Stay (Dunham series #2) (22 page)

She knew what she’d done all these years, quietly
conflating Eric into some mythic figure,
pining
for someone
who had probably never existed. Now, sitting across from him, she
wondered if she’d been that far off the mark or . . .

Don’t
ever
mistake sex for love because
that’s when girls start getting stupid.

. . . if she was falling into the trap Giselle had
warned her about.

Eric asked Vachel pointed questions about his life
with Vanessa, at Whittaker House, and treated him with the respect
of an equal—like the man Vachel strove to be. Vachel didn’t have
enough life experience or education to truly be Eric’s equal, but
Eric didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him in any way.

Nash wasn’t unkind to Vachel, but Vachel gave him no
chance to be kind. Black hair and beard notwithstanding, the boy
had recognized Nash immediately, and went out of his way to avoid
the man. Vanessa understood that, too. After hearing that music,
seeing that face and almost-bare body on his grandmother’s wall for
half his life, Vachel didn’t want to hear the voice or see the man
in person any more than he absolutely had to.

It was a key factor in Vanessa and Nash’s ability to
keep their affair a secret from Vachel as well as everyone
else.

He would not have adjusted easily to the knowledge
that the aunt he loved like a mother was sleeping with a man he did
not like.

Or anybody else, for that fact—and most
especially
Eric, a man Vachel’s mother had obsessed over his
entire life. Vanessa couldn’t begin to sort out how much damage it
might do to his fragile psyche if his
aunt
went noticeably
nuts over Eric Cipriani, too.

Even though she already had.

Vanessa thought about last night—was it just last
night?—with Nash. She found comfort in her easy friendship with
Nash, the sex an extension of that friendship, just another
gesture, like a hug or a kiss on the cheek. She’d enjoyed what
she’d had with Sebastian, what she had with Nash, and she had no
need for anything more from either of them.

Eric, on the other hand—

Well, Eric she wanted with an intensity, an urgency,
she didn’t understand and had never experienced, but she knew she
wanted something entirely different from him:

A relationship.

Especially now, knowing this mythic figure had the
same insecurities she did, that he wanted the same thing she did,
as she watched him happily chat with a boy who had been the bane of
his existence for twelve years.

Didn’t matter anyway. Life had gotten in the way and
she just couldn’t see how something like that would work—four hours
apart, a history that was less than stellar, two successful careers
which would afford them no real opportunity to build on this
fragile truce.

She was too old for this.

She sighed and faced reality: It wasn’t
possible.

And so she wanted nothing. No taste of what could be
when it couldn’t, no one-night stand with a man who meant much more
to her than that. Nash and monogamous friendsex would suffice for
however long it took him to gather his courage and go home to
Melanie and Trixie, which probably wouldn’t be long now that he’d
given voice to it.

At the first lull in the males’ conversation, when
Vachel turned his attention to his food, Vanessa hesitantly asked,
“So . . . what happened to you and your mother after you graduated
from high school? You both just disappeared.”

“My mother moved to Oklahoma,” Eric said, “to live
with our people, to participate in the tribe’s activities.”

“The Osage.”

Eric nodded.

“Do you talk to her?”

“Oh, sure. Couple times a week. Email. My mom’s
really cool.”

“And you?”

He grinned. “I moved to Utah. Knox got me into
Brigham Young University. He practically shoved me out of the plane
over Provo and told me not to come back until I had a doctorate in
something; he didn’t care what.”

“I take it you didn’t convert?”

“Oh, hell no. But he said I needed an attitude
adjustment and he didn’t have time to kick my ass constantly. My
only redeeming quality back then was that I actually bothered to go
to school and do the work, get good grades—and he wanted to help me
capitalize on that. So he sent me to the only school in the country
guaranteed to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

Vanessa looked at him, confused. “I don’t
understand.”

Eric grimaced and began to poke at his food. “You
know the rumors about me in high school? The partying, the girls,
the drugs?”

She cast a quick glance at Vachel, who shrugged.

“Oh, believe me,” Eric said dryly, “he knows all
about my history.”

Of course he would. Vanessa relaxed.

“And it’s all true. I couldn’t do any of that at
BYU. I mean, I could’ve, but it took a lot of hard work to find out
where the parties were if you weren’t an athlete. Plus, Knox made
it worth Dirk’s while to be my nanny until I was fully
assimilated.”

Vanessa feigned a grimace. “You poor thing.”

“Yeah. Had to cut my hair. Had to give up the
cigarettes and drugs because it was just too easy to get caught.
Getting liquor there isn’t the easiest thing to do, especially if
you’re underage. It was difficult to find girls who’d, ah—”

She blinked because she couldn’t believe it. Was he
blushing
underneath that tan?

“Put out?” Vachel supplied with a smirk.

Vanessa gaped at the boy, but Eric traded a wry
glance with him. “Yeah, that. It took a lot of effort when I
managed to find one.” He shrugged. “Or maybe I didn’t know where to
look. Anyway, I hated it and I bitched at Knox until he said, ‘Why
the hell do you think I sent you there?’”

She gestured toward him and said, “Well, apparently
you did actually assimilate, Mr.
GQ
Attorney.”

“I probably wouldn’t have made it, but two things
happened my first semester that kicked my ass better than Knox
could’ve.”

“Wait, let me guess. One of them was a girl.”

