Hard Impact: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel (30 page)

With a last smile, I turned and walked quickly out of the greenhouse, my heart thumping with uncertainty. Well, that was that. I knew what else I needed to do. I would go back to the cabin, make a couple of phone calls, and make arrangements to get back to San Francisco. This had gone far enough and I was done. I realized as soon as I saw Blake’s cancer-stricken mother that I didn’t have the heart to dig into the woman’s past. I wasn’t the bulldog journalist, the type to get the story no matter what. I didn’t have the come-hell-or-high-water attitude that many of my fellow journalists possessed.

Disappointed in myself yet relieved at the same time, I walked quickly through the nursery and out to the front, pulling my cell phone from my pocket, prepared to dial the taxi service again. But first, I had one call to make.

My heart thumped. With every second, I grew angrier. I dialed, my mouth dry, my stomach tied up in knots regarding my sudden decision. But I knew, deep down, that it was the right one.

“Sweet Success,” the receptionist answered.

“Heidi, this is Misty Rankin. Is Angela in?”

“Yes, let me connect you.”

I knew I was doing the right thing, and although I had no idea what I would do next, when or where I would find another job, I needed to get this over with. I heard the connection going through. Seconds later, Angela’s sharp voice. “Misty, how’s the interview going?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I would be leaving town with Mr. Masters?” I asked. I didn’t wait for her to answer. “I just want you to know that I don’t appreciate it.”

“What did you say?” Angela asked, her voice harsh and surprised.

“You heard me,” I said. “Oh, and by the way, I quit.”

I disconnected the call. Well, that was that. My ears were ringing, my heart was pounding, but I knew I’d done the right thing. I would find another job, I knew that. Even if I had to go back home to Texas.
Sweet Success
wasn’t the only magazine out there. And I could certainly do better, couldn’t I?

I could, dammit! Head down, I began to dial for the taxi service. I wasn’t watching where I was going and barreled into someone. I lifted my head, mouth open, blurting an apology.

“I’m so sorry—” My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Oh, Lord. “Blake! What are you doing here?”

He stared down at me in equal surprise. Then a dark scowl formed. “I might ask the same of you.” His tone was short, clipped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I couldn’t lie about it. “I-I found out that your mother owned this place—”

“You’ve bothered my mother?”

His voice was low, deep, and dark with anger. He grasped my upper arm and none too gently walked me over to his truck. “Get in.”

“Blake, I—”

“Get in!”

He didn’t shout. On the contrary, his voice was low. Eerily calm. Nevertheless, I sensed he was furious. I almost refused, but decided not to cause a scene in front of his mother’s nursery. I didn’t think for a minute that Blake would put a hand on me. At best, he would drive me to the airport and put me on a plane back to San Francisco.

But first I needed to explain. “Blake, I—”

“Not yet,” he snapped. He started the engine and pulled the truck out of the driveway, careful not to kick up dirt from the tires onto customers. Halfway down the dirt road from the nursery to the asphalt highway, however, he picked up speed.

I glanced at his profile, harsh in the sunlight. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, his back ramrod straight.

“Blake, listen to me—”

He didn’t look at me as he harshly interrupted. “This interview is between you and me! I told you I would answer some of your questions. Not all of them, but some of them. How dare you go behind my back and sneak around to talk to my mother!”

“I’m sorry, Blake, but you should know—”

“She’s recovering from
surgery!
She’s going through chemo treatments!” His voice cracked with emotion. “What were you thinking?”

Tears flooded my eyes and I swallowed. “Blake, I’m sorry,” I cried. I meant it. “I didn’t know… the moment I saw your mother, I knew I couldn’t—”

He pulled off onto the side of the road. A cloud of dust enveloped the truck as he slammed it into park, turned off the engine, and turned toward me.

“I’m so angry with you right now. And disappointed. I can’t believe you—”

“I quit, Blake!” I interrupted, my voice cracking with stress. All my pent-up emotion rushed to the surface. A tear slipped out of the corner of my eye and I angrily swiped at it. “I called the magazine. I quit! Do you hear me?” My voice rose shrilly as Blake stared at me, obviously surprised by my outburst. “I didn’t ask your mother any questions, Blake! I didn’t invade her privacy. I didn’t invade yours!”

