Sable Peak (The Edens)

Lyla nudged my elbow with hers as we stood behind the counter at Eden Coffee. “So … flying lessons?”

I laughed. “How long have you been wanting to talk about this?”

“Since Mateo came in here on Saturday.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “I’m proud of you for waiting four whole days.”

“It took every ounce of my willpower.”

Part of me wanted to keep it all inside. Whatever was happening with Mateo was … unbelievable. Incredible. If I talked about it, would I jinx it? But at some point, everyone in his family was going to know that I’d spent the last four nights in his bed—if they didn’t already.

I had enough secrets to keep. Mateo didn’t need to be another one.

“I sort of stood him up on Saturday,” I said. “He wasn’t very happy about it.”

“So that’s why he was in such a bad mood. Well, he was overdue for an ego check,” she teased. “He hasn’t been stood up enough in his life.”

“It wasn’t my finest moment. I felt bad and apologized. We talked it out and I guess … we’re together? I don’t know. I’ve had a crush on him for so long that it still feels surreal. And it’s moving so fast I haven’t had time to really figure it out.”

Mateo’s plan to take it slow had been entirely discarded. If I wasn’t working, I was at the cabin. Last night when I’d suggested I sleep in my own bed at the loft for a change, Mateo had hidden my keys so I couldn’t leave.

I’d found them in the freezer this morning.

“Tell him to slow down,” Lyla said.

“I don’t want to.”

She giggled. “Okay, then buckle up and enjoy the ride.”

God, what a ride it had been. Was it possible to become a sex addict in just four nights? Because I was hooked on Mateo. I realized now why he’d been worried that sex would become the focus. It was quickly becoming an obsession.

He worshiped my body and made me feel cherished. Craved. He never made me feel naive. He loved discovering and claiming any firsts. My pleasure was his priority, his reward, and he did not disappoint.

But while I loved having him inside my body, our nights together were more than just trading orgasms. There was intimacy in every touch. In every moment of sleep.

Whenever I rolled to the other side of the bed, he’d drag me back to his. I slept pressed against his side, wrapped in his strong arms, with his heat surrounding me and his nose buried in my hair.

He touched me constantly. A brush of his knuckles against mine when we crossed paths in the living room. A tuck and untuck of my hair behind an ear when we were at the dinner table. Little caresses that were playful and sweet but promised there’d be more as soon as Allie was tucked in her bed.

“You’re happy?” Lyla asked. I loved her for the concern etched on her beautiful face.

“I’m happy.”

She didn’t need to worry about my heart. Down deep, I knew Mateo wouldn’t break it.

He wouldn’t have chased me otherwise. If he wasn’t in this to stay, he wouldn’t have started an us in the first place. Not just for my sake. But Allie’s. He wouldn’t let a woman into her life who might disappear.

“When you get a chance, maybe give Vance a call,” Lyla said. “He’s been worried since Willie’s.”

“He’s always worried.”

She gave me a sad smile. “Can you blame him?”

“No.” After everything, if I were Vance, I’d be worried too. “I’ll call him later. See if he wants to meet for lunch.”

“He’d like that.” She pulled me in for a quick sideways hug, then sighed as she surveyed the display case and its empty spaces. “Looks like I need to get busy. What should I make? Muffins? Scones?”

“Carrot cake muffins?”

“With cream cheese frosting. Absolutely.” But before she could head for the kitchen to bake, the door opened, the shop’s bell a cheerful chime.

A man wearing a pair of pressed slacks, a crisp white shirt and a black blazer strode across the room. His blond hair was parted in a severe line above his left eyebrow. His gait was unhurried, but something about him made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

A gust of cold air and sharp energy accompanied him as he approached the counter.

I stiffened as he smiled. That was a wolf’s smile.

Lyla must have noticed it too. She didn’t move as he stopped in front of us. “What can we get for you?”

“Coffee. Cream and sugar.”

