I gave her my word: I would stay away from Mr. Tomford. I could not risk making her seem weak with her peers. Unable to help myself, I went in for a little chat. That chat had nothing to do with her position at the bank or the Brant Brothers’ loan request. It was about something else entirely. It was one hundred percent about her—and my need to protect her.
“What...whatever do you mean?’
“Maren was worried during our first meeting. Worried you and I were the same. Good ol’ boys who discount her abilities. Maren was dead wrong, of course—I am nothing like you, Arthur,” I declared, glaring at him hiding behind his desk.
“Should I be offended, Mr. Brant?” Mr. Tomford grumbled.
“Oh, no. I suppose not. You ought to be embarrassed. Worried about the entire Brant clan withdrawing our business, as a direct response to your actions. I don’t give a damn if you do not give us the loan—we both know I can get one anywhere. What I give a damn about is you for one second dismissing her instinct or judgment. That if we sat down together, I might get a yes from someone with real decision-making power,” I had scoffed.
“Don’t you think coming to talk to me this way is dismissing her?”
Chuckling darkly, I sat forward, closing in on him to make him nervous. He ought to be—I am serious as a heart attack concerning the woman I love. “I think this is bigger than this bank or a loan. It is me being a good man, coming to warn you what a brilliant, kind, capable woman you have in your ranks. One I hope leaves a place not worthy of her.”
There was a lot more said. Mostly me telling him we do not want his money. Promising him that threat about the Brant’s leaving the bank has already started. My brothers adore Maren. Once they found out how sexist, how rude, how dismissive the bank was being towards her, our minds were made up. Coming to chat with him was more to plant a seed. To let him know to let the others like him know one thing: not to fuck with Maren Carter lest they want to bring the wrath of the Brant Brother’s on their heads.
All day I worried I crossed a line. I saw Maren briefly while Mr. Tomford led me to a meeting with the Wilford Foundation. I almost went to her, to tell her how possessive I was feeling, how protective. I was buzzing with it, with the pride of thinking I was doing what I could to protect her.
In the darkness of the lodge, I am hit with the truth: Ididcross a line because for that brief moment earlier, her pain flashed in her pretty eyes.
“Fuck. Why did I do what she told me not to do?”
As if my internal monologue is answering, I hear a small voice. It kind of sounds like Ethan, the most rational of all of us. “Because you love her so you tried to show it—it was just the most misguided choice.
Tearing my gloves off, I call Maren again. No answer. I try again as I rush out to the truck. Still no answer. I call five more times on my way back to town. I told her I would make myfamous tacos, but something tells me that they’re not so good she is waiting on my doorstep, salsa in hand.
By the time I get to her place, I am afraid of what I will find. Afraid she won’t talk to me at all. That she will be so upset I treated her the one way she demands no one treat her that she won’t even open the door. Parking out front, I rush up the short walk, hesitating just briefly. That roof needs replaced, I think as I stomp up the steps. How did I not see that before?
“Maren? Honey, I think I pissed you off, but we need to talk.”
Knocking again, I send another call to her phone. My girl is stubborn which is something that drew me to her. But I am growing impatient. I have to be sure we’re good. That she is good. Need to be sure I did not upset her enough that she thinks she can lock me out for good.
I told her once she can’t keep me out and I meant it.
Rounding the side of the cottage, I curse when I see more issues with the foundation. Ethan needs to take a look at her place, figure out what we can do about that and the roof too. Then again...my place is in much better shape. It might just be smarter for her to move in with me. Who cares we’ve only been seeing each other a short time. I want her to be safe.
I pass the big bay window where her cute reading nook is. Smiling to myself, I try to picture her there, not reading romances or mysteries but going over numbers. Then I stop in my tracks. Because it’s just dark enough with enough moonlight for the room to be lit up. Pressing my forehead against the glass, I lose my breath, my chest heaving as I gasp for air.
Gone. Everything is gone. Not just a chair or the curtains she hung just a week ago. Everything. There is not a single thing left inside the house. I stumble back, almost losing my footing. No. No, no. No fucking way. I blink several times as if it willchange the very clear picture in front of me. I am unsteady on my feet as I turn to rush towards my truck.
Sliding behind the wheel, I make a call. Tearing away from the curb, I speed towards downtown, gasping for breath. Suddenly, a lou”d hello booms in the cab of the truck, too jovial for the panic I am spiraling in. “Ethan shut up. Listen to me. Maren...she’s gone. I went to her place to talk about my going to warn Mr. Tomford off and...everything is gone. Everything. I have to find her. I can’t let her think.... I can’t let her go.”
“Whoa, calm down, Morgan. I cannot understand what you’re saying. Slow down. What is going on?”
“Maren is trying to leave me. Leave town. Trying to get out of dodge because I fucked up. I can’t let her get out of town. I need to find her. Please...Ethan, please get the guys, go...we have to stop her.”
There is just a beat before he responds. “Head north. I’ll send the other two west and east, I’ll go south. I can call Evie too, I think she trusts her. We will find her, Morgan. I promise.”
His words do little to calm me, but I thank him as I do as he suggests. I aim the truck north, going fast enough to cover ground but slow enough to get a good look down every single street I pass. I am gripping the wheel so tight I fear I might snap it in half. My entire body trembles. I have never been so afraid before. Nothing has ever rattled me the way that empty cottage has.
“What the actual hell, honey? How often am I going to have to chase you?”
Those words echo in the space of the cab. I am falling apart but I can’t do that, I can’t give up. I will find her. Explain that I may have fucked up but it came from a good place. A place I didn’t even know existed before her. I have never felt even a hint of what she makes me feel. There is no way in hell I am giving this up, no way I can possibly give her up.
“Oh, shit,” I shout, slamming on the brakes. Throwing the truck in reverse, I punch the gas, tires squealing on the pavement. I stop in the middle of the street, not giving a shit about traffic or anything else. I sit there for a moment, staring off in the darkness. I drag in a painful breath. “Oh, honey...there you are.”
Sitting in the parking lot of the motel, where we had that first night together, is her unmistakable Range Rover. Sticks out in a town like True Ridge where it’s work trucks or basic mom SUV’s. Never had an opinion about the flashier vehicle—now I am glad for it. Wasting no time, I pull in beside her, waiting long enough to call off the search party.
“Found her. Might need you at the motel,” I bark out without so much as a hello—my brothers will forgive a bad attitude due to the circumstances.
