Mixing Temptation (8 page)

“I'm so glad Ryan talked her into a trip. I haven't seen her in years,” Lily mused. “I know she wanted to get far, far away from her mom's farm, but it's like she moved to California and never looked back.”

“You don't need to worry about her, Caroline,” Noah added. “She was always a little wild and never played by the rules. The cops in this town are probably still looking for Helena in connection to half a dozen pranks.”

“Helena's a lot of fun,” Dominic added as he pulled glass after glass from the rack and arranged them in a neat line. “We used to go four-­wheeling out on her mother's farm.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You would have had fun if you'd joined us, Lil.”

Lily gave a fake shudder. “Getting covered in mud was never my idea of a good time. Unlike Helena, I didn't want to find clumps of hay in my hair the next day.”

“I would have helped you wash your hair, Lil,” Dominic drawled.

Lily laughed. And Caroline tried to use the moment to slip away. She would rather have a conversation with the now empty industrial dishwasher than an air force officer.

“Looks like we're late to the party,” a familiar male voice called.

Lily caught hold of Caroline's arm. She glanced down at Lily's bright pink nails. “You don't have to go,” Lily whispered. “Stay and meet Helena. You'll like her. And you already know Ryan.”

Caroline nodded and took a step back as if she could disappear into the shadows. But the area near the bar was well lit, unlike some of the corners behind the subwoofer stacks near the DJ stage. Still, the new arrivals weren't looking at her. They were focused on their friends—­or at least the man in air force dress blues was too busy shaking Noah's hand to notice her. The woman—­Helena—­she kept her gaze fixed on her shoes.

No one rushed forward to greet her. Noah, Dominic, and Lily—­they all stared at her. And Caroline could understand their hesitation. They were probably scared they'd wrinkle her because the mud-­loving, four-­wheeling farm girl looked like she'd walked off the pages of a fashion magazine. From her Prada stilettos to her fitted white Capri-­length jeans to her tailored pale-­pink blouse, this woman looked like she would scream and run if she saw a cow.

As for mud or hay in her hair? Caroline couldn't picture the newcomer with a single strand of her blond bob out of place. She was sleek, slim, and wearing enough makeup to keep her face looking picture perfect from morning till night, and probably beyond.

For the first time since she'd arrived in Forever, Oregon, Caroline felt like she might fit in here. Sure, it was only by comparison to the long lost Helena. Still—­

Ryan stepped closer to the Prada Princess and went to put his arm around her. The perfect, put together woman flinched as if he might hit her. It was a small movement. Maybe the others hadn't noticed, Caroline thought, because a split second later, Helena allowed her best friend from childhood to drape his arm across her shoulder.

Ryan gave her a tepid squeeze and then withdrew his hand. One look at the officer's face and Caroline suspected he'd seen his friend react as if he might hurt her. The tall man in the dress uniform appeared equal parts hurt and mystified.

But Caroline knew. Looking at Helena . . . it was like staring into a mirror and seeing her own reflection from a year ago. Not the clothes or the hair, but the way Helena held herself apart as if she craved isolation—­as if she wanted to make herself somehow less. The clothes were a shell, but they didn't offer this woman assurance. If Helena had been sure of herself at some point, her confidence had been stripped away.

Caroline didn't know this woman's story. She doubted Helena's childhood friends knew the hows and whys behind her transformation. But she recognized that island of complete loneliness. She'd lived there and she knew without asking that Helena hadn't brought herself to this place.

 

Chapter 7

C
AROLINE SLIPPED IN
TO
the back room while the circle of high school friends struggled to make small talk with their old friend. The questions echoed in the nearly empty barroom and drifted through the swinging door.

Did she like California?

Yes.

Had she made new friends?

Some.

Helena was the queen of stiff, one-­word answers. When asked if she worked, she told them she'd tried acting, but then she'd met Ashford. And she'd given up the starving artist life when she married him. Helena punctuated the explanation with a laugh that sounded like it had been tried and tested at country club cocktail parties—­or maybe in her old acting classes.

But the visit continued, moving in stops and starts. Helena asked a few questions about the bar before slipping back into her stunted responses when Lily pressed for more details about the amazing Ashford. He worked in the catchall field of ‘business' and liked golf.

Laughter spilled in from the front and Caroline wondered if she'd imagined the other woman's loneliness. Maybe talking to Josh about how she'd felt trying to navigate through a world where the man who was hurting her maintained his position of power had led her to project her feelings. She'd never met this woman before. And while she could tell Helena had changed after she'd moved away, that didn't mean—­

The door leading to the bar's public space swung open and Caroline instinctively moved closer to the dishwasher. But Helena clearly hadn't rushed out of the bar's front room to see her. The Prada Princess held her cell phone pressed to her ear.

“I'm sorry,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I didn't know you were taking an earlier flight—­”

From halfway across the room, Caroline heard a male voice shouting what sounded an awful lot like
you left without telling me. I didn't give you permission.

Why would Helena sneak away to visit her hometown? And why would she need permission?

