The Romeo Arrangement

“What’s the first thing you’d change? Nothing’s ever perfect.” I help her along since she’s trying to be polite.

“Hmmm…I’d add more color, I think. It’s just a little drab from what I’ve seen, though obviously I haven’t been through your whole house yet,” she says instantly, then clamps her lips tight as her cheeks turn red.

“Color?”

She nods. “Not a ton, but there’s a lot of grey in the house. This floor, anyway. It doesn’t really, well…connect with the exterior. This place must be beautiful without the snow. I can only imagine it greened up and sunny outside. I think I’d try to connect the outside with what’s in here, so the transition isn’t such a shock.”

I like the sound of that.

She has a point. The kitchen cupboards are contemporary slate grey. So are the walls, and the tile floor matches.

“Now tell me you can do it without changing up the paint?” I’m not into using a paint brush or roller, or living through the process. Been there. Done that.

Just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I’m above getting my hands dirty sometimes.

The little shrug she gives off is cute, but it’s the way her eyes light up that interests me.

“Little things can go a long way,” she says. “Vases of natural flowers, for instance. They’ll bring the outside world in. A picture or two, whether it’s a nicely framed black and white landscape or something painted, a little rustic. A tablecloth like the one in the guesthouse. Bowls of fruit or pinecones. Pillows. Rugs. Candles. The good news is, you’re almost a blank slate. Any decorator would be thrilled to roll up their sleeves and work with that.”

I can almost visualize her ideas as she’s looking around the room.

Yeah, I think I’ve made up my mind.

“Listen, I’m going to let you knock yourself out, lady. Tobin can order whatever you need, but it won’t arrive overnight, of course. That’s not an option here. I mean, I know this is sudden, but if you’re willing to spare the time and energy, I’m game.” Then, because I’m starting to feel claustrophobic, I set my napkin down. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few chores to do.”

I don’t have any real chores. I just need to escape. Get away before the memories hit. They’re bound to, even if they only smack me over the head on a delay.

All the shit I don’t like thinking about, remembering, regretting.

What Grace described is what I call a woman’s touch.

I’m not sure I should have that around me at all, even if it’s only temporary.

Maybe Tobin’s right, and I hate like hell to admit it.

I also need to think about the Sellers and that thug last night.

What sort of shit I might’ve invited in by charging to her rescue and hauling them home, then floating the idea of them staying here.

It’s not in my nature to second-guess, but I don’t make all of my decisions on the fly.

Seclusion, privacy, and a fresh start were all good reasons why I chose Dallas for a new beginning. Yet, right now, they’re the very things driving me crazy.

That shouldn’t mean I throw open the door to a sick man and a woman who’s far too pretty to be around me for long. Not to mention the fact that they’re both being chased by a wolf with some reason to show his fangs—maybe more than one.

I throw on my coat and head outside, grabbing the shovel off the front porch.

A little heavy lifting never hurt a man.

I start working my way through the deep snow around the house, hoping the physical release of energy helps me think clearer, and maybe find a way out of this shitshow.

5

No Place Like Home (Grace)

I don’t know what it is about Ridge, but now there’s no denying the obvious.

There’s far more to this guy than he’s letting on.

A rich and famous actor? Here? In the middle of flipping nowhere?

It’s like he’s gone into hiding. I can’t say exactly why I believe that, but I do.

I guess we’ve got something in common, though, even if we’re a universe apart in other ways.

But Ridge isn’t hiding in the same way Dad and I need to disappear. And I doubt Ridge would’ve been gullible—or desperate—enough to take Clay at his word.

Dad was convinced the farm would settle his debt for good, and I’d wanted to believe him.

Out of sheer desperation, I’d made myself believe there was a chance. Even though I know firsthand just how far Clay Grendal goes to get what he wants.

I just wanted to believe this nightmare could end. Peacefully. Forever.

Stupid me.

Refusing to dig in my heels and tell Dad it was a dumb idea only made things worse, no question.

Now I wonder if I’m being dangerously naive again. Making things worse by agreeing to decorate Ridge’s castle.