Stirring Up Trouble (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A bolt of unadulterated shock straightened Gavin’s spine, and he barked out a completely involuntary laugh at Bree’s words.

“That’s ridiculous. Why on earth would you think she was going to Greece?”

“Because she booked a one-way ticket. It says so right here. She’s leaving next Friday, and she’s not coming back.” Bree held the paper out, eyes brimming with tears. “She was never going to stay. See for yourself.”

A deep-seated voice at the back of his mind screamed at Gavin not to take the paper from Bree’s trembling fingers. Sloane wouldn’t leave. Sure, she’d traveled the world on a whim in the past, but things were different now. She knew how much Bree needed her, how much he needed her. She wouldn’t do that to him.

She wouldn’t do that to
them
.

He took the paper from her shaking hands, but didn’t look at it. “Bree, I think this is a misunderstanding. Where did you even get this?” The single piece of paper felt like a ten-ton weight between his suddenly unsteady fingers.

“I found it on the printer when I went to get my English homework. And it’s not a misunderstanding. Have you looked at Sloane’s Web site?”

His confusion deepened, shifting and kicking like a live entity. “What does her Web site have to do with any of this?”

Tears spilled over Bree’s cheeks, her mouth an angry line. “All her books are set in foreign places. And her biography page says she’s been to all of them, you know, for research and stuff. That part of what inspires her is being in all these countries and experiencing them first-hand. And
that’s
how she writes a book.”

Gavin’s mind took a hard tumble back to the morning when Sloane had run her fingers so reverently over the picture frames in the living room, telling him she’d walked the Via Francigena in Tuscany. France . . . Spain . . . Italy . . . she went wherever the wind carried her, whenever she felt like going. And she wrote a book, fueling her livelihood every time she went.

Oh, God. Sloane had specifically mentioned the six-week time frame when he’d asked her to take care of Bree. And at the time, he’d assumed she’d say no because she had a book to write.

But a lifetime of things had happened since then. Bree had opened up to her,
trusted
her. And he had trusted her with the most important thing—the only thing—in his life.

Not to mention his heart.

In that moment, as Gavin finally dropped his eyes and saw Sloane’s betrayal right there in black and white, his gut seized with realization. He’d made a huge error in his assumption.

He’d never thought she would agree to stay, but then leave him and Bree anyway.

Sloane made a mad dash for Gavin’s porch, doing her best to dodge the steadily falling raindrops. She was cutting it a little close on the time for Gavin’s Sunday morning shift, but in all likelihood, if he and Bree had spent some time talking last night, then Bree would probably sleep late this morning anyway. God, she really hoped he’d been able to coax something out of Bree to ease her mind. The poor kid was probably aching for someone to talk to, and even though Sloane was more than happy to let Bree bend her ear for the girl stuff, at some point, she and Gavin were going to have to connect, especially about their mom. Sloane shook the cold rain from her blue beret, running her fingers over the soft threads with a smile as she closed her hand around the doorknob to let herself into the cottage.

The door was locked.

“What the heck?” Sloane tried the knob again, but before she could follow the failed attempt with a knock, it twisted in her palm, slipping from her grasp with a firm pull.

“Oh! Jeez, you startled me.” She laughed, but the sound met a quick end in her throat when she walked into the foyer and saw the serious look etched on Gavin’s face. “How did it go with Bree last night? Did you guys get a chance to talk?”

“Yes.” His expression betrayed nothing, as impeccably pressed as his pale blue dress shirt, but she froze midstep on the dark wood of the floorboards.

His expression might not let anything show, but his voice was a dead giveaway that something was horribly wrong.

Sloane’s heart fumbled against her ribs. “Oh, God, Gavin. Is she okay? I mean, I know she’s not
okay
okay, but—”

“No, she’s not.” A muscle ticked in his angular jaw, and her worry snowballed into fear.

“What’s going on? Where is she?”

“Jeannie picked her up about ten minutes ago. She was nice enough to help me out until Mrs. Teasdale comes back next week.” Gavin’s voice was utterly detached, as if he were reading a produce order over the phone.

Sloane pulled back, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Finally, she was forced to admit defeat. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple, really. Bree is staying with Jeannie this week while I’m at work. We just thought you might need the extra week to close up the bungalow and pack all of your things. Since you’re headed to Greece, and everything.”

His words slammed into her with tangible force, knocking her breath loose on a gasp. “What?”

He eyed her with steely disdain as he produced a piece of paper from his back pocket, unfolding it from its precise creases. “You should probably be more careful about where you leave your flight confirmation. After all, you’re going to need it when you skip town next Friday.”

Sloane’s mind dipped and spun, screeching to a halt with realization that turned her blood to ice water. “I left it on the printer,” she blurted, remembering too late how she’d clicked the icon to print the flight itinerary the night Bree had woken from her nightmare.

Oh, God. He thought she was leaving. Which meant he thought . . .

“Gavin, I can explain.” Sloane took a wobbly step toward him, but he cut her off with a tight wave of his hand.

