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Instead, my head goes fuzzy, and I think I’ll black out until a voice comes over the household intercom from the security tower at the entrance to our home. The one that the guards only use in an emergency.
“Mr North? There’s a lady here who’s adamant she sees you now—”
There’s a slight kerfuffle, and a female voice comes over the line. It’s tinged with an American twang but unmistakable all the same.
“Cade? Can we talk?”
CHAPTER4
SUMMER
There’ssilence on the other end of the intercom. My eyes flit from the first guard to the second and back again.
“Caden?”
His name comes out in a whisper, so I clear my throat and try again. “Caden, are you there?”
“Bring her to the house, Ford.”
His hypnotic voice sounds from the intercom, and then there’s static.
“Miss, if you’ll come with me…”
A man behind me with cropped black hair, covered in tattoos, with a smile that surely would make even a nun's panties melt clean off, gestures towards a door to the side of the room.
“Umm, sorry. I need to pay my cabbie first.”
The man—Ford, I’m guessing—glances at his colleague. “Holden, would you mind…?”
Holden drops the intercom mic, nods sharply, and marches in the direction of my cab.
“Now, miss. This way. Holden will take care of your cab fare.”
Ford straightens himself to his full, considerable height—I reckon maybe six-three or four to my own, not insubstantial five-six—and, once again, gestures to the rear door.
Upon exiting, he strides past me and opens the rear passenger door of a sleek black Volvo before rounding the back to slip into the driver's seat.
I follow mutely, realising shortly after that I’ve left my bag in the trunk of the cab. I voice my concerns, and Ford waves me off. “Holden will take care of it, miss.”
It’s only then that his accent registers with me. Definitely Texan. There’s been enough visiting Rogue over the years that I’d recognise the distinct accent clear as day.
He moves away at speed, heading in the direction of the main house. In the direction of Caden.
I take a minute to analyse my fingernails, realisation dawning with every inch closer I get.
After all this time.
My stomach churns nauseatingly, fretting stupidly that he’ll find I don’t live up to the memory he has of my teen self. I’ve aged gracefully, yet still. There’s padding where there once was none. There are wrinkles where once he kissed my smooth, unblemished skin.
There are scars, both mental and physical, that he knows nothing about.
I’m beginning to spiral when I raise my eyes to find Ford’s fixed on me.
“You haven’t changed one iota, miss.”
My forehead crinkles. “I—I…have we met?”
He smiles, flashing perfect white teeth. “No, ma’am.”