“Of course.” She gave him a fake smile, then nodded for me to get his coffee. Like she didn’t want me anywhere near this counter. “Anything else?”

His gaze shifted to me. He stared for too long, unblinking as he took in my hair and face. “Vera Gallagher?”

My stomach dropped.

He was a cop, wasn’t he? Given the suit, probably a federal agent.

I hadn’t looked closely enough at his torso when he’d walked inside, but I’d bet my paycheck there was a holster and sidearm beneath that blazer.

What was he doing here? What did he want? My heart was beating too fast. My palms felt clammy, but I held my chin high and gave him a saccharine smile. “Yes? I’m Vera Gallagher. Can I help you?”

He held out a hand, not to shake mine, but to hand over the crisp, white business card I hadn’t noticed him pull from his pocket. “Agent Ian Swenson.”

An FBI agent. Fuck. My nerves spiked, but I kept my smile fixed, my shoulders relaxed, and tucked his card in the pocket of my apron. “What can I do for you, Agent Swenson?”

“I’d love a moment to talk.”

“About?”

“Your father.”

My stomach plummeted to my tennis shoes. “Oh. Um, well, obviously I’m working.”

“I’ll wait.” That wolf’s smile widened.

I hated him already.

“Let me get your coffee,” I said, holding up a finger. Then I moved to the coffee cups, plucking a clean ceramic mug from the tray and filling it with black coffee. His eyes bored into me the entire time.

When I set his mug on the counter in front of him, I pointed to the station against the wall where he could find cream and sugar. “Two dollars.”

His eyes narrowing, he took a money clip from his pocket and slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change. I’ll just find a table to wait.”

As in, don’t keep me waiting. Asshole.

I glared at his back as he carried his mug away.

Lyla leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “Have you met him before?”

“No.” That was not the agent assigned to my dad’s case. That guy had been older and shorter. I’d met him in Idaho two years ago. Even after Vance and I had moved away from Coeur d’Alene to Quincy, I’d wondered if he’d follow me here. If he’d check in on me from time to time.

But I hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from the FBI in two years.

Either this Agent Swenson was here to ask questions about the past. Or he was here to break some horrific news.

Maybe they’d found Dad. Maybe he’d mentally cracked, hurt someone again and finally been caught. Maybe he hadn’t been in the woods on Saturday and my imagination was just playing tricks on me. Maybe Dad was alive but locked in a jail cell.

“I’m calling Vance.” Lyla fished her phone from her apron, but before she could make the call, I put my hand on her wrist.

I shook my head, gaze locked on Agent Swenson’s shoulders as he walked to a table. “Let me find out what he wants first.”

If Vance rushed down to the cafe, he’d take over this discussion. Maybe Swenson would see it as Vance simply trying to protect me. Or maybe he’d think we both had something to hide.

Lyla’s eyebrows came together but she nodded. “Talk loud. I’ll eavesdrop.”

Swenson took the table closest to the counter, probably because he wanted to eavesdrop too.

I rounded the counter and took a chair opposite his.

He relaxed into his seat and kicked a leg up over his knee, like he was here to talk about sports or the weather. He swirled a straw in his coffee, trying to appear unhurried and carefree. But his muddy hazel eyes betrayed him. They were locked on mine with an intensity that almost made me squirm.

Almost, but not quite.

“You want to talk about my father.” I leaned my forearms on the table. “What about him?”

“Have you heard from him?”

“You mean like a phone call or weekend visit? No. I haven’t seen my father in over two years.”

“He hasn’t made contact with you?”

“Why would he?”

“You’re his only surviving daughter.” He could have just said daughter. But he had to add those other words. Only surviving. It was a knife, opening the wound of my sisters’ deaths.

This bastard could rot.

“Is there a point to this visit, Agent Swenson?”

“I’m new on this case. The previous agent retired.”

Shit. I’d liked the previous agent. He’d been conveniently scarce. Why did I have the feeling that Swenson was about to make my life miserable?

“According to his notes, it had been a while since he checked in with you. Last you spoke was in Idaho, correct?”

