Chasing Liberty, page 7
She cleared her throat.
“I’ve been thinking.” She moistened her lips then met his gaze. “I will agree to remain married to you.”
“Yeah?”
“Under one condition.”
He lowered his arms. “And what’s the condition?”
“I don’t want either of us to put too much pressure on each other. Let’s just take each day, one at a time, and stay focused.”
“That’s the condition? That’s easy.” He chuckled. He expected something a lot harder, like a specification of keeping their hands off each other. That would be difficult.
“No, that’s not the condition.”
Ah, shit.
“If we enter the competition for the Harvest Picnic, then we must win. That includes the homemade pie competition. As you know, I like to win.” She leaned slightly forward, a new competitive gleam in her gaze.
Wyler chuckled inwardly. He couldn’t help but think he’d dodged another bullet.
"You might not know this," he said, locking eyes with her, "but I worked in a restaurant before joining the circuit. I thought about becoming a chef, but it turns out my talents lie elsewhere."
She raised an eyebrow. "You've been keeping secrets."
"It wasn't on purpose. But how do you think I got so good at making those meals for you?"
"So, you're sure we can win this?"
"Just trust me. I'll bake a pie that's out of this world," he said confidently, drinking his coffee. "Can you handle that?"
"A knockout pie? Absolutely!"
"You're okay with letting me lead?"
She gestured dismissively. "You're placing too much emphasis on this idea of control. I'm quite content to step back for the benefit of the team." Noticing his smirk, she waved her finger. "Hold on, before you tease me with 'that's so typical of you, Roses,'" she imitated, "You've overplayed that card and can no longer use it."
His smile was infectious. "There’s something I want to ask you about. I've heard rumors about your efforts in opening a community center."
"Aren’t you referring to the entire family's initiative?"
"I'm specifically speaking about your involvement."
"As I mentioned, stepping aside for the family's welfare suits me. It's all for one and one for all. And don't forget, Wyler, you're a part of this family too."
“Don’t you think you’re taking on a little too many side hustles these days? What about the baby?” he said in a lowered voice.
“Thanks for the concern, but I’m doing fine. In fact, I haven’t had any more morning sickness since I soaked your boots. Must have been a lucky charm.”
“I see Bruce Harper. Excuse me while I go speak to him about fixing the tractor at Sagebrush.” Wyler slid out of the booth.
Chapter Six
Wyler excused himself to go talk to Bruce who sat at the counter. Liberty watched the two shake hands, but her gaze naturally journeyed over her husband.
His well-worn, buttery-soft faded jeans fit him like a glove in all the right places—lean hips and muscled thighs. They were loose around his worn, dusty boots. The sleeves of his button-down were cuffed, exposing strong, barrel-like biceps dusted with crisp, dark hair. She remembered vividly how those arms held her, lifted her, and how his hands smoothed over her naked body like she was a fine piece of porcelain. She’d always had a thing for nice, powerful hands with thick veins and callouses. They made her weak and soft like a boiled noodle.
Feeling a familiar warmth wash through her, she needed some ice water to counter the effect.
Sliding out of the booth, she walked over to the counter. “Winona, I’m grabbing myself some water.”
"Certainly," replied the tall woman with jet-black hair and a cross tattoo on her neck, as she passed the glass from the stack to Liberty. "How’s Sam doing? I haven’t seen him in here lately."
"He's well. You know how he is, always working as if tomorrow doesn't exist."
"They say you can't keep a good man down."
"Yes, that's the saying."
Winona received an order from the cook and rolled her eyes. "Always nice to see you, Liberty. I need to get that order before Bernie blows a gasket. Catch you at the Harvest Picnic."
Liberty chuckled. The pair had been wed for three decades, appearing to despise each other, yet Liberty figured there must be some affection to last so long.
She poured ice water into the glass then took it to the booth and was about to sit when she spotted an envelope with her name scrawled messily on it. Looking around the diner, Wyler and Bruce were still in conversation, and the rest of the customers were interested in their meals.
