I couldn’t look away. The man was breathtaking.
He’d just completed a trio of aerial flips, when he froze. There he stood motionless for several breathless seconds before pivoting to stare me dead in the eye. Music screamed around us while his chest pumped up and down. He regarded me intently, appearing to deliberate before snatching a towel from a metal chair. Then he stalked to the sound system right next to me and punched a button, cutting the roaring bass to a raspy whisper.
His face was an iron mask as he rubbed the blue towel in a lazy circle over his rock-hard stomach. He had narrow hips and long arms roped with veins and sculpted muscles that rippled underneath his glistening skin. An indigo tattoo of thorns bordered his right bicep.
Another tattoo, that of a fire-breathing dragon, covered the tanned swell of his left pec, and his massive chest had a light dusting of hair that disappeared down the tightest washboard abs I’d ever seen.
His gray and white underwear peeked out from beneath a pair of low-slung jeans. The logo OBVIOUSLYembroidered the elastic waistband, with a♂ symbol replacing the second ‘O.’
I swallowed, but the lump wouldn’t go down. “Um. I-I remember you used to dance alone in the carriage house when you…when you were upset. You said it helped—”
“How’d you get in?”
The sharpness in his tone pushed me into a blinking fit. “I still have a set of keys from the sale. Cholly never—”
“Who told you I was here?”
If he aimed to rattle me, mission accomplished. “I went to your house, then to Cholly’s. After that, the garage. It was a simple process of elimination.”
He scrubbed the towel through his hair. Despite the sweat pouring off his skin, he smelled shower-fresh. “What do you want?”
“What do you think I want? I had to be sure…I needed to—” I tossed a hand. “Are you okay?”
“If you’re worried I’m going to pop off again, don’t. I’ve made peace with it already. Whatever happens…happens. It’s all good.”
“Well, nothing’s going to happen. I took care of everything.”
He hung the towel around his neck. “And that means what exactly?”
“No one’s pressing charges. Another scandal is the last thing my family wants. I also spoke with someone about Cholly’s liquor license and the other delays. Everything should be cleared up by next week.” I drew a steadying breath. “Oh, and Jerome Dillon got the library contract. I called him myself with the news. He said to tell you the job is yours if you’re still interested. They’ll be starting up in the spring.”
Momentary surprise softened his expression. As the seconds wore on, his lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but they hung open, voicing no sound. In the end, he nodded curtly, mumbled a, “Thanks,” then turned away to poke at some buttons on the stereo unit.
A sultry acoustic guitar instrumental whispered over the sound system as he made adjustments to the mixer.
“I’m sorry for the pain my family caused you.” I clasped my hands. “I swear I didn’t know what they were up to.”
He braced the table. “I never thought you did, Shannon.”
Those six words allowed me to breathe again, but I still needed to tell him what I’d longed to say at Briar. What I should’ve said at my office. Yet from his resigned tone and the tension in his shoulders, I sensed he had something more to say, so I waited on him.
“Listen,” he began, his back still to me. “I know I told you I don’t give a shit what the town thinks—and I don’t—but I can’t ignore the victims any more. They keep piling up. Cholly. His daddy. Bev…Mama.” He sighed long and hard. “Anyway, I’ve been chewing on somethin’ since I left the cemetery. And…um, with all that’s been going on, I figure the only way I can protect the folks I care about is to clear my name. The town won’t leave them alone otherwise.” He slowly turned to face me. “So in light of what you did for me and Cholly today—well, if you still want my help, you got it.”
My shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh, God. Really?”
“Yeah.” He gave a resigned nod and gripped both ends of the towel hanging from his neck. “In fact, I’m working on an idea, but I gotta make a few calls. You can come by my house tomorrow at five. I should have somethin’ by then.”
That I finally had someone on my side made me want to weep. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I gushed.
He leveled a palm. “Hold up. There’s nothin’ concrete—”
“No, no, that’s fine. I’m just happy you’re—” I cupped a hand over my giddy smile. “I swear you won’t regret this.”
“I’m sure I won’t.” He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and tore off the foil. “When we’re done, nobody will doubt my innocence. Not even you.”
That last bit nipped at my heart. “Trace?”
“What?” he asked folding the gum into his mouth.
My tongue got stuck the moment our eyes latched, yet in my mind, the words flowed with ease.
He’d come to my office in lieu of calling. He’d apologized for doubting my honesty. He’d confessed that he’d resented my testimony, even though he didn’t want to admit it to himself.
With his life on the line, he’d refused to let his attorney cross-examine me. Would a guilty man do that? Would a murdering psychopath put a girl’s welfare above his own?
No, but a hero would.
Yes, I had a bad memory, but the sweet boy I’d grown up with didn’t murder anyone.
That sort of evil just wasn’t in him.
“Well?” he prompted, chewing his gum.
I pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Okay, I need you to understand what I’m up against. How difficult it is for me to trust you or anyone. Especially since I don’t even trust myself.” Shaking my head, I glanced off. “When I think about all I’ve either suppressed or forgotten, I get…nauseous. No lie. But you want to know what really makes me sick? My family. I’ve known them my entire life, so I should be able to trust them, right? But I can’t because they’ve done nothing but lie to me. And after today, I’m convinced they have a secret agenda.” I paused for a beat. “But you don’t.”
His hard expression flatlined. “Shannon….”
“No, I want you to hear this. It took a lot of courage for you to come back here. Especially given the backlash you’re facing. All you wanted was to live your life and you didn’t care if the town thought you were guilty. You only cared if I did.” I nodded. “I totally get that now. So, yes, I trust you and I’m sorry for doubting your word. I know you didn’t kill Mother.”
He was silent for a long moment.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, uncertain. “If you trust me, why’d you flinch when I tried to touch you the other day?”
Talk about coming out of nowhere. “It-it wasn’t you.”
“That’s funny, seeing how I was the only one there.” A shadow crossed his face. “You did the same thing in the limo.”
“I know, but honestly, it’s not you. I think it has something to do with Mother—with the abuse. It’s a reflex action. I’ve had it since she died.”
The tension around his eyes eased, but skepticism still shaded them. “Is that the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He eyed me for a languid moment. Then, without another word, he grabbed my purse, tugged off my coat and tossed them. After that, he went for the sound system and punched some buttons. A couple moments later, an old song, Terence Trent D'Arby’s “Sign Your Name” oozed from the speakers.