Prologue
Madeline Hill walked toward the rec center wearing her absolute sexiest dress. It was off the rack but had a designer label, and she’d had it tailored to fit her perfectly. She planned to tell everyone she met that it was just something she had in her closet. No big deal, really. This dress was simply what she wore now that she was in Los Angeles and had a dream job in big tech.
She’d spent half a month’s salary on the dress, shoes, and handbag because she needed armor. After all, she was walking into her own personal war zone, and there was an enemy combatant to deal with.
Deke Murphy was back in town on leave, and she was going to let the man know exactly what he’d missed when he’d walked away from her. When he’d dumped her and made the biggest error of his life.
I think it would be a mistake, Maddie. I love you, but I can’t be the reason you give up a scholarship to Yale. You have to go.
That day had come back to her in vivid detail. Not that she couldn’t remember the worst day of her life, but being here in town brought a certain sharpness to every memory. She couldn’t forget that they’d been sitting on her front porch when the man she’d expected to marry had told her college was more important than their little high school romance. She’d explained that she could defer and they would find a school for him to go to, but he’d been firm. He’d stood up and walked away, and they’d barely spoken all summer long.
It had been an awful way to break up. He’d enforced his will and proven he’d never truly loved her.
Now he would see that he’d walked away from a slot machine before it paid off. Big time.
“How do you walk in those shoes?” her mother asked as they strode along the walkway between the gravel parking lot and the prefab building that hadn’t been updated in what had to be twenty years.
“It’s easy.” It wasn’t. Those shoes hurt. Human toes weren’t meant to form a perfect triangle, nor were they meant to arch the way these five-inchers did. But they had that sexy red sole that would let everyone know she was successful.
She was important and she’d escaped Calhoun, California. Deke Murphy had been right when he’d said she was far too smart to stay in their rural town where any party of size had to be held in a park or the rec center because that was how small they were.
“Well, it doesn’t look easy.” Her mom stopped before the double doors and gave her a once-over. “You’re overdressed for this, you know that, right? You’re dressed for some red-carpet premiere, not an eighty-year-old woman’s birthday party.”
Her mother obviously didn’t know how Hollywood stars dressed. “It’s barely a cocktail dress, Mom. And I told you it’s all I have.”
It wasn’t, but she would get the lecture of a lifetime if her mom knew why she was wearing it. She would talk about humility and forgiveness and how it would set her free and shit. Of course if she’d seen the price tag, that would be an entirely different lecture. It didn’t matter that she made an insane amount of money for her age. One still shouldn’t ever pay more than $89.99 for any piece of clothing. The very specific price was due to the amount her mom had paid for her beloved winter coat with faux fur lining.
“Well, it makes me feel dowdy, but I probably am dowdy.” Her mom reached up and brushed something off her shoulder. “You look stunning, Maddie. I’m being a prickly old broad, and I promised I wouldn’t be. Of course I promised myself because my mother was a prickly old broad, and now I realize why she was. Menopause is hell, baby. Don’t do it.”
Her mom didn’t look so bad. She looked damn good for Calhoun, but there weren’t many places to shop out here.
Not that Maddie generally spent her time shopping. The dress was a lie, but a necessary one. She didn’t want Deke Murphy to know that most of the time she wore jeans and T-shirts because no one cared what she looked like, only that her calculations were correct. The team she was on generally lived in pop culture T-shirts, track pants, and sneakers. She was one of two women, and if she’d shown up in a dress like this the men on her team would ask who she was and where she’d taken Maddie. Jerky Joe with the 180 IQ and no social manners would stare at her boobs trying to figure out which one was bigger and would have an equation to show why one breast was obviously better than the other.