Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
It was so perfectly Gage Buchanan.
And I was…a fraud. A nobody.
And even more than both of those things, there was an extremely legitimate reason why I could not and would not engage in this strange form of flirting or foreplay or whatever it was that we’d somehow began playing at. Running from him had started from a place of panic, but there was something undeniably electrifying about—literally—being pursued by Gage and I’d given in to the impulse. I could see anger simmering in his tense expression, but I also saw the way his pulse was pumping swiftly at his throat, and I’d noticed the glint of excitement in his eyes as he’d chased me. We’d played games with each other from the start, but again, all that needed to stop. And not only because otherwise the pedestrians of Calliope were in grave danger.
I turned my head, breaking eye contact. “Mr. Buchanan. Did I forget something?”
The window rolled down at my back and Faith called from the driver’s seat, “Rory, are you—”
“Give me just a minute, Faith,” I said, and whatever she heard in my voice made her roll up the window.
“Is your name really Aurora Castle?” he asked once the window closed.
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.