Page 37 of A Forbidden Spring
“What’s wrong?” she asks as she stares at me from across my desk.
“My father wants me to call him.”
I’d kept the details about my trip to New York vague; I didn’t want to upset her with talk of Colorado because, in my mind, it’s a non-issue. I’ll remain in Wintervale, and someone else can take the Colorado account.
“Have you talked to him since your trip?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I know you have another client, so I’ll order dinner and pick it up so you can just meet me at the house. I should be done before you.”
“Sure.”
Standing up, I give her a quick kiss, watching her ass sway as she walks to the door and throws me a wink over her shoulder.
Busted.
Not even a little bit sorry.
Dropping back into my chair, I sigh as I stab the call button on my phone and press it to my ear.
“Dad?”
“Merrick. Nice place you got here.”
“In New York? Yeah, you’ve been there.” Dread settles into my stomach with some kind of foreboding.
“I’m at your place in Wintervale. Nice view. Figure I’ll stay a few days and help you close things down. Looks like your brother might be out sooner than we thought, and this’ll be a nice, easy transition for him.”
Blood roars in my ears as I shoot up from my desk, my chair flying back into the wall behind me.
“I’ll be home soon. Absolutely none of that is happening.”
“Merrick—”
I push the end button before he can say anything else and before I say something I regret.
* * *
WREN
I don’t seeMerrick leave, but I hear the coworker chatter when I walk my client out after our session.
He looked upset.
He left in a hurry.
I wonder what happened…
It has me wondering too.
But there are no messages on my phone, and my calls and texts are all unanswered by the time I leave Mountain Side. On a hunch, I swing by the restaurant and grab the takeout, merely saying I am picking it up for my boss when they flash me a suspicious glance.
Trying to convince myself this is a normal night is impossible when I can’t get ahold of Merrick—when I’d known he was anxious about talking to his father.
A part of me settles when I pull into the driveway and see his car, but the bigger part can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong. Grabbing my purse and the food, I hustle toward the porch, hearing the sound of loud and angry male voices as I push open the door.
“Colorado is a done deal. You have the accommodations and plane ticket already—you knew this was the plan.”
Plane ticket?