Catching Winona on her way by, Liberty asked, "Winona, did you see who left this?"
The woman lowered her readers resting on top of her head and skimmed the envelope. “No, ma’am. I’m too busy deflecting the fact that my husband can’t fry a good sunny side if his life depended on it. Bernie! The customer asked for an egg not an emoji on a plate.”
Liberty slid back into the cracked vinyl seat and ripped open the sealed flap. Before she could check the contents, she heard, “No more tea?”
She looked up, wa-a-ay up as Wyler came strolling back to the table, wiping his hands down his shirt. She was distracted by his lean hips, the telltale bulging behind his zipper and long legs. She dragged her gaze back up, w-a-a-ay up to his prominent chin covered with salt and pepper whiskers and cherub’s bow lips. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him, in her bed, as soon as possible. If she would remain married to him then she should reap all the benefits.
“I’ve had enough.” She tucked the envelope under her purse.
He slumped into the seat and asked, "You okay?"
"I'm okay. Are you returning to the Manor?" She maintained eye contact, ready to get to the backbone of things.
"Is that a question or a command?" he grumbled.
"Wyler, isn't this your goal?" She took her glass and drank half of its content, with the moisture making her fingers wrinkle.
“I’m not desperate, Liberty. Is it that hard to let your guard down an inch or so?” he spoke in a low, husky tone that should have been saved for the bedroom.
"You don't have to agree, but I think it would be best for now, if we want this arrangement to work, that you come back to the Manor. If I moved into the camper, we might kill each other, but it's totally your decision," she said with a pointed look.
"It wasn't that difficult, was it?" he replied playfully. "Although, you could be a bit more gracious."
With clenched teeth, she leaned in closer, forcing what she hoped to be her sweetest smile yet. She gently touched his wrist, taking in the warmth as if he were a personal heater. His muscles shifted subtly beneath her fingers, sending a rush of feeling to her chest. He glanced at her hand and then at her face, his lips curving with a trace of knowing amusement. "Wyler, would you so kindly consider moving into the Manor?" she requested, lifting her chin for emphasis. “Pretty please with sugar on top.”
“How could I possible say no?”
She removed her fingers. “Don’t press your luck, cowboy. I’ll make sure the guest room has clean sheets. My invitation doesn’t include sex.”
What a liar I am.
His snort made her tingle with apprehension. "Remember you made that statement," he reminded before checking his watch. "I need to get back to the ranch. I'll see you this evening." He stood and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head. "Call if you need anything."
"I'll manage."
"Of course you will," he replied, tipping his hat and flashing a smile reminiscent of Wyler.
To her shock, he didn't just walk by. Instead, he leaned in, trapping her with his arms and planted a swift, impactful kiss on her lips. Barely able to speak, all she saw were
his captivating eyes.
"See you at home tonight, sweetheart," he said before leaving, taking her breath away with him. After tossing some bills on the table and saying goodbye to Winona, he left through the glass doors. She watched him go, accidentally spilling water all down her shirt and lap. Her emotions ran high from the mix of frustration and sweet turmoil he caused.
Before he climbed into the driver’s seat of the work truck, he caught a glance at her through the window. He winked as if he knew that he’d left her in a frazzled state.
The gall of that man!
As he drove off, she picked up her handbag and nearly overlooked the package resting on her seat. She quickly took the envelope as well and walked to her car. The moment she got into the driver’s seat, she ripped into the envelope and spread its contents across the seat beside her, a feeling of dread settling in her gut.
The photos wrote a story from the past. That of a different time when she and Reggie were having rendezvous in the barn, at the lake, on the patio at the farmhouse, and anywhere else they could find. Each picture was more revealing than the next. More exposing. She sifted through them until she thought she might be sick—until she couldn’t see anything through the blur in her eyes.
Inside she found a folded piece of paper.