“I don’t want you to.” The words arrowed into her, burrowing deep in her bones and stealing her voice as he continued. “You don’t owe me any explanations. In fact, you don’t owe me anything. We had a short-term business agreement. What you do now that it’s over is none of my concern.”

“That’s what you think we had? A business agreement?” Sloane forced herself to breathe, even though both her lungs and her throat had their own agenda. No, she and Gavin had never actually discussed what was going on between them, but it sure as hell hadn’t been just business.

It hadn’t been
just
anything.

“You’re the one who made it clear from the beginning that sticking around wasn’t your thing, Sloane,” Gavin said, folding his arms into an impenetrable knot over his chest. “And Mrs. Teasdale will be back next week, so you’re off the hook. Feel free to go.” He aimed a pointed, icy gaze at the door, and the move kick-started her mouth into motion.

“I wasn’t
going
to go. I mean, originally, I was, but—”

“The flight was booked three days ago.” A hint of something dark and thoroughly angry flashed over Gavin’s face as he lifted the paper. “So forgive me if I have trouble believing you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, partly to escape from his expression and partly so she could think. Pure survival instinct swirled at the back of her mind, whispering that she should run, but she quashed it.

She could fix this. She had to fix it.

“I know how this looks, but you have to believe me. I wasn’t going to leave. I’m sorry that you and Bree found out like this, but I didn’t think—”

Gavin stiffened at the sound of Bree’s name, cutting her off completely. “That’s the trouble, isn’t it? You don’t think. You live your life from one impulsive decision to the next, just stirring up trouble and never thinking about the consequences. Well, I hate to break it to you, but that’s not how the real world works. Not that you’d know, because you’re too busy racking up frequent flyer mileage to sit still long enough to get it.”

Sloane winced. Just because she’d earned his anger didn’t mean it stung any less upon impact. “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“You think this is about me?” Gavin’s frosty stare became downright glacial. “I don’t give a shit if you want to hurt me, Sloane. But if you think I’m going to sit around and listen to anything you have to say after you just destroyed my sister’s trust, you’re out of your mind. That kid cared about you, but you’re too stuck in your own selfish world to see it.”

Sloane’s eyes filled with tears, and they breached her lids to track down both cheeks as she said the only thing she could think of to make it right.

“I’m so sorry, Gavin. I never meant to hurt either of you.”

For just a breath, time melted into slow motion, a flicker of emotion making the tiniest dent in Gavin’s expression, and her chest surged with possibility and hope.

But then it disappeared, his words ripping at her as the banked emotion in his eyes turned to solid ice and he said, “Your apology isn’t good enough.”

He walked to the front door without pause and held it open, and Sloane had no choice but to walk through it and leave her heart behind.

 

 

Sloane’s suitcase had seen better days, but that had never stopped her from shoving all her worldly possessions into it. Granted, she usually had an idea of where she was headed when she zipped it up, but having a destination didn’t seem nearly as important right now as getting away from Pine Mountain. Once she was on the road, she’d be able to think, to lift the boulder-sized block of sadness off her chest and at least breathe.

Oh, God, she had to get
out
of here.

Windshield wipers flashed across the rain-slicked glass, the rhythmic
thump-THUMP
keeping time in Sloane’s head like a bad-weather metronome. She reached forward to turn the knob to the next setting, her breath leaking out of her in a slow sigh when she realized it wasn’t the rain blurring her vision, but a fresh round of tears spilling involuntarily from beneath her eyelids.

She guided the Fiat carefully down Rural Route Four. While her deeply ingrained survival instinct hollered at her to get out of Dodge as fast as possible, she wasn’t stupid enough to go speeding down the mountain like her hair was on fire. Those guardrails were high and tight for a reason, and it wasn’t to block the gorgeous views.

Sloane stuffed down the thought about two seconds after it surfaced. Her impulsive ways had gotten her into enough trouble, thank you very much. Recklessly turning around and begging Gavin and Bree for another chance blew right past the border of pointlessness, landing directly in the lap of total frickin’ insanity. He’d made it crystal-goblet clear that he wasn’t interested in anything she had to say, and in hindsight, Sloane couldn’t blame him.

After all, she’d proved the whole
not good enough
thing in spades.

As she turned off the gravel mountain road and her tires found the smooth ribbon of highway beneath them, Sloane began to cry in earnest.

Gavin sat at La Dolce Vita’s polished mahogany bar, wishing the stack of inventory sheets in front of him was a double shot of Grey Goose over ice. He’d had enough emotion in the past twenty-four hours to last him a lifetime. Considering where it had gotten him, he’d give his right arm to forget the pleasantries of his palate and go right for numb.

“Hey.” Adrian’s gruff voice yanked Gavin out of his wishful thinking, and his head snapped up in surprise. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Gavin’s pulse clattered through his veins. “We’re not open for dinner shift for another hour and a half.”

One corner of Adrian’s mouth kicked up into a half smile. “Yeah, I figured you’d make an exception for this one.” He took a step back, ushering Bree into the bar area from the dining room, with Jeannie right behind her.