The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, Izzy collapsed against the vanity. She leaned over the sink, her breath coming in jagged, silent gasps. Did they see me? How could they not have seen me? The image of the warehouse, the crates, and the man standing directly across from her now flashed in her mind.
Move, Izzy. Move.
She fumbled for her purse, her fingers feeling like lead. She pulled out her phone and sent Caitlin the photo of the manifest with a single line: Get this to Burke. Now.
As soon as the ‘Delivered’ notification popped, she did something that felt like a betrayal of her own life’s work—and of Clara: she deleted the photo and cleared the deleted items folder.
She took a deep breath, applied a fresh coat of crimson lipstick with fingers that still wouldn’t steady, and stared at her reflection until the “Isabella” mask was perfect.
The table was set with fine china and silver. Wade stood, raising a crystal glass. “A toast,” he announced. “To new friendsand old mysteries. To the prosperity of the ridge, and to the lovely Isabella for bringing a bit of class to our mountain table.”
“To the ridge,” Vance repeated, his voice a low threat.
Dinner was a blur of high-stakes theater. Every time Vance asked about her “interest in the local history,” she steered it back to art, to the technique of the sketches, to the market value of mountain landscapes. She played the shallow city girl to perfection.
* * *
After Wade and Vance finally departed, the silence on Cal’s porch was absolute.
“Who is he, Cal?” Izzy asked, leaning against the railing. “Vance Varga. He’s… intense. I’ve never seen anyone like him in Sylva.”
Cal let out a short, dismissive breath, standing behind her. “Vance? Honestly, I don’t know him that well. He’s an associate of my dad’s—his father was an associate of my grandfather’s before him. Some kind of legacy business. Logistics, I think.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “But I don’t get involved in that side of things. I have enough on my plate with the horses and this side of the farm. I prefer to keep my life a lot simpler than my father’s.”
He seemed so sincere, so separate from the darkness of the warehouse, that Izzy almost allowed herself to believe him.
Cal leaned in, his mouth finding hers. It was smooth and confident. For a split second, Grant’s face flashed in her mind—the rain, the tack room, the rejection. No, she thought, shoving the memory away. Grant doesn’t want me. Cal does.
She leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Cal’s neck, deciding to be in the moment, to let the sandalwood cologne and the expensive wine be enough.
The kiss deepened, but Cal took her surrender as a green light. His touch moved from her waist to the curve of her hip, with a force that felt less like passion and more like the same quiet claim she’d seen in Wade’s eyes at the table.
Izzy stiffened. The “gentleman” was gone, replaced by the same “Hollis” entitlement she’d seen in Wade. She broke the kiss, her hands coming up to create space.
“Cal… I can’t,” she breathed. “Tonight… it was just too much. I’m exhausted.”
Something like hurt flashed across his face. Then it calcified. Cal stayed where he was, his eyes dark with a sudden, petulant irritation.
“Right,” he said, his voice clipped and cold. “Thelong nightexcuse.”
“I should get back,” Izzy said, reaching for her bag.
“I’ll drive you,” Cal said. He didn’t ask. He walked toward the silver Escalade, his stride long and stiff, a sulking weight in the dark.
Izzy followed, her heart still hammering. She had survived the dinner and had the photo sent, but as she watched Cal’s rigid silhouette, she realized she had traded a monster for a man who didn’t know how to handle the word “no.”
35
The Drive Home
Cal sat with both hands gripped at ten and two, his profile sharp and unyielding in the glow of the dashboard lights. The sandalwood that had seemed inviting an hour ago now felt thick and cloying in the small space.
Izzy stared out the side window at the dark silhouettes of the passing trees. She could feel the sulk rolling off him in heavy waves, a weight that made her want to reach for the door handle while the car was still moving.
“You’re very quiet,” Cal said, his voice clipped.
“It’s been a long day, Cal. I told you.”
