The Scarlett Legacy (Woodland Creek)(12)

“Ready?”

He nodded for her to lead the way. “After you.”

Evie avoided puddles as she started down the sidewalk to her car. She went through her dream in her head. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as her mind led her to be. Not all dreams could be interpreted the same way.

She sighed. Who was she kidding?

Her blood was on his hands in that dream. There wasn’t much room for misinterpretation.

“Where are you parked?”

“By the Pond and Duck restaurant. How long have you been in town?”

Keep your enemies close, she thought. She needed to make sense of it all.

“I arrived a couple of days ago.”

He checked his watch.

Evie lifted a brow at seeing such unexpected bling. The diamonds on his watch were enough to light their way through the woods in the dead of night. There really was more to him that she wanted to explore.

He put his hands in his pockets. “I came for my father’s trial and ended up arriving just in time for his funeral. I’m sure you heard that both of my brothers died a few weeks ago. Looks like I’m all alone now.”

Sadness filled her eyes. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost her family. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” He stopped walking. “You didn’t kill him. Did you?”

Evie didn’t expect such a question. She tried to free her face of any suspicion. Wes always said that she was a bad liar, so she shouldn’t even try.

“Of course not.”

At least it was the truth.

“Good,” he said, starting down the sidewalk again. “Then you don’t have to apologize.”

Evie cleared her throat. “I just wanted to offer my condolences.”

“You don’t have to do that either. We both know our fathers hated each other after Scarlett Research gave my mother that experimental drug that ended up killing her.”

Evie spoke softly, her face paling at the mention of his mother’s death. She was surprised that he was still keeping it together so well.

“They did hate each other, but what happened to Mrs. Prince was not my family’s fault. Besides all of that, does that mean we have to hate each other too? What did we have to do with any of it?”

Always a peacemaker.

“Not at all,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance. His face was serious as he looked at her. “You’re innocent. I can see that. Besides, I already like you, Evelyse Scarlett.”

She blushed and looked away from his intense green eyes. She pointed ahead. “Not much farther.”

“Good,” he said with a knowing grin. He rubbed the red stubble on his chin. “You really don’t remember me at all, do you?”

Evie shook her head. “Should I?”

“Aye,” he said. “But I suppose you were quite young when I left. We went to primary school together.”

Well, that’s interesting. She tried to search her memories for him.

“We did?”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“Wow. I wish could remember that. I wasn’t exactly outgoing as a child. I’ve always kept to myself.”

“Yes. So did I.”

She licked her lips. “So, what do you do?” She’d learned a lot already from him. Why not dig a little more?

“I own a chain of shops.”

“Really? What kind?”

“Nothing too major. I have a few clothing stops in the UK and along the west coast of the states. I’m looking to branch out a bit to the east. Maybe I’ll open up one in New Town. It would be nice to re-discover Woodland Creek again.”

“Good choice. We could use some more choices out here. What kind of clothes do you make?”

He walked backwards in front of her. “See this ensemble here? A mix of alternative and geek chic.”

Evie could stare at him all day. She smiled, nodding. “I like it.”

It was a perfect night, with a cool breeze, the smell of fresh rain, and a half moon.

She tried to be discreet as she looked Avalon up and down as he returned to walking beside her.

He was the son to her father’s killer, and he had appeared in her dreams… two warning signs that she should worry about him.

Evie clenched her jaw. She actually liked him despite their family’s history.

Please let him be good, she thought.

He was too attractive to die.





SOFT SINATRA SONGS played in the background as Olivia drank from her wine glass.

She glanced at Wes, trying to gauge what kind of mood he was in. He’d been quiet during most of dinner.

Adelaide joined them on their celebratory dinner, and Olivia welcomed the conversation.

“How is your pasta?”

“It’s fine. Not as good as the time Wesley’s father and I went to Rome,” Adelaide said. She smiled curtly at Olivia. “We can’t exactly expect them to be as good as the real thing, can we?”

Olivia faked a smile. Did the woman have to always complain? Nothing was good enough for her.

“You’re right,” Olivia said. She’d finished her pasta in fifteen minutes. Now she was left with her wine, an empty space in front of her, and a feeling that everyone in the restaurant knew what she’d done.