Untamed: Heath & Violet (Beg For It 3)

Shocked into silence, I found my way to the door and left without another word.

§

What did you do when you had no job, no boyfriend, no life? You crawled onto your mom’s couch and wore a melon-colored sweat suit from the sale rack at Walmart for several days on end, that’s what.

I didn’t have a job anymore so I couldn’t make rent. That last minute round trip cross-country plane ticket hadn’t exactly been cheap. I was lucky I had enough to cover the costs of shipping my things back to New Jersey.

I wished I could say that I left LAX with my fist raised and a rallying cry, “You haven’t heard the last of me, L.A.!” But it was hard to summon your inner fierceness when you had a broken heart.

Because that was the real problem. I’d gone and fallen completely in love with a mountain man. Only that man didn’t actually exist. Simple, tough Heath the woodworker was actually Heathcliff Kavanaugh, Ivy League heir to billions. And he couldn’t have made it more clear that he wanted nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with me.

“Here’s to you, Heathcliff Kavanaugh,” I murmured, scooping another big spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s into my mouth. I didn’t even use a bowl. I wondered what the royals in his family would have to say about that. The manners on that heathen! And just because I didn’t have to worry about what they’d think of me since they’d never, ever meet me anyway, I finished the whole frickin’ pint.

CHAPTER 20

Heath

I sat awkwardly on the couch with an untouched glass of wine in my hand while my brother Ash’s fiancé arranged flowers in a vase.

“Do you think these look fussy?” She tilted her head and surveyed them from a short distance. “I know it’s still technically winter, but I thought some flowers would really brighten things up.”

“They’re, uh, nice,” I offered. She was nice, too. She’d been nothing but welcoming and kind since I’d arrived at their place in SoHo yesterday afternoon. It was me who was being stiff and weird. I didn’t feel right about imposing on them. They had to prefer having their place to themselves.

“We’re so thrilled you’re here, Heath!” Ana exclaimed. “The guest room is all set up for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I grumbled and mumbled. Sometimes I felt like a little kid in a big, overgrown man’s body.

“It’s our pleasure!” she sang out and she made me believe it. Ash had really lucked out with this one. I’d seen him with some grade-A Prima Donnas over the past years. He’d gone through a Victoria’s Secret model phase and the best thing I could say about the lot of them were they were nice to look at. For about five minutes. Until the whining and preening and posturing and drama made you look for the nearest exit. But with me, lots of things made me look for the nearest exit.

“So, do you eat red meat?” Ana asked. “Because I’ve got a lasagna in the oven for dinner and it does have some ground beef in it, but I’m making a salad on the side and I could see what else we have in the kitchen.”

“Of course he eats red meat!” Ash strode into the room, looking happier than I’d ever seen him. “How else do you think Heath grew so big?”

The two of them bustled around me, clearly in sync with each other, finding ways to touch and exchange smiles. Honestly, Ash had always made me a little edgy in the past. He had such a frenetic energy pulsing through him, a constant internal drive pushing him in his music, toward the spotlight. But when he gazed at Ana, which he often did, he looked almost peaceful.

The two of them were good to talk to about the scum of the earth that were the paparazzi. They’d been chased around by cameras since the first day they’d met.

“So, Heath.” Ana turned to me with a gleam in her eyes. “Are you single? Because I’ve got a roommate—”

“Oh no, Ana!” Ash interrupted. “Don’t you dare set him up with Liv.”

“Not Liv! Jillian.”

“I’m not…” I shook my head, trying to find the right words to stop this crazy train. “I’m done with all that.”

“Are you, now?” Uh-oh, Ash had a gleam in his eyes as he took a sip of his wine. Apparently I hadn’t said the right words. “So if you’re done, that means you were just involved with someone.”

I exhaled. Better to get it over with. I told them the short version, that I’d met a woman from the TV network when she’d been up in Watson.

“She’s not behind the exposé?” Ash asked.

“She handed me the consent form to film it.”