“Yes.” Back when Vance was managing the authorities and the press. Maybe I should have let Lyla call him down.

“He didn’t realize you’d moved to Montana,” Swenson said.

“Was I supposed to run that by him first?”

“No.”

Silence stretched between us as he sipped his coffee, eyes never leaving mine.

Intimidation was his go-to tactic, wasn’t it? He was an arrogant cop who thought he could frighten a woman. Asshole.

I wasn’t obligated to talk. To anyone. So I sat perfectly still, hands clasped in my lap, and let Swenson stare.

Was there more to this visit? Or was it really just an introduction? An assessment? Why, after all this time, was the FBI in Montana? Why now?

If they’d arrested Dad, I would have heard about it, right? Or Swenson would have mentioned it already. Vance or Winn would have probably heard too.

The longer we sat and stared, the longer this visit felt tactical. Swenson wasn’t here to deliver news. He was here for information. His gaze was too assessing. Too suspicious. Too curious.

Exactly what I didn’t need in my life.

The door’s jingle sounded, drawing my attention, and a sweet voice echoed through the room.

“Ve-wa!” Allie raced across the cafe, her feet unable to keep up with her body. She crashed on her hands and knees, but shoved herself back up and kept on running.

“Hey, Jellybean.” I stood from my chair in time to scoop her up and kiss her cheek, then turned as Mateo walked over.

He had his attention locked on Agent Swenson. When he finally met my gaze, a thousand questions lingered behind those blue eyes.

“Hey, Peach.” Mateo pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I waved off Swenson, dismissing him like the pest he was. “What are you guys doing?”

“Thought we’d come visit.”

The scrape of chair legs from the table had us both turning as Swenson stood, his coffee mug now empty. He wore an arrogant smirk as he rounded the table. “You’ve got my card, Vera.”

“I sure do.” I patted my apron’s pocket.

Swenson whistled as he walked to the door, stepping outside and onto the sidewalk. Then he disappeared from view, looking like a man out for an afternoon stroll, not a snake in the grass.

I turned, finding Lyla’s eyes waiting. When I gave her a single nod, she left the counter for the kitchen. To call Vance.

“Who was that?” Mateo asked.

Allie played with the ends of my ponytail, oblivious to the edge in his voice and the nervous breath I finally let loose.

“An FBI agent.”

Mateo’s jaw flexed. “What did he want?”

“To know if I’ve had any contact with my father.”

“You left your father almost two years ago. And the FBI is just now getting around to a visit?” He sounded mad, like the system had failed me.

“He’s new on the case,” I told Mateo. And hopefully, like his predecessor, Swenson would give up as soon as he realized that, short of a miracle, he’d never find Cormac Gallagher. “I’m sure this visit was just protocol.”

“Or maybe the FBI has finally decided it’s time for justice. It’s not right, Vera. That your dad is out there living without consequences after what he’s done.”

What Mateo thought Dad had done.

Yes, Dad was guilty of hurting Lyla. I’d always be angry at him for that. But for everything else?

If the FBI found Dad, there wouldn’t be justice.

Dad had seen to that already.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

God, what a mess. Was it too much to ask that I’d just be forgotten? That he’d be forgotten? Apparently so.

“Maybe you should call him,” Mateo said. “The agent. Tell him everything you know. If he’s new, he might have better luck at finding your father. Put him away for good.”

The anger in his voice made my insides churn.

Mateo didn’t know the whole truth. It didn’t surprise me he was furious about what Dad had done to Lyla. I was upset about it too.

Dad wasn’t innocent. But he wasn’t guilty either.

Lyla cleared her throat, coming to stand at my side. She smiled at her brother, let him kiss her cheek, then turned to me. And between us passed a silent exchange.

If I was in this with Mateo, if I was going to keep him in my life, my secrets couldn’t stay hidden forever.

Whether I wanted to or not, one day soon, I’d have to tell him the truth.

I’d have to open that box.