"The first is true, but the second's only true if you want it to be," he said plainly. His muscled frame blocked her path. He leaned against the trunk of her car and tilted his head in that annoying I-can-pluck-the-thoughts-from-your-mind way of his. "And, as I see it, you seem in need of a friend tonight, and I seem to be the only one offering."
"Friend?" He couldn't be serious. "We can't ever be friends."
"Says who?"
She saved her breath; the answer didn't need to be voiced.
"Do you listen to everything your family says?"
"Yes." Her insides recoiled at the pitiful statement and she folded her arms, the clasp on her clutch purse digging into her rib cage as she prepared for another round of his deception detection.
He scanned her face and lowered his voice. "Did someone hurt you tonight?"
The question unsteadied her. "Why would you think-"
"Deflection doesn't work well on me."
Apparently, he wasn't going to let this go. "I hurt myself."
He sighed. "Try again."
"It's the truth! Unless there's something you'd like to admit?"
He reared back a step. "Me?"
"Yes, you." Surprised at her bold assertiveness, she mirrored his narrowed gaze. "Did you or did you not set me up the night of the party?"
A muscle at the base of his jaw jumped. "Set you up how?"
"My uncle traced your alias check. He knows it's connected to the farm."
"That's impossible-" His concentrated stare morphed into confusion. "We haven't linked it yet."
"He linked it."
Levi leaned in close, his face a whisper away. "I didn't set you up, Rayne. I played fair. Did exactly what you asked of me."
Her bottom lip quivered. "Well, then, it's like I said. I hurt myself."
"What did he do?"
Rayne knew exactly who Levi was referring to. The overreaching power of her uncle was known by all.
She worked to regulate her tone, mute her hurt for the time being, but the gravelly sound that escaped betrayed her. "I'm not your problem."
"No. You're not. I'm glad we can finally agree on that."
She shouldn't say anything more to him. She shouldn't even be standing here at all. This entire scenario was backward. Messed up. Wrong on every level imaginable. And yet, she couldn't seem to stop the words. "He gave my promotion to someone else." Her fingers skimmed the length of her braid. "I came here after . . ." She tugged at the rope's end until her scalp stung. "After my replacement showed up."
"Your replacement?" he asked. "Wait . . ." His discerning gaze intensified, and she glanced away a moment too late. "Did he give it to another Shelby?"
Tears built behind her eyes, the truth too raw to speak. Too exposing.
"Figures." But the way he said it-the tone, the undercut of resentment and disgust-unnerved her.
"You shouldn't look so surprised. That's what your kind does. They eat their young. Everything is image and polish and pretense-if something doesn't go their way, well . . ." He waved a hand at her face. "This happens."
As hard as she'd worked to keep her tears tucked inside during Cal's reprimand yesterday, and during Celeste's verbal beating today, the last of her Strong Independent Woman front had faded. She pinched her lips together and turned her head. Hurt spilled down her cheeks while a sensation like burning coals radiated in the pit of her stomach.
"Hey." With a feather-soft touch, Levi's fingertips grazed her elbow. "I'm sorry. I took that too far. I was honestly trying to make you feel better, not worse."
He dropped his hand, discomfort spanning their sudden silence.
Rayne had every reason in the world to leave this man behind, every reason to climb into her car and never look back, yet none of those reasons could compel her to go. And despite the progression of subtle expressions playing across his face, Levi didn't retreat either. He simply stood there, waiting, as if he, too, were trying to understand why his legs weren't moving away.
"I have this ritual," he said with a tug on the back of his neck. "When I have a crap day."
"Yeah?" She blotted her cheek with the back of her hand and warily met his gaze. "What's that?"
"I shoot stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "Was that interest I just heard in your voice?"
"Possibly." It'd been far too long since she'd felt the weight of cold, hard metal pressed into her palm, or the rush that followed the pull of a trigger. Her fingers twitched in memory.
He smiled fully. "A girl in heels who likes to shoot. You're just one walking contradiction, aren't you?"
"You shouldn't sound so shocked. I did grow up on acreage in north Idaho."
He cocked his head and studied her. "Maybe you're due for a round or two tonight."
"You want to take me shooting?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"If you're willing to agree to a truce."
She blinked, letting his words settle into comprehension.
"For one night," he continued, "no talk of families or feuds or property lines. Just . . . a night to cure your bad day, and to redeem me for making a beautiful woman cry outside a bar."
She bit her bottom lip. "I was a mess before you followed me, remember? And I've been less than kind to you after what you did to help me-"
"Doesn't matter. I don't want to be responsible for a single one of your tears." He held her gaze. "What do you say, Rayne Shelby? Can we be friends for a night?"
She ignored her balking conscience-the wailing siren screaming inside her head. Hadn't she learned her lesson? Hadn't she already lost too much because of her association with Levi Harding?