More tears threatened to spill and I passed a hand over my eyes, clutched my forehead for several brief seconds before looking back at him. “I can’t… this is not who I am. Your mother… she’s a sweetheart, Blake. I knew the minute I saw her that I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do it to you. I—”

“You quit?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm. “What do you mean, you quit? You can’t quit.”

“Well, I did!” I exclaimed. “I just called Angela and told her I quit! Do you think I
wanted
to open your wounds? To talk about a horrible tragedy in your past? That’s not what I wanted to do when I got a job at that magazine!” The words gushed from my mouth in a torrent. “I thought I wanted to be a journalist, Blake, but if this is what it entails, I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

He said nothing for several moments. One hand on the steering wheel, the other draped along the back of the seats, he stared at me.

“My father wasn’t murdered,” he said quietly.

The change of subject startled me. I gulped in a breath, my chest hitching with a stifled sob as I stared at him. “What?” I asked, confused.

He sighed. “My father wasn’t murdered. He committed suicide.”

I was rendered speechless and dumbfounded. I couldn’t have been more shocked. “I don’t understand…”

He stared out the windshield for a moment, and then looked at me. He studied my features, then reached out with one hand to gently wipe a tear from my cheek. He spoke, his voice so calm after his anger seconds earlier.

“I got home from school one day. My mom was gone, I can’t remember where she was, some kind of lunch reception or something.”

“Blake, you don’t have to tell—”

“It was a Wednesday. My dad usually worked in his home office on Wednesdays, so I went to his office and knocked on the door to let him know I was home. He didn’t answer. When I walked in, I saw him—”

“Blake,” I said. I leaned toward him, placing my hand over the hand that still tightly gripped the steering wheel. “Please, you don’t have to—”

He looked at me and continued. “He was lying on the floor, his head surrounded by a pool of blood. A gun was in his hand.” He dipped his head and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I took the gun from his hand, shoved it in my pants. I didn’t want my mom to see that, to know… that he had… Jeremy Masters, committing suicide? Impossible.”

My heart pounded dully in my chest. I could see the pain written all over Blake’s features. The memories he was reliving. “Oh my God…”

“Anyway, being a stupid teenager, I tried to make it look like it was a home invasion or a robbery. Then I ran outside to the copse of trees behind the house and buried his gun.” He shrugged, closed his eyes as the memories flooded back. “I went back to the house, called nine-one-one. By the time my mom came home, the yard was swarming with cops.”

“Blake, why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”

He shrugged. “I was a kid. I didn’t want my mom to know that my dad killed himself. Didn’t want her to see him like that… the mess on the floor…” He turned to me. “I didn’t want anyone in town to know. I didn’t think it was anyone’s business, and I didn’t want my mom to know that her husband, her partner, her best friend, had killed himself… abandoned her, abandoned me, leaving us to pick up the pieces.”

“But how—”

“Forensics are wonderful things, aren’t they?” he asked with a wry smile. “It didn’t take long for the cops to find out that my dad had been killed with a close contact gunshot wound. An autopsy. Powder burns, I guess. And then the search dogs found the gun. With my fingerprints all over it.”

“Oh my God,” I repeated. I scooted closer to Blake on the bench seat of the truck. Wrapped my arms around him. He didn’t resist. “Didn’t you tell them what happened?”

“Eventually,” he said. “They interrogated me for something like ten hours, I can’t remember. It’s all such a blur. Nevertheless, the paper reported what they wanted. They knew I was at the police station, and that I was there for hours. They put two and two together. But they came up with the wrong conclusion. By the time I was released, the rumors had already spread like wildfire. Nothing could stop it. Since I was a juvenile, my statement involving the case was sealed.”

I felt my heart twist with sympathy for him. He had tried to save his father’s reputation. He had tried to protect his mother. He had nearly sacrificed himself, gone to prison, could have gone to prison for something he didn’t do. “And your mom… did she ever find out the truth?”