With shaking fingers, she unfolded the note and read…
Meet me at the park at noon.
The sheet slipped from her grasp and settled on the center console.
Clearly, it was Reggie who had mailed the pictures to her. But for what purpose?
This implied that he had been at the diner, watching her. But where was he?
She scanned the parking lot and the vehicles, but he could be anywhere.
Gathering the photographs like she was digging dirt, she tucked them into what was left of the envelope and swept the letter up, stuffing it inside too.
She checked the clock. It was eleven forty-six.
She started the car, pulled out of the diner, and joined the light traffic on Main Street.
As she contemplated the photos, her pulse quickened.
The previous year, she had been casually involved with Reggie, insisting that she wasn’t seeking a relationship, which he had initially accepted. Despite enjoying their time together, his reaction to ending things was hostile. Angry. Rejected. He began incessantly texting, calling, leaving unwanted gifts for her, and watching her while she worked. Even after a clear conversation, he refused to back down.
When his behavior continued, she realized his advances wouldn’t stop. Liberty had no other choice but to explain the situation to her father. It had been humiliating, and he’d been disappointed. He reminded her that his strict rules were there for a purpose, but he let her know he would take care of the situation as usual.
Two days later, Reggie had left his job at the ranch.
A week went by, followed by another, and there was no sign of the former ranch hand, until he turned up late one evening while she was instructing a rider and horse in the arena. He appeared intoxicated, with an unsteady walk and muddled speech, insisting on a conversation with her as if things were great between them.
Liberty had remained calm and requested that Reggie wait for her by the barn. After her student had returned to her parent, Liberty met with Reggie, reiterating that his presence at the ranch was considered trespassing.
Things escalated quickly. He resorted to begging her for another chance to prove his love, expressing his profound desire for her. Despite her attempts to deescalate the situation, they were unsuccessful.
Fortunately, a driver was delivering a shipment of hay to the ranch and Reggie had backed off.
The incident was resolved without involving law enforcement.
Nonetheless, following the event that had been relayed to Sam, he declared to his daughters an ultimatum. Marry or lose their inheritance. Though he didn't reference the altercation with Reggie, it was clear that it had instigated the demand.
Why had Reggie returned to Sagebrush Pine now?
She contemplated seeking help from her father, or perhaps Wyler, yet it would further complicate matters. She had already caused enough complications for herself, her father, and her sisters.
She headed to the park, grateful it was a public area.
After parking on the street, she made her way across the quiet intersection and walked along the lakeside sidewalk to the stone bridge. Normally, she'd stop to admire the view, but today her focus was on finding the man she’d hoped to never see again. The sun draped its warm glow over the town, where the town seemed deserted except for an occasional leaf falling or a dog's bark in the distance.
Where could he be hiding?
Just as she was about to head back to her vehicle, she felt a pull on her sleeve. Startled and anticipating seeing Reggie, she instead found herself facing a woman with a Phillies cap that shaded her face.
"Keep cool," the woman instructed her. “Act natural.”
"What's your name?" Liberty asked in a hushed tone.
"You can call me Lacey," the woman responded, gesturing for Liberty to walk across the bridge. The woman's stiff smile didn't mask the detached coldness in her eyes. "Follow my lead if you want to keep those pictures out of the newspaper headlines tomorrow."
Liberty cast a discreet look around. Aside from a mother and child walking toward the swings, and a passing couple, no one noticed her and the woman. Maintaining her distance, Liberty followed her but remained cautious. "Who are you? Why should I be concerned about those photos?" she asked.
"You may not care now, but you will," replied the woman, adjusting her hat and revealing strands of oily blonde hair.
Liberty halted. "If you expect me to keep listening, I need to know who you are."
With a sigh, Lacey said, "I was getting there. You're so impatient. Do you really have no idea who I am?"
