Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale) Read online

  Perhaps sensing the outreach or perhaps just because she was friendly, Gina smiled warmly and accepted the offer for conversation by sitting in the seat across from Bryar. “Gets dull around this time. I get a handful of kids from the high school skipping class, then that’s it for another hour unless an impulse buyer shows up.”

  Boring predictable Midsummer. But Bryar smiled instead of getting negative and instead took a bite of the first cookie. Also predictably, though wonderfully so, the cookie was soft and chewy and still slightly warm.

  “What brings you to town?” Gina asked.

  Bryar’s gaze skirted to the resumes for a moment before moving away again. She washed down the cookie with hot chocolate and licked the whipped cream from her lips.

  “Job-hunting?”

  “Unsuccessfully. Turns out when you have no experience, references, or education, people are reluctant to hire you. Who would’ve guessed it?”

  Gina grinned. “You’re also technically from outside town—if you lived around the corner, that might be a different story.”

  Small town thinking once again. And no way could she even briefly get her own apartment until she found the elusive job to pay for it. “Well, I’ll keep trying.”

  “I could use someone around here, you know.”

  Bryar blinked at her, not certain she’d heard right. Or, if she did, maybe she was completely misunderstanding the implication. “You’re hiring?”

  “Part time now and then would really help me out. Dropping off deliveries so I don’t have to leave the shop—you can take my car, I’d never have you trekking through the sun or snow for hours like I used to. Receiving supplier shipments on certain days, running cash when holidays come up. It’s not a lot of work, but—”

  “But I’ve never done any of those things,” Bryar blurted out and then inwardly kicked herself. “I mean, I can learn. I probably should’ve specified that part first.”

  Of all things, Gina chuckled, but it was warm and eased some of Bryar’s concerns. “That’s okay. I can show you and you can learn as you go. Before you work cash, I’ll have you get a police check for insurance purposes...” The look of horror must’ve shown on Bryar’s face as that was enough to make Gina pause. “You have a record?”

  “Juvenile. Minor. I never stole money. Vehicles, yes. From...nuns. Which sounds a lot worse than it actually was, and I’ve lost the job already, haven’t I?”

  “You haven’t. Because at this point, at least I know you’re honest.”

  “Right, if I steal from you, I promise to tell you about it.”

  Gina smirked. “And funny. I could use that around here. I was looking at hiring a teen part time—there aren’t a lot of hours at this point, so that’s probably the most likely candidate—but sometimes I could use help during the day when they’d be in school.”

  “I can help out any time. Whatever your schedule needs.” That probably sounded too desperate, but then Bryar was at this point. And Gina didn’t seem to mind.

  “Finish your cookies while I get the calendar and we can discuss what time would work for you to do some initial training.” She slid off the chair, about to head toward the back of the room, but paused and frowned at the window. “Now that’s...weird.”

  Bryar followed her gaze, narrowing her eyes. A large silver SUV rolled down the street, moving just a touch faster than most of the cars, and with rental license plates. The windows were tinted dark and paint job gleamed like new. Not someone from Midsummer, and it was doubly weird as vacationers didn’t come by in October. And the only bed and breakfasts in the area were in the other direction.

  “Very strange,” Bryar agreed as they watched the vehicle continue on until it was out of sight.

  The one thing about small town gossip, at least, was that she’d hear sooner or later who the mysterious new addition to town was. People couldn’t help but talk about it.

  ****

  Sean Philip Sawyer was grateful for the tinted windows—his head was killing him and the bright afternoon light wasn’t helping matters. Too much to drink last night, despite his resolve that he’d stay sober, and now it was catching up with him.

  Everything was catching up with him, it seemed.

  He leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, and breathed in deeply through his nose. The voices around him continued to chatter; the driver, Jeffrey, had remained silent as usual, but Scott and Val were nattering on in the row of seats ahead of his. Talking about what, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. Tuned them out.

  Tuned everything out.

