I glare at Lillian and knock her hand away. “Stop doing that,” I growl. “And keep your mouth shut.”
“Hey, I got my own issues.” There’s sadness etched in her face. “Your brother made me a homewrecker.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s a shitty thing to say. Don’t blame him entirely. You spread your legs for him. That makes you just as guilty.”
“I know, but still….” And then her voice trails off, like there’s a part of this conversation that I’m not privy to.
“Still what?”
“I want to blame him.”
“But you can’t, because it wasn’t like you fell on his dick and put it in your pussy, now, did you?”
She rolls her eyes this time. “You’re disgusting.”
“Lillian?”
“What?”
I press my fingers to my lips, smile, and start to walk away. “It’s our little secret.”
“Wait.” I turn to face her. She’s acting nervous, eyes darting around the hallway. “Tell me one thing and I’ll keep your secret.”
“What?”
“How’d Carly and Morgan act last night at your dad’s?”
Stepping back, I rest my shoulder against the wall and run my hand over my face. “They didn’t talk that I know of, but Morgan was shit-faced on tequila.”
She groans. “That explains the selfie he sent me early this morning of him and Jelly Bean in the barn.”
“Please tell me he wasn’t naked.”
She blinks.
“Goddamn him.”
Lillian leaves, and I hear Kacy’s laughter in the office and immediately smile. This buys me a week, at most. Now I need to think about getting her alone.
I can’t live a lie
KACY
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Lillian sighs next to me. “I feel like a total shit for what I did that night, and the thing is, I actually liked Carly. I just didn’t want her married to Morgan.”
“I met her last night, and she wasn’t very nice to me.”
“She’s probably just angry at him. And me.”
“Were you friend’s with her?”
“No. Not really. I mean, we said hello and were friendly, but it wasn’t like I hung out with her.”
Lillian’s confiding in me. Something we’ve done a few times over the last two days we’ve spent in this office together. And you know, I could see myself being friends with her. In my fucked-up fairy-tale life I think I’m living here in this town, I’ve already befriended her. Lillian Taylor, five foot nothing, green-eyed beauty with long blonde curls, I want to be friends with her. I picture myself sitting on a porch with her watching our babies play. It’s natural, as if that should be my life, not one where my presence here is complicated. I can’t place what it is, but I feel like I crashed into this building for a reason, regardless of my lie.
“I know him,” I blurt to Lillian. I say it so fast I’m not sure she hears me correctly. I couldn’t take it anymore. Someone had to know, and it’s Lillian.
Lillian blinks. Steadily. “Morgan?” Her eyes move to the kids playing in the drive of the shop with Jace, Barron, and Rhett. They’re in the midst of a snowball fight when I lay this information on her.
“No. Barron.”
“What?”
I can’t tear my eyes away from him. “I know him, or I mean, I knew of him.”
She searches my eyes, her brow drawn together as she cups the warm coffee in her hands. “I’m not following you.”
I can’t keep this in any longer. “I… know his wife.”
Lillian’s eyes widen, a gasp leaving her lips. “Tara?”
I nod, fear pricking my skin. I feel like Sev and her itching. I fight through the urges to itch everywhere as my entire body breaks out in a sweat. “What do I do?”
“How do you know Tara?”
“I worked for her. I was a personal assistant, got the job because of my mom, and then that turned into me basically being Tara’s bitch for the last year. And then I quit and left town, intending to drive south. Anywhere. I had this vision of myself living in the South somewhere with sweet tea and guys who call you ma’am instead of Monday because you’re the chick he fucks on Monday. So I quit my job, packed my shit, and left.”
She sips her coffee. “What? Monday… that’s like a thing?”
“In California, yes.” I wave my hand around. “But that’s not the point. I didn’t know where he lived. Like his address. I didn’t memorize it or anything, and I certainly didn’t leave California to find him. I worked for Tara, yes, and I knew that she was married before, had kids but left. She made it sound like he was the worst husband and trapped her in a marriage.”
“Hardly.” Lillian glares. “What a lying bitch and fucked him over completely. Sev was only three weeks old when she left.”
“Yeah, I knew she was lying because it’s Tara, but I swear, I didn’t know where Barron lived. I didn’t intentionally crash my car into the building. If anything, fate was like, hey, he’s right here. The one you’ve been looking your whole life for.”
“That’s sorta romantic. Sounds better than sleeping with a married man.” I think she believes me, but there’s a certain amount of apprehension on her face. Barron’s her friend. I can tell that much.
“Technically Barron’s still married,” I point out, knowing he hasn’t signed the divorce papers.
“True. But at least he wasn’t living with her. So, how’d you end up in Amarillo then?”
I recall the night being pulled over and all the Dr. Pepper I drank. “I pulled off the highway to find a bathroom, and then the snowstorm hit. I was on the ranch roads trying to read a damn map, and before I knew it, Buck committed suicide, and bam, Barron Grady entered my life.”
There’s a smile on her face now. She’s clearly not seeing the gravity of the situation. “See… that’s romantic if you think about it.”
“Uh, no, it’s not.” Fear pricks my skin again, and I can sense the heat rising from my chest to my cheeks. I shouldn’t have worn a sweater. I’m dying of heat exhaustion now. “He’s going to be mad, isn’t he?”
“Knowing Barron, no.” Lillian sets her coffee cup down and looks over at the phone ringing. “Not if you tell him.”
“How am I going to tell him that?”
“I don’t know, but you need to. If he finds out otherwise, he might not be so forgiving.”
My heart takes a plummet to my knees. “I need to leave before he finds out.”
Her eyes widen. “No, don’t leave. Don’t do that to him. Just tell him.”
Just as I’m thinking of a plan to tell him, he comes inside the office, snow in his hair and my heart in his hands. I don’t know how it happened. Or when the lie became something I couldn’t right, but looking at him now, those charming dark eyes, I can’t tell him.
“Parts should be here by Friday.”
Somehow I got lost in the dream of thinking I belonged here and stare at him long enough he probably thinks I’m crazy. Anxiety swallows me. I hoped it’d take longer, and by the look on his face, he wants that too. “I should probably get a hotel room in Amarillo. I hate being a burden to you and the girls.”