And yet, not even the answer to that question could make her yearning for a reprieve disappear.
"For one night?"
"One night. We can go back to ignoring each other tomorrow if we must, but rest assured that I'm not stupid enough to go shooting with a mortal enemy."
He retreated several steps, and strangely, her cheeks burned hotter with every inch of space he relinquished, as if his nearness had lit a brush fire under her skin.
"You know you want to say yes." His half smile, half smirk unbalanced her in more ways than one.
She did. She did want to say yes. More than she wanted to say no. More than she wanted just about anything at the moment. But could she really do this? Let go for a single night-of her conscience, her position, her last name?
Levi opened the passenger door to his truck and waited for her to make a decision.
She looked from him to the cracked vinyl seat.
"Okay," she said. "One night."
CHAPTER TEN.
With a relaxed grip on the steering wheel, Levi glanced at her again, sure that in just a matter of seconds she would come to her senses and order him to turn around and take her back to her car. But instead, she sat quietly, staring out the passenger-side window as their town faded from view.
After their truce was all said and done, he'd walk away with a clean conscience. His fascination with Rayne was nothing of substance-nothing more than a fantasy developed over nine years of untamed curiosity.
Tonight would cure him of her for good.
The full moon illuminated the old country road that cut through dense pine trees and pastures of grassland. Ramsey Highway was the only road that led to and from Shelby Lodge and Winslow Farm. He'd driven it thousands of times, passed the cedar-planked estate and pristine landscape without a second glance. Without care or consequence. But tonight, it was impossible to ignore. His awareness of the wealthy estate had become as real as the girl tensing beside him.
"It's not too late to change your mind, you know."
"You're positive Ford is asleep?"
"The man wakes before the roosters. I'm positive. He's usually in his second cycle of REM before nine."
His statement caused her head to turn, yet her attention remained far away.
"Then I'm not changing my mind."
"Okay, then." He took note of her bare legs and her delicate choice in footwear. "But you realize I can't take you out to the actual shooting range, right? It's too dark, not to mention the issue of your . . . uh, attire."
"My attire shouldn't be a deterrent."
Oh, it certainly wasn't a deterrent, but it was an issue. "You'd think differently after a hot shell casing burns the top of your foot."
"You seem very concerned with my feet."
"I'm more concerned with getting sued by a Shelby."
"You're breaking our truce," she said, her eyes fully engaged on his face. "No more mention of family ties."
He slowed the truck and signaled onto the gravel drive that stretched from the road to the farm. "Fine by me."
She sat up a little straighter and scanned the property. "If we're not shooting on a range, then what are we-"
"I've got a plan B." He always had a plan B. A life lesson he'd learned early on. He rolled past the houses on the property and then the warehouse, heading straight back.
"You're taking me to the barn?"
"Trust me."
"I'm trying to."
He laughed at her honesty, parked the truck, and then looped around to open her door. Her entire body seemed to relax as she stepped into the twilight.
Levi jogged toward the large red doors, yanked one side open, and called back to her through the dusky haze. "It will take about ten minutes for the overhead lights to warm up. Just stay here, I'll be quick."
But stay she didn't.
When he doubled back, she wasn't in the barn. Or his truck. Or-wait.
The faintest flash of her white skirt pulled his gaze to the far left. Heels in hand, she walked along the railroad ties that bordered the Christmas tree farm and the orchard. Her dark hair flirted with the moonlight. He fought the urge to call out to her as she teetered momentarily, but as quickly as she lost her balance, she righted herself again. A heartbeat later she stopped and tipped her head toward the darkening horizon.
His breath faltered.
Whether it was the star-speckled backdrop, or the rare innocence she exuded, Rayne Shelby was far and away the most enchanting woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
She didn't startle when he came to stand next to her; she simply sighed. "It's strange what your heart remembers when your mind's been told to forget."
What had she been told? Certainly not the truth. He'd bet the farm on that. "When was the last time you were out here?"
"My seventh birthday." She looked to him, almost eye to eye with the added elevation of the railroad tie. "With my grandfather. He bought me an apple tree."
"An interesting gift for a seven-year-old."
"He was . . . an interesting man." She nearly laughed. "He told me to choose anything I wanted for my birthday, and all I could think was how much I loved homemade apple pie. So I asked for my own tree. And sure enough, he bought me a starter tree and helped me plant it somewhere in this orchard." She took in a deep breath and then released it. "I can still remember the feel of his hands on mine as he helped me pack the dirt. He was so patient. So careful to make sure I understood every minute detail." She shook her head slightly, then swept her gaze across the darkened orchard. "It looks so different out here now, but . . . it feels the same. It's hard to explain."
"I get it." And he did. More than he could explain.
He took her hand, helped her down, but didn't release her. Not even after she'd slipped her shoes back on. Heels weren't suitable for the farm, no matter how graceful the wearer.
"Now, are you ready for my plan B?"