  Midsummer, the town was supposed to be called. Visiting Midsummer in October—he was wryly amused at the thought. It was out of the way, well down the coast away from any cities, some tourist stop that went dead around this time of year. They hadn’t planned to go anywhere in particular but then he’d found this spot. Somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized, wouldn’t be hounded, wouldn’t be followed. Wouldn’t be asked questions he didn’t know how to answer.

  Granted, such a place didn’t really exist, he knew. Sawyer had been at this long enough to realize that. But hopping on a plane would just arouse more questions, draw more attention to him. Staying in the country seemed like the best option.

  For now.

  “There’s a hotel—” Val started, and both her tone and rising volume drew Sawyer’s focus as it was clearly aimed at him.

  “No hotels,” he said.

  “It would be safer—”

  “No hotels.” Safer, no. What she meant was “room service.” Val liked that part. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed—she had few of the headaches and got all the benefits as his sister accompanying him places. She liked the part where they were waited on hand and foot, since she’d done most of that herself when they were kids and dirt poor. But they weren’t out here on vacation, no matter what she decided to call the trip.

  “Bed and breakfast,” Scott offered.

  But Sawyer shook his head to that too. “Rented house. Out of the way. You know the drill. I already picked the place.” And put down the money for a month. He figured they’d end up there a week, maybe two, but maybe they’d get lucky. Either way, it was set, and the driver knew the way.

  Scott and Val went silent ahead of him. Not just ignoring him, but entirely silent. So they didn’t like his plans. Did he care? No. They didn’t have to come along—he sure as hell didn’t ask them. Let him brood alone in silence out in the middle of nowhere, he’d be fine with that. But no, they had to tag along, probably to ease their own worries rather than his. So they’d follow his damn rules in the meantime.

  He felt the frown creeping on his face, tried to relax again but then the previous relaxation was just pretend anyway. Sawyer was tense, wound tight, stress and worry clawing at him no matter how he tried to ignore it. And exhaustion. Bone-deep weariness he couldn’t shake no matter the time that passed.

  The SUV jostled around on a rough road, suggesting they were out of town already and headed deeper into the country, and the movement just reminded him his head hurt. There wasn’t much change in the noise level, at least—Midsummer had been fairly silent as they rolled through the downtown. Population had to be a couple thousand and much of the citizens were spread out in farmland and big country homes. Soon the rush of water sounded in the distance, over the faint noise from the SUV’s heaters. He’d rented a beach house, something reported isolated on a good chunk of property. Normally it would have to be booked months in advance, but only if he’d come during the summer. In fall, it was empty, and the realtor had been more than happy to offer it when his people called.

  Eventually the SUV slowed and Sawyer cracked open his pale grey eyes. A long winding driveway unfurled like a ribbon up a slope, past wrought iron gates. The place had some security but not much. Less than he was used to, but then calling in more would’ve alerted someone, somewhere to his presence.

  To his right stretched a massive lake in the distance, bleached sandy hills and tall uncut grass. Simple. H
e was grateful for that, the untouched natural beauty of the property. The house itself was directly ahead, two levels visible up front and a third below that opened to the beach, according to the photos. Tall, wide windows took up much of the walls, allowing in natural night. White and airy, clean modern lines. The place was furnished, cleaned and ready for their stay. Just the sight of it filled him with relief, weight lifting from his shoulders. Scott had picked up the key when they neared town an hour ago—Sawyer had been clear about not wanting anyone there to meet them or show them around. The fewer people the better.

  Jeffrey swung the vehicle past the four car garage and pulled up near the front steps to the house and a path of wide, light gray interlock stones. Sawyer turned his gaze from the house to Valerie ahead of him. Her eyes, a gray tinged more blue than his own, were locked on his, and a dark brown eyebrow was cocked with enough questions she didn’t have to say a word.

  “Not right now,” he warned, less bite and more weariness to his tone than he’d displayed so far that day.