The rest of the words were lost, but she clearly heard “you bitch” and “come home now.”

“Yes,” Helena said. “I will.” Then she closed her eyes and lowered the phone. Tears streamed down her face.

It was none of her business, but Caroline stepped forward, her steel-­toed boots pressing into the squishy rubber mat that covered the floor beside the dishwasher.

Helena opened her eyes and turned to her. “I'm sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn't realize—­”

“You don't need to apologize to me,” Caroline said. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She wiped at her eyes, smearing her mascara over and around her eyes. “I just need to freshen up. Is there a bathroom back here?”

“If you need help—­” Caroline began again.

Helena forced a smile. “I'm sorry you heard our little fight.”

“That was an attack.”

Helena's mascara-­rimmed eyes widened. “No,” she said firmly. “I forgot to tell him that I'd planned a quick trip up here. I just forgot . . .”

It was a lie. She'd heard the way the man on the phone barked the word ‘permission.' He controlled her. Whether he hurt her physically or just used his words, it all amounted to the same thing—­abuse.

“You don't have to go back,” Caroline said.

“Yes, I do,” she said.

And maybe Helena was right. Maybe she did need to return to Ashford. Maybe leaving him wouldn't solve anything. After all, running away had delivered Caroline to world of new problems.

“I can't leave,” Helena continued, but this time her voice broke over the words. “He'd come after me. He'd stop sending money to my mom. And . . . he doesn't hurt me.”

“Helena?” Ryan's voice called from the front. “There's a limo waiting outside for you.”

“Be right there,” Helena called back, her tone suddenly light and upbeat.

She should have stuck with acting,
Caroline thought.

But rewriting the past was impossible. And in some cases, so was moving on.

Helena's gaze darted around the room. “The bathroom?”

“Over there.” Caroline pointed to a door on the far side on the room near the desk. “Take your time,” she added. “I'll tell them you'll be out soon.”

“Thank you,” Helena whispered, the falsely positive note gone from her voice.

Caroline shook her head. “You don't need to thank me. I don't think I'm helping you.”

But Helena had already locked herself in the staff bathroom.

“
W
HAT THE HELL
happened to her?” Noah demanded when Ryan marched through the employee entrance to the bar.

“A designer clothes explosion,” Lily murmured.

“I haven't seen Helena since before I left for basic training,” Noah continued. “But I swear, if I saw her walking down the street, I wouldn't have recognized her.”

Caroline closed the dishwasher and set it to run. Then she turned and headed for the group surrounding the air force officer. Noah, Dominic, and Lily had left Josie in charge of the now open bar to have a ‘serious conversation' with Ryan after he returned from walking Helena out to meet her limo driver.

“She sure as shit isn't the same Helena we knew in high school,” Dominic said. “I know ­people change. Hell, we all have. But not like that.”

“She died her hair blond,” Lily added. “Her beautiful, long brown hair. And I couldn't even see a single freckle beneath all that makeup.”

Because her husband told her to,
Caroline thought.

The group of old friends stood near the door leading to the employee parking area. A wall lined with beer cases and kegs, some filled and others empty, occupied the space beside the group. And the desk, covered in stacks of paper, lined the far wall by the door leading to the employee bathroom Helena had used to pull herself back together.

But no one was looking at the mess—­or even sparing her a glance. They were all focused on Ryan, waiting for his answer.

Ryan shook his head. “I don't know. But I'm planning to go to Palo fucking Alto and figure out what the hell is going on. I should have gone years ago when she stopped visiting her mom. Or letting anyone go down there to see her. I called her mother after she rushed out of here and jumped in that damn limo. Helena's mom hasn't been down to see her in four years. It's never a ‘good time' for her husband.”

“Shit,” Noah said, shaking his head.

“And I got the sense her mom doesn't want to make waves because Helena sends money every month,” Ryan added bitterly. “They never had much, but to bury your head in the sand to your daughter's problems in exchange for a paycheck?”

“That's a little harsh,” Lily said. “You don't know the full story. Helena might be perfectly happy—­”

“He's hurting her,” Ryan growled. “I don't know if he's hitting her. But he's doing something.”

“Sure that's not jealousy talking?” Lily asked gently.

“Ryan's never had a thing for expensive clothes,” Dominic said.

Lily narrowed her blue eyes at her boyfriend. “I meant jealous of Helena's husband, what's his name.”

“Ashford,” Ryan spat out.

“At your going away party,” Lily continued, turning now to Ryan. “The night before you all left—­”

“Nothing happened,” Ryan said. “We started messing around. Last night in town and all, but it felt too weird. Like kissing my sister. So I ended it and got the hell out of there, pulling my damn shirt back on as fast as I could. And afterward . . . I always figured that's why she kept her distance. Maybe it felt too weird. Maybe she needed space. And then she got married.”

“You think her husband hits her?” Dominic said. He didn't raise his voice. But there was an undercurrent of steel in the former army ranger's tone.

