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I turned to him again and gave him a light push so that he took a step back. I couldn’t think straight with the delicious smell of him wafting all around me. I swallowed, moving my eyes to the side.
“Don’t lie,” he growled. “I’ll know if you do. You’re shit at it.”
I couldn’t deny that. And anyway, he could look me up. He knew enough about me to make some calls. I let out a gusty exhale. “Yes, my name is really Aurora. But um, my last name is Casteel.” I held up my hand, stopping him from saying anything. “And I’m really from Mud Gulch where I’ve lived all my life, and my family really owns Cakes and Ale.”
“So not an art appraiser who studied under the legend known as Professor Hugo Dickstoker?”
I let out a thin laugh. “Not exactly.”
He cocked his head to the side and put his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, studying me for a moment so that I felt like squirming. God, he was beautiful. Everything about him. His face. His build. Even his jawline and throat and the tiny hairs on his forearms that glinted in the sun. “And what’s the scam, exactly?” he asked. “Discover expensive paintings and then swap them out for reprints?” He glanced at the car behind me. “I’m surprised Faith would go along with that. Unless you’re conning her too.”
He definitely looked mad, but he also appeared disappointed. I pulled in another breath and again, let it out slowly. “Faith is a friend who’s only doing me a favor. I’m not running a scam, Gage.” My eyes drifted to the side. “I mean, not really. I can explain,” I said when I looked back at him. He deserved an explanation. And why not? Maybe he even had some information that would be helpful. He was another person who’d lived here all his life, only unlike Faith, he was a member of the Calliope aristocrats. He knew the families I was trying to gain access to.
“Then what the hell is going on?” he asked. “I admit that I’ve had some fun chasing you around town, despite the effect it’s had on my reputation and insurance premium, but enough is enough. I want answers.”
Movement behind Gage in one of the windows of the massive stone house caught my attention and I peered up, worried that Mrs. Ramsbottom was watching us from behind a curtain. “I’ll answer your questions. I’ll…well, I can meet you later if you want. And explain then. Just please, don’t say anything to anyone until you give me a chance to tell you why I’m here.”
He huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair as he considered me. “Okay, tonight though. Meet me at my place tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat. Tonight. It seemed unwise to be alone with Gage Buchanan anywhere there was a bed. Or a pool table. Perhaps I was flattering myself and I’d become utterly unappealing to him ever since he’d discovered I was a con artist—at least in his mind—but I didn’t think so. Our chemistry still zipped through the empty space between us, and I could see he felt it too.
He’d understand why that was so unfortunate soon enough.
“Okay. But not your place. Faith has a garden area behind her gallery. I’ll be there at eight tonight.”
He looked like he might argue for a moment but then apparently decided against it, giving one succinct nod and then backing away. “I’ll see you then. And Aurora, this had better be good.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gage
The night was warm but there was a cool breeze off Pelion Lake that stirred up the scent of the petunias spilling from the planters in front of Faith’s gallery. I set my shoulders, glancing upward as I rang the bell for the fifth time in less than a week. This time, however, Faith answered, pulling the door open and waving me in. “Gage,” she said. “The door to the garden is that way,” she used her thumb to point over her shoulder.
I gave her a sideways glance, murmuring a quick thank-you as I passed by. I’d give her the benefit of the doubt for now, especially considering I was going to learn whether that was warranted or not momentarily. I had to admit to the relief that loosened my muscles as I walked down the short hall to the back door. I was worried Rory would try some other evasion tactic rather than talk to me, and the fact that she hadn’t made me feel far less tense than I’d been ten minutes ago. I wanted answers. I needed answers if I was going to get a full night’s sleep again.
The door to the outside squeaked as it opened, and I stepped out onto a small patio. Beyond that was a large, open area with a fence around the entire perimeter, completely closing it in. There was a bar to my left with several barstools in front of it, and to the right there was more seating, shaded by a fabric-covered pergola. There were plant beds along the fence and large pots of flowers and greenery placed here and there, and the space was lit by hanging lights crisscrossed over the entire area. It was comfortable and charming, and I wondered if Faith used this space for art exhibits. I pictured servers offering trays of golden champagne and hors d’oeuvres named after famous artists for a touch of fun…cranberry-brie Rembrandt rolls…
I stepped around a pillar at the edge of the patio and pulled in a breath. Rory was standing near a table to the right, a glass sitting at the place she must have just been sitting before standing when she heard me arrive.
She watched me as I approached, something on her face I couldn’t read. A sort of sadness maybe, or regret.
“You made it,” she said.
I approached. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” I wanted to be here. I’d been chasing her around town for days. So why did I suddenly feel nervous and on edge?
“I…hoped you would. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I swear I had no idea you lived here in Calliope, Gage. When you walked in the room at your parents’ home, I thought I might pass out from shock.” There was a second seating area that was uncovered, and she waved her hand to it and then walked over and took a seat on one of the large, cushioned chairs. I followed, sitting down across from her. “I’ve been trying to figure out where to begin,” she said.
“Well, the beginning’s usually a good place.”
She smiled as she brought her feet beneath her, pausing as I waited for her to gather her thoughts. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve wondered about my father.” She released a gust of breath. “My mother died before I had a chance to get more information from her than the little she’d given me. But what I do know is that she spent time here nine months before I was born.”
I tipped my head. “Your father is from Calliope?”
Her eyes met mine. “Yes.”
Even if I couldn’t see the entire picture, a puzzle piece snapped into place. “So, you’re here trying to find out who your father might be.”
“Yes,” she answered again.