  Her brow didn’t move but she pursed her lips. After a lengthy, meaningful look, she swung around and jerked open the door. Her bobbed dark hair bounced with the movement and she climbed out to stretch.

  “Hey,” Scott said, twisted around. “Don’t make my wife bitchy after dragging her out here.”

  Sawyer bit back a comment about how he hadn’t, in fact, dragged her anywhere. Val was bullheaded and went wherever she damn well pleased. Instead he nodded, avoided his brother-in-law’s gaze, and shifted out of the vehicle.

  The sun struck him hard and he fumbled with his coat for his shades. Damn hangover. Whiskey had seemed like such a good idea at the time and he made a mental note to not do that again. Instead he breathed in the fall air, fresh and tinged with the scent of water and trees. It filled his lungs, calmed his stress enough that the tension unwound just a bit more from his shoulders.

  The driver took care of the bags without a word while Val looped her arm through Scott’s and pulled him across the lawn, pointing at the beach in the distance and murmuring something. Sawyer watched them for a moment, the closeness and realness palpable between them. They’d been married just six months, but they never seemed to have the supposed “honeymoon period” of doe-eyed loviness. They were always simply Val and Scott, friends first, couple second, with a genuine regard for one another Sawyer rarely saw in other people. Of course, given the company he generally kept, that was hardly surprising. He felt a sharp sudden squeeze of his heart, some yearning for something he’d never had, never would have, when he looked at them.

  He scowled and glanced away, heading up the steps toward the rental house. Jeffrey already had the door unlocked and was heading back down to get the rest of the bags. Sawyer slipped inside past him and paused in the foyer to peer around. It was as the place was described, a vaulted ceiling just inside with a second floor balcony around it, stairs to his left leading up to the hall of bedrooms. A kitchen lay directly ahead of him, bright with the massive windows despite no lights being on. Around the corner would be the living room. Downstairs, a multimedia den and laundry facilities. Four bathrooms, six bedrooms. A small boathouse and dock by the water, complete with boats. Perfect getaway.

  As if he could really get away from anything.

  The silence was broken moments later when Val and Scott came in laughing, the latter giving Jeffrey instructions while the former scooped up one of her suitcases.

  “Any room I want?” Val challenged, pausing at the stairs to glance over her shoulder at Sawyer.

  He nodded. She’d pick a small modest one, he knew, but liked to pretend otherwise.

  Scott closed the front door while Val headed upstairs and slapped Sawyer on the shoulder. “It’s a nice place.”

  “It is.”

  “You’re brooding still.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re here to not brood.”

  “No, I’m here to brood away from the paparazzi cameras.”

  “Point. You could do us all a favor and brood a little less, though.”

  “There’s a hot tub on the deck. You won’t see me from there.”

  Scott shook his head and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his nylon jacket. “Here’s the code for the door alarm and the front gate. I don’t figure we’ll need it, but just in case.”

  Sawyer took the paper, glanced over the string of numbers, and pocketed it. He stepped away from Scott, the other man’s hand slipping off his shoulder, and grasped his overnight bag and suitcase to head upstairs.

  “Sean.”

  He was halfway up the stairs when Scott called him, and he glanced over his shoulder at him in silence.

  His brother-in-law’s expression was serious, dark brows pulled tight over his deep-set eyes and lips set in a grim line. “It’ll be okay.”

  Sawyer bit back a comment and continued on up the stairs. What was there to say, after all?

  His life was a mess. Everyone else’s life he came in contact with became a mess in turn. Somehow he’d gone from a bright-eyed kid with big dreams to a jaded, washed up loser who destroyed everything he touched. At least I’ve got the brooding down. Too bad it doesn’t make for much of a career.

