she’d always be with me, even from afar.

After our call, I dove into work, spending my morning tying sales information to my sold inventory logs. Hux would actually be able to see at a glance how many horses versus bison versus landscapes he sold in a given year.

I spent the lunch hour wading through the bank account and credit card transactions to make sure all expenses had been recorded—they hadn’t been. Then I spent a couple of hours auditing recent sales to credits. Most were fine, but about one in ten sales had been fat-fingered and his income had been skewed.

There were also a handful of sales from the past twelve months that were about a thousand dollars less than I’d expected them to be, given the typical price of a painting of each size. Hux had probably run a sale or something. Maybe those were less popular pieces that he’d sold at a discount?

My stomach growled around three, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten for hours. I emerged from the office to find Katie in the showroom, dusting the light fixtures that extended from the walls to illuminate individual paintings.

“I’m going to get some lunch. Would you like anything?” I asked.

“I ate at noon.” Like normal people. The unspoken words rang loud and clear. Katie didn’t spare me a glance as I pushed through the front door.

The minute I stepped outside, the clean April air filled my lungs and raised my spirits. Hux’s office was dark, the walls a deep teal and the furniture rich brown. The couch was camel leather. His desk was a wood the color of dark chocolate. Strolling into the sunshine was like emerging from a cave.

A couple passed going the opposite direction, each carrying paper cups from the coffee shop. I greeted them with a smile, then aimed my feet toward the White Oak.

The door’s bell greeted me like an old friend when I stepped inside, as did Marcy. After a short gab to catch up, she nodded to my usual chair.

And another familiar face.

“You’re a judge.” I settled into the seat beside Nelson’s and stowed my purse. “That’s got to be an interesting job.”

Nelson chuckled, a grin stretching behind his bushy beard. “Some cases are more interesting than others.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“I ordered the special for lunch. With chili cheese fries.”

“Nelson,” I scolded.

“This is your fault. You haven’t been here for a while and I’m afraid the old habits came back.”

“Yes, this is my fault.” I laughed and when Marcy came over, I ordered the special. With a salad.

“How’s it going with Savannah?” Nelson asked as we waited for our tuna melts.

“She’s a teenage girl.”

He chuckled. “I had one of those once. My hair turned white during those years.”

“You have a daughter?” Seriously, I really should have asked this man more questions during those lunches.

“And a son.” He nodded. “Both are grown up and gone. My daughter lives in Phoenix. My son is in Atlanta.”

“Are you married?” He didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“Divorced.” Nelson’s statement was devoid of emotion and matter-of-fact.

Before long, I’d have that marital status too. Except I couldn’t think of the word divorce and not feel a sting. Hopefully it would fade in the years to come.

The chatter ceased when Marcy delivered our lunches. Nelson and I settled into a comfortable silence, eating until our plates were clear and our checks paid.

“See you next week?” I asked, standing from my chair.

Nelson nodded. “You’re the only other person in Calamity who eats lunch at three o’clock.”

“I like to avoid the crowd.”

He grinned. “Me too.”

I turned to leave, but the curiosity was too much. “You knew. About me and Hux.” About our fake marriage. “Why didn’t you say anything that day?”

“I figured if you would lecture me, a stranger, about eating healthy, you might be the mother that girl needs.”

“Thank you.” My heart swelled. Nelson had reminded me of my purpose here. He’d bolstered my determination to stick this out for Savannah.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he said.

“I won’t.” I waved goodbye and walked out the door, returning to the cave of Hux’s office. After another two hours of finding mismatched numbers, my eyes began to cross and I decided to call it a day.

“Good night, Katie.”

She ignored me as I walked out the back door.

“Oh, what a bitch,” I muttered to myself as I climbed into Hux’s truck.

Knowing that I was about to trade one attitude for another, I scowled the whole drive home. A deep, crease-between-my-eyebrows Reese Huxley frown. Then as I pulled into the driveway, I summoned that sunny face I’d been wearing all week—all month—and went inside.

“Hux?” I called as I walked through the house. No answer. “Savannah?”

She didn’t answer either, though that didn’t mean she hadn’t heard me.

I dropped my purse on the island in the kitchen and walked outside to Hux’s studio, finding him on his stool with a paintbrush in one hand and green stains on the other. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He swiveled on his stool. “How was the gallery?”

“Fine.” I sighed, walking to his side. “I have a list of questions for you about some price discrepancies. And before you tell me to ask Katie, know that I’m going to ask you anyway.”

“Okay.” The corner of his mouth turned up. A little smile, one I’d been earning more and more often. It was endearing, like all things Hux. Too endearing. But at least it wasn’t his blinding smile. If he flashed that at me every day, then I really would be screwed.

I never should have told him to work on that scowl.

“You should also know that if I ever find a receipt wadded up into a ball and tossed on your desk, I’ll withhold sex for a week.”

He chuckled, shifting on his seat to dig in his pocket. His hand emerged with a receipt, balled per his usual. “Haven’t washed these jeans in a while. Found this in the pocket earlier.”

I took the paper and uncrumpled it. “You’re awful.”

“Probably not gonna change. Just like you’re probably not gonna withhold sex.”

“Stubborn and arrogant is not your best look.”

Yet he wasn’t wrong.

Sex with Hux was the best part of our relationship and there was no way I’d cut it out. It was simply too good to resist. So I refolded the receipt neatly and tucked it in my own pocket for safe keeping. Then I took in the canvas on the easel and the forest he’d been painting. “This is new.”

It was a forest and only a forest. There was no horizon. No mountains or sky. Only trees and their trunks, disappearing into a mossy floor.

The base layers were dark and ominous, the forest haunted by misery. It lacked the bright colors of his other pieces, and though he would often add the lighter shades last, even those wouldn’t chase away the despair.

“Is something wrong?” I put my hand on his shoulder.

He blinked, staring at the trees like he hadn’t really taken a step back to look at the piece as a whole. “No. I don’t know.”

“Is it Chase?” I cringed at the asshole’s name.

“He shouldn’t have touched you, Ev. He shouldn’t have watched us. I shouldn’t have let him stay.”

God, his voice. It broke my heart that he was hurting. “I’m okay.”

Hux stared at the painting for a long moment, then he surged to his feet, tossing the brush in a cup of water. He swiped his hands on his jeans, leaving new streaks of dark green on the denim. When they were marginally clean, those strong, talented hands framed my face.

But he didn’t kiss me. He simply studied, like he was memorizing my face. His thumb traced the line of my jaw. His finger circled my temple.

“The only man who touches you is me,” he said, his voice husky and as dark as the painting. “The only man who watches you is me.”

I melted at the intensity of his gaze. The way those words would have made me feel if this were a different situation . . . But there was no denying my heart. It swelled, wishing it was more than physical affection and Hux’s alpha male kicking in.

I wished he’d say those words because he wanted me. For years and years to come.

His powerful body inched closer. The hardness of his chest, the heat, seeped into mine.

My breaths shortened as he pushed his hands into my hair, tugging hard enough for the slightest bite. That sting sent a pool of desire to my core.

“Where’s Savannah?” I whispered.

“Went to dinner and a movie with a couple friends.”

“Oh. Good for her.” And good for me.

We’d had to change our sexual escapades since she’d been here this week. No sex on the couch or in the kitchen. No screaming his name in the shower. But bedroom sex with Hux was never a letdown and keeping quiet had become a new challenge.

“Take me inside,” I said.

He shook his head, his mouth lowering. “No. I’ll take you right here.”

I surrendered to his kiss. I dropped my guard. I let myself pretend.

For tonight, I was his.

For tonight, he was mine.