“Be ready and don’t keep me waiting. I promise you won’t like it if you do.”
He hung up, and she realized she was trembling.
She sat there for a long moment, the van idling in the middle of the empty road, snow falling softly around her. Part of her wanted to turn around, drive back to her cottage, and hide. But a bigger part—the part that had survived Harley Whitlock, that had clawed her way out of poverty and built a life from nothing—refused to run.
The only way she was going anywhere with Clive Wallace was if he dragged her there. And she had a feeling Beckett Hamilton would have something to say about that.
She put the van in drive and continued toward Hamilton House.
She needed to tell him, but she’d been too ashamed. Too afraid that somehow this would prove she wasn’t worth the trouble.
But Beckett deserved the truth. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face this alone.
Chapter Thirteen
She’d almost gotten herself under control by the time she pulled into the driveway at Hamilton House.
It was just past five o’clock and she knew Beckett would still be in the barn overseeing the evening feeding, so she at least had time to compose herself before he noticed anything was wrong. But when she walked into the house, she was surprised to find company.
“Marnie,” Judy Hamilton said, her face beaming in greeting. She crossed the kitchen to pull Marnie into a hug. “I hope you don’t mind us crashing dinner tonight. Carson and I are leaving for Hawaii tomorrow morning—he finally talked me into getting out of this snow—and I wanted to see you before we left.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Marnie said. “You’re always welcome.”
She’d been nervous meeting Beckett’s parents the first time. She’d heard stories about Judy—that she was a real hard charger. People either spoke of her with reverence and awe or pure terror.
But Judy had looked her over once and said, “You look like good people to me.” And then she’d hugged her, and that had been that.
They didn’t see each other often because Beckett’s parents lived an active social life and believed in giving their son his privacy. But Judy had always treated her with a motherly warmth that still surprised her.
“We’re supposed to have another foot of snow by the weekend,” Judy said.
Marnie groaned. “That should make some of my outdoor photo shoots interesting.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Judy laid the back of her hand to Marnie’s cheek. “You look peaked.”
“Just a headache I can’t shake.”
Judy clucked like a mother hen. “Why don’t you go rest a little before the boys get in from the barn? They’ll be another half hour at least.”
“I think I’ll do that, thanks,” she said, glad for the escape.
She retreated to the guest room she used when she stayed over—the same one Beckett had shown her to that first snowy night—and sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to think of Clive and what she’d do when he showed up. And he would show up. He didn’t make empty promises.
She must have dozed for a while because she woke to a soft knock at the door.
“Marnie?” Beckett’s voice came through the wood. “You awake?”
“Come in.”
He opened the door, freshly showered and dressed in clean jeans and a blue flannel shirt that made his eyes look almost silver. His hair was still damp at the ends.
“Mom said you weren’t feeling good.” He crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his. “You were out cold when I peeked in earlier. Didn’t want to wake you.”
“Just a headache. I feel better now.”
He studied her face, and she knew he could see right through her. She’d never been good at hiding things from him.
“You don’t have to come down for dinner,” he said. “They’ll understand if you’re not well.”