“He's doing something,” Ryan growled. “She cut her hair for him. Dyed it for him. I asked her about it when I picked her up at her mom's place. She said, ‘Ash likes it.' She didn't laugh once on the drive over.”

“You can't walk away from the air force on a hunch,” Dominic said.

“He's right,” Caroline cut in. She couldn't keep quiet, standing by and listening while they explained Helena's problems away. It was too easy. She knew from experience.

Sure you didn't send mixed signal
s? Are you certain you didn't flirt with him?

Almost everyone Caroline had told about Dustin tried to minimize or shift the blame. Some held the military culture responsible. And some placed the fault on her shoulders.

Of course that was different. She'd come forward. Helena had stood in here and told her she was ‘fine.' She'd said her husband wasn't hurting her.

But Helena still felt she couldn't leave. And that wasn't right. Everyone should have the right to walk away.

Caroline drew a deep breath and told Helena's friends about the phone call and their conversation afterward.

“That's it,” Ryan snapped. “I'm going down there and I'm bringing her back here. If he tries to come after her—­”

“How much more leave do you have?” Dominic demanded.

Caroline rested her hands on the stainless steel table that separated the dishwasher from the rest of the storage room/office. She suspected she knew his answer. The thought of hearing those words sent a chill down her spine.

“I'm not going back,” Ryan said firmly.

“You can't go AWOL,” Noah said without looking at her.

“What do you plan to do when you get there?” Dominic demanded. “Have a chat with her husband? You'll need to hang out for a while to get a sense of what is going on. And if you're wrong, you'll be in a helluva lot of trouble.”

“He's right,” Noah added. “You can't walk away from the air force to follow up on an old friend. I'll go.”

“And leave your wife and child?” Ryan shot back.

Caroline walked around the edge of the stainless steel table and headed for the bickering group. “I'll go,” she announced, standing behind Lily.

Four heads turned toward her.

“What?” Ryan's movie star brow furrowed. “You don't even know her. Just because you overheard her talking to her husband—­”

“I do know her.” Caroline kept her tone strong and even.

“What the hell? Are you from Palo Alto?” Ryan cocked his head.

She shook her head. “I know how she feels. Alone. Afraid. I've been there. Most days, I still am. I can help her.”

Maybe.

But she suspected she had a better shot than Ryan. He might love her like a sister, but he still loved her. And bonus, Caroline had already tossed away her military career.

“No,” Noah snapped. “You can't go, Caroline.”

“Looks like I missed the party.” Josh's happy-­go-­lucky voice sliced through the tension as he pushed open the door leading to the staff parking area. “Change your mind about letting her take a dinner break, boss?”

“Your girlfriend just volunteered to visit California,” Lily said.

Josh turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “We're going on a road trip?”

“No.” She looked straight into his beautiful green eyes. “Just me.”

“Forgetting that you don't have a car or a license?” Josh said. “I happen to have both. And a pile of vacation days ready and waiting to take my girl on a trip.”

“I'll manage on my own. I don't need to drag you into this.”

Or the little side mission she'd been plotting since Ryan first announced his intentions to follow Helena to California.

It had been over a year since she'd run away fearing Dustin was hot on her trail, ready to turn her in—­or worse. And listening to Helena, she'd realized that running came with its own issues.

She needed to see for herself that her former CO no longer posed a threat. On her way down to Palo Alto, she planned to swing by Dustin's hometown. But no one needed to know that part of her plan.

“So you're dumping me?” Josh asked. “Before the third date?”

“Josh—­”

“I don't pretend, Caroline.” He pushed through the group and headed for her. Lily stepped aside to make room for him.

She could have backed away. Ran. But no, she was done rushing off at the first hint of fear. And Josh didn't frighten her. Although if she stepped back and thought about his public insistence that they were honest to God dating she might say . . .

Yes, join me.

He stopped within arm's reach and raised his hand. His finger brushed her right cheek. “And I have a rule about letting my girlfriend walk or, hell, hitchhike across state lines.”

“You and your damn rules,” she muttered.

He smiled and lowered his hand. “I'll take that as a yes. When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow. First thing.”

He nodded. “I'll pick you up at seven. And I'll bring the coffee and doughnuts. Seeing as this will be our third official date and all.”

“Before you go,” Ryan jumped in. “We need to talk.”

“I'm listening,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on Josh while Ryan demanded to know her plan.

Josh had changed into a long-­sleeve, button-­down shirt for their one-­hour dinner date. He'd dressed up for her. He liked her. But if they had any hope of moving beyond ‘like,' she needed to face her past. She would knock down her fears one by one on this trip. And then maybe they would have a chance at something more. She would still face the threat of arrest. But a fugitive's happy-­ever-­after was better than nothing.

She glanced at the man who'd traded his go-­to flannel for a dress shirt. She'd heard him talk about his siblings. His brothers and sister had their ups and downs on their way to happy-­ever-­after. But now they were living the dream—­Josh's dream. There was even a rumor that his oldest brother, Brody, planned to adopt a child soon. And she knew for a fact his sister was expecting her first child in five or so months.