  All the bedroom doors were open but the one nearest the stairs, which he figured meant Valerie had claimed it already. He continued on down the hall to the farthest end where a pair of massive doors opened to the master bedroom. It had a vaulted ceiling like the foyer, one wall nearly entirely glass with big doors that led to a veranda. King-sized bed already neatly made in cream and taupe sheets with stacks of pillows. Hardwood floor polished to a shine. Two doors to the left lay open, revealing an empty walk-in closet and an ensuite bathroom decorated in pale blue and white tile. The bedroom was utterly silent, just the call of gulls in the distance over the water. Exactly what he wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  Sawyer let the bags thump at his feet, wandered past the bed, and unlocked then cracked open the door. Vines crept around the balcony railing, though swiftly losing their leaves so only spindly branches remained. Two reclining wooden chairs, a table. It would be quite picturesque in the summer, he imagined, but in fall it was silent and cold.

  He lowered himself to the chair, made a mental note to hunt down some cushions as the slats bit into his flesh through his jeans, and found himself pulling out his phone. Another thing he’d promised he wouldn’t do—check it—but there the habit was ingrained deep like all the rest, his thumb moving absently over the screen to check for messages like always. He skipped the voicemail, glanced at texts. Found the usual. Stupidly checked Twitter, where his mentions were a mess of retweeted news stories that had tagged him, stupid comments calling him names, and fluffy fan questions. His gaze snagged on the headline he saw over and over, not the latest but the one that seemed to be tweeted the most.

  Questions for SkyHigh Members After—

  He turned his phone off again and looked away. It was an ugly article despite the innocuous headline, one he could practically recite by heart at this point, despite the fact that he only pulled it up to read after having a few drinks when his head was fuzzy. And read it he would, over and over again, until it made him want another drink, and then the cycle would continue until he woke up feeling like he had that morning.

  He set the phone on the wide wooden arm of the chair and took in a few deep breaths. That pressure was there again, pushing at his shoulders, reminding him that he could run away all he wanted and nothing ever went away. Because the problem wasn’t with what was around him, the problem was with him. Everywhere he went.

  Sawyer rubbed at his face like that could change him, make him someone new, and stared out at the water. Maybe a few days, a few weeks away would clear his head.

  Maybe he’d somehow just make this worse.

  Chapter Two

  Bryar had avoided telling her aunts about what she’d been doing all afternoon.

  She had a schedule from Gina, what days she was
coming in for basic training and what days she’d start working. She could hardly believe it happened so quickly—part of her hadn’t really expected to land a job that afternoon. Her best case scenario was maybe getting asked for an interview. But Gina was cool and understanding, and even part time hours were a blessing. Plus some job experience there might mean someone else would hire her later. She could juggle a couple of jobs. Not like she had much else to do.

  The Rosings’ cottage was bustling, at least out in the main part where her three aunts were busy with dinner. Bryar was in her room going through her closet, figuring out what would be best to wear for the new job. Gina was fairly casual, after all—Bryar could get away with simple pants and a button down shirt. First paycheck, she’d pick up something nicer. Maybe from Lady in Red. Gina mentioned eventually having uniforms or at least something color coordinated, but didn’t have firm plans yet. For now, there were aprons with the store logo over them that would identify her as staff while she was in the shop.

  “Dinner!” Aunt Lora called from the other room. “Hurry up, girl!”

  Called like a kid. Every night. Irritation rose, though Bryar stuffed it back down again. There was no sense getting annoyed with them. They cared, she knew. They did a lot for her. Raised her from infancy after her parents died, did their best to care for her.

  They’d also suffocated her since childhood with their fussing and fretting and grounding and “You’re never leaving the house again after that stunt you just pulled”, which she heard practically weekly as a teen. They were ridiculously strict, allowing a television and movies but no actual cable channels or anything, a computer without internet. Bryar got an old cell phone of her friend’s in high school, snagged some pre-paid cards, and was grounded for three months when they found it. Living in a world where everyone was online and connected except you had been a nightmare and was likely the cause for all the acting out she did, even if the aunts didn’t want to admit it. It was like growing up in one of those super religious families Bryar ran into at school except they had no Jesus as an excuse. No reason for their protectiveness.