“Hmm.” Ash considered the situation. “Might be more going on there than you know about.”

“You should talk to her,” Ana chimed in. “What’s her side of things?”

I put a forkful of lasagna in my mouth so I didn’t have to participate in the conversation. But they waited politely for me to finish my bite. “I’m not going to talk to her.”

“Why not?” Ana looked so concerned, so kind and worried. I couldn’t just pull a big, gruff Heath and walk up and out. I wanted to, though.

“Well, for one, she’s pissed at me,” I started. “She thinks I lied to her.”

“About your family?” Ash adopted a movie announcer voice. “The billionaire Kavanaugh dynasty.”

“Something like that.”

“Just call her up,” Ana said, making it all sound so simple as she poured me more wine. “Tell her you’re sorry. Offer to take her sailing on a yacht. She’ll get over it.”

I shook my head. “We had a big fight. I think the last thing she said to me was she called me Sir Heathcliff McMoneybags.”

Ash and Ana burst out laughing. “I like this one,” Ash declared.

“I can’t wait to meet her!” Ana exclaimed.

“Not likely.” I put another big bite of lasagna in my mouth and focused on my plate. It was easy to laugh things off when you were so in love you looked like cartoon characters with hearts bursting out of your eyes. But morose as I was, I had to acknowledge they did have a point. Sir Heathcliff McMoneybags was kind of funny.

§

In the living room of my mother’s Connecticut estate, I again found myself sitting stiffly on a couch. Only I wasn’t the only one stiff and awkward this time around. My mother looked like she’d just bit down on a lemon but was using all of her self-control to grin and bear it.

“So good of you to come,” she offered. I grunted. More silence.

She’d invited me to lunch, and I’d dutifully accepted the invitation. We only saw each other a handful of times each year. It wasn’t as if we fought. We simply had very little to say to each other.

“Would you like some water?” She gestured to a pitcher and some glasses set out on a tray. No alcohol. She hadn’t touched a drop since those dark years post-divorce. I helped myself to a glass. It gave me something to do.

I knew

she’d invited me today out of a sense of maternal obligation, more than an authentic desire to spend time with me. I remembered childhood parties she’d hosted for hundreds, but since the divorce from my father she’d become a bit of a recluse. She’d pretty much holed up with her roses, her hounds and, after a few years, her second husband Stewart, who brought new meaning to the words stodgy and boring. She liked things quiet. Kind of like me.

The only problem with that was neither one of us had a damned thing to say to each other.

“Heath!” Thank God, like an angel from above my younger sister Gigi entered the room, bringing levity and conversation with her. She’d always stood out in this family like a fresh daisy sprung from the frozen earth, radiant and charming.

“Didn’t know you were here.” I rose and gave her a hug.

“It’s the start of trimester break!” She chattered through all of lunch, telling us about her senior year in college, the internship she was doing, and how excited she was to head off with friends to the Bahamas for the rest of her break.

“I’m so sorry about the crazy exposé that network had planned.” Gigi placed a delicate, consoling hand on my forearm. “But Nelson’s taken care of it, hasn’t he?” She looked to my mother, so optimistic and upbeat. How she’d grown up in this family so unscathed, I didn’t know. Maybe she had more going on inside of her than she let on. But to external appearances, she seemed practically perfect in every way.

“Nelson has successfully managed the situation,” my mother confirmed.

“Yeah?” I’d figured that the vast Kavanaugh connections and wealth would win the day, but I hadn’t heard for sure.

“He phoned this morning,” she explained. “That network—” she spat out the word as if it were distasteful— “has agreed to cancel its plans.”

Relief poured through me fast and hot. I took a sip of water. Strangely enough, I felt the impulse to call Violet and share the good news. It made no sense. I knew that. She was the reason for the mess in the first place. But the thought occurred to me nevertheless. I still felt a connection to her. I guessed it was because I rarely let people in. Once I’d done it, it was hard to get them out.