He offered a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. He glanced at me again, his gaze filled with pain. Regret.

“You want to know something? She knew all along. I didn’t find out until a couple of years later, after we’d left Topeka and the scandal behind. For a while at least. But then the rumors, the innuendo, the gossip caught up to us. She ignored it and bought the nursery here in Jackson Hole. We started over. I lived here for a couple of years until I went off to college.” He shook his head. “They left my mom alone, and she made a comfortable life for herself here.”

“But the rumors followed you, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Then, just after college, my mom told me the truth. She knew my father had committed suicide. She told me he’d been having issues, didn’t get into details, but knew that he was troubled. She had never believed I had anything to do with his death. She knew that I was just trying to protect her from the truth. Funny thing, what mothers know, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “They know everything, Blake. Even our deepest, darkest secrets.”

He said nothing.

“I’ll keep your secret, Blake,” I promised. “I want you to know that.” I took a deep breath. “I understand if you want me to leave, but I want you to know before I do that I’ve come to truly admire you… I can’t claim to know you well, but I do know that you couldn’t have done anything to hurt anyone.” I paused, needing to get it all out.
The truth will set you free…
“I’m attracted to you, Blake, I can’t deny it, but I don’t—”

My words were silenced as his lips pressed against mine, his arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me close. I felt not only a great sense of relief, but satisfaction and pride in myself. I
had
done the right thing. It felt so right. I was glad I made the decision to quit the magazine. Yes, my future was uncertain at the moment, but I didn’t regret my decision, not one bit.

The kiss deepened and his tongue slid between my lips and probed my mouth. I surrendered myself to it, groaning softly, the sound coming from deep inside me. I didn’t know where to go from here, but while I was in Blake’s arms, I would revel in the moment. Live in the moment. My hands caressed his chest, then slowly made their way toward his thigh. I felt his erection and thrilled with the knowledge that I could elicit such a passionate response from him.

Ready to relinquish my burgeoning passion, Blake lifted his head, staring down at me, his eyes filled with questions.

“What is it about you that attracts me so?” he asked, not really speaking to me, but perhaps to himself.

I smiled up at him. “My winning personality?”

He grinned. “Let’s head back, shall we? And I’ll show you exactly what it is that attracts me so much to you.”

I sidled back to my side of the truck as Blake reached for the ignition and turned the key. I fastened my seatbelt as he pulled the truck off the side of the road and back onto the highway, heading back to the Camp Robber, where I was sure that pleasure awaited.

What would happen next, I had no idea. I had no expectations but I realized that that was okay. For now, I would live in the moment.

The future would bring what the future would bring.

Misty

T
he next few weeks passed in a whirlwind for me. Blake and I had spent several more days at the Camp Robber, indulging in each other’s company. Every day I felt my affection for him growing. Now that the pressure was off, at least in regard to the magazine, I could truly relax around him.

He had told me the truth about his father’s death. Trusted me with his most painful secret. I couldn’t explain how good that made me feel. I knew I would keep his revelation to myself. If Blake wanted to tell others, that was up to him. It was his story to tell. I was satisfied with that.

I had fallen in love with him. I admitted that to myself on the way back to the ranch from his mother’s nursery. I had loved him before that, I realized. Maybe I had fallen in love with him after I’d fallen off the four-wheeler and he kissed me for the first time. Maybe when we were falling from the sky together. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, and it didn’t really matter.

I loved him.

I couldn’t help but feel that he was experiencing many of the same emotions. Even though we’d only known each other a short time, we connected on a deep, personal level. Now that the magazine and my assignment was out of the way, we both relaxed. With every passing day, I felt like we had been kindred spirits forever.

We spent many hours together with Eileen. On my second day in Jackson Hole, Eileen had pulled me aside and given me a hug. I was surprised by the gesture.

“I don’t know what you did, Misty,” she said, “but I can sense a change in my son. No matter what happens, I want to thank you for that.”