“I suppose you're connected to Reggie somehow. Ex-partner? Romantic partner? Spouse? Did he send you with that envelope?” Liberty overheard the child's laughter, watched her at play for a moment, and was touched by emotion between mother and daughter.
She knew she must be careful not to endanger her child. She had no clue how dangerous this woman’s intentions were.
"Dead men tell no tales, honey," Lacey stated sharply.
Liberty quickly refocused on the woman. "Excuse me?"
“My brother, Reggie, is no longer alive to tell the story behind the photos but I know enough that it could cause a crisis in your perfect family life.” Her sneaky smile returned. “Ready to listen now?”
Liberty struggled with the news of Reggie’s death. "How?" she wondered, questioning if she could trust the woman telling her or if it was a ruse.
Signaling impatience in her thin face, Lacey produced a death certificate from her pocket. Liberty examined it, noting the seal. However, the word "Suicide" listed as the cause of death made Liberty tense up.
She pulled the yellowed and ripped certificate away from Liberty’s view and stuffed it back into her pocket.
“When did he…?” She couldn’t complete the words.
“When he was released from the hospital, you know, the psych unit where they screwed with his head.” A stroke of sadness lit Lacey’s green gaze.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," gasped Liberty, breathless.
"Let's move. There are a lot of nosy people in this town."
Confused, Liberty walked with her to the pavilion by the water, appreciating the chance to stop because she felt dizzy. "I'm sorry, but why are you here? What's your aim? I didn’t have anything to do with his death."
"You may not have done it directly, but you were the instigator. You led him to believe you loved him, he fell for you, and was willing to do anything for you. Then you discarded him as if he was nothing."
"Lacey... I'm not sure what you've been told, but that's not—"
"All rich people think they can treat others poorly because of their wealth." She shook her head, face flushed with anger. "I loved my brother; he was kind and didn't deserve your treatment."
Liberty leaned against the solidity of the rail. “Reggie saw things how he wanted to see them.”
Lacey’s chin tilted. “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”
“What purpose would it gain to draw attention to the past?” Liberty wanted to get to the bottom of things.
“You took his life. There’s no difference if you had pulled the trigger. You need to be held accountable.”
Liberty's resolve seemed to resurface as she raised her head with determination. "If you're so certain about your decision, then do whatever you’re gonna do rather than squandering my time," she said.
Lacey appeared taken aback by Liberty’s unexpected tenacity. "Reggie had his whole future before him. Were you aware that he has a young daughter? She’s only five years old.” Lacey’s laugh took on a scornful tone. “Once more, it's clear you didn't truly understand him, did you?"
“Like I said. Do what you need to do.”
Lacey glanced over her shoulder before she said, “I’m willing to compromise.”
“Compromise or try to extort money out of me?” Liberty saw exactly where this was headed.
“Call it what you’d like. I call it survival.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to try and bribe my family out of something.”
“Imagine all those people reading the headline. Another Rose strikes again.” Lacey pretended to read the headline in the sky, pointing dramatically with her finger. “Are you sure your father’s heart can survive another attack? Or, how about your marriage? What would that handsome cowboy think of his sweet, rich wife when he finds out that she’s fucked the ranch crew like a snotty-nosed cheerleader making her way through the football team.”
Liberty felt a surge of discomfort but kept her composure. "Let's cut to the chase."
"That works." Lacey rested on the railing. "A hundred grand."
Liberty laughed dismissively. "That figure is ridiculous unless it's in pennies."
"Don't act like your family isn't wealthy. It's common knowledge. The Roses' wealth is a hot topic, and to your father, a hundred thousand dollars is nothing."
"For him maybe, but I don't have access to that kind of cash."
"How will your dear father help his favorite daughter?" Lacey advanced and toyed with a lock of Liberty’s hair, twirling it on her finger. "Reggie mentioned you were resourceful. Perhaps hinting at something more. No doubt you'll work out a way to get the money." Letting go of the tendril, she suddenly revealed the scars on her wrist, then quickly covered them.