He laughed and she loved to see him laugh. “Yes, as
a matter of fact. I met a really nice girl in my history class that
I wanted to ask out. She was willing to be my friend but not date
me and that— That was humiliating. I wasn’t used to the word ‘no’
from a girl and I didn’t understand the concept of a guy and a girl
being just friends.” He stopped, then chuckled. “Well, I still
don’t get that.”

Vanessa had to laugh, because she didn’t either.

“Anyway,” he continued, “Heather and I hung out at
the library studying, and we ended up talking a lot. She made me
look at what I wanted to do with my life, figure out what I was
interested in and what I was good at. I figured out that I really
like nice girls, and she made me understand what nice girls look
for and want. They want a man with an education and class and
refinement. A guy who’s not a dog, only out for one thing.”

“Like you were in high school.”

He looked to Vachel and pointed his fork at him.
“Take note.”

Vachel snorted and Eric laughed. “So I decided to
roll with it. I wasn’t getting out of it. It wasn’t going to
change. I wasn’t going to be able to live the way I’d always lived
and she made me think I really didn’t want to. And I certainly
wasn’t going to tell Knox Hilliard that I refused to do this
anymore.”

Vanessa pursed her lips, able to empathize with that
completely.

“So what happened to that girl, Heather?”

“Oh, she went on a mission for the church. I never
saw her again. She’s probably long married by now with six
kids.”

“Ah. What was the second thing?”

He took a bite of food, and Vanessa waited. “My
first political science class. It hit something in me, got me fired
up. I hadn’t declared a major before I went; Knox said since I
didn’t have much life experience, it was just best to sample a
bunch of things and pick what interested me. And . . . political
science hit the spot right off the bat. I woke up one day toward
the end of the semester and I knew exactly what I wanted to do,
where I wanted to go, and how I wanted to get there. I also knew
I’d have to keep my life as squeaky clean as possible to have a
chance to get anywhere important.”

Vanessa stared at him. “So . . . being the
prosecutor is . . . ”

He nodded. “If I win on Tuesday, it’ll just be the
next phase in my career. Just like I mapped it out.”

“What’s after that?”

“Attorney general. Then governor. Then the White
House.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened a bit. He was so sure, so
definite about it, as if just saying it would make it happen, and
she didn’t doubt it would.

“I started blogging with Justice a couple of years
ago, and I’ve got a pretty wide audience now—”

She knew that, because she couldn’t keep herself
from visiting his blog.

. . . that’s when girls start getting stupid . .
.

It hadn’t even taken sex to make Vanessa get stupid
over Eric.

“—not too offended by the fact that a Libertarian
might run as a Republican, as long as everybody’s clear on my
opinions.”

“It’d change the face of the Republican party,”
Vanessa murmured, hearing the excitement in his voice and knowing
what his career plans meant for her.

“Exactly!” His face lit up in delight that she
understood. “Are you—?”

“Libertarian,” she said shortly.

He cocked his head a bit. “You read me?”

“I, uh . . . I . . . don’t get online much,” she
hedged. “I don’t have time.”

Fortunately, he took that at face value and
continued, every enthusiastic word chipping away at her. “Right
now, while I’m campaigning for the prosecutor’s office, I’m also
quietly campaigning for attorney general. The Republican party’s
waiting until after this election to see if I’ve got the chops and
then . . . we’ll see. If I win Tuesday, I’ll be on my way to
Jefferson City.”

She nodded, her heart breaking, knowing without
doubt that tonight was the end. “That’s— That’s wonderful. How is
your campaigning going?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he replied, his brow
furrowing. “My opponent is running on a platform of getting the
crooked bastards out and cleaning up Chouteau County. Since I was
part of the, ah, ‘conspiracy’ that kept Knox’s corrupt reputation
intact, I’m a crooked bastard, too.” He gestured to Vachel, who had
crossed his arms over his chest somewhere around the phrase
“political science” and fallen asleep, his chin against his chest.
“No matter how many times I say, ‘Look at the test results,’ or
‘Hello, blond hair,’ there are some people who aren’t going to
believe I’m not his father. There are a lot of people who believe I
raped Simone, and your mother— Well, she’s not a lightweight. She
can be very persuasive when she wants to be and . . . she’s
actively campaigning against me.”

“She’s very smart,” Vanessa whispered, looking down
at her plate, sick to her stomach for a whole lot of reasons.
“Clever. Manipulative, narcissistic. She can spin a complex lie and
remember every detail. I don’t know whether she ends up believing
her lies or not, but she can make people believe anything she
wants.”

“And considering Knox’s reputation, it’s not a
stretch to believe he might have thrown my trial. Then there’s
Parley and that’s being called out, too. I worked for Knox, so
there are people who believe that somehow I’m mixed up in that
cover-up. To top all that off, what I write gets taken out of
context and twisted.”

Vanessa pursed her lips. “My mother’s whole crowd
knows I’m with you tonight. Is that going to hurt you?”

He shrugged. “Doubt it. They’ve done all the damage
they can, I think.”

“What will you do if you lose Tuesday?”

“Go to work for Giselle’s husband while I run for
attorney general.” Vanessa nodded. “Get into tort law, where the
money is. I’ve never done that, so it’s kind of exciting to think
of stretching that way. Whatever happens, I have options.” He
gestured to her with his fork. “What about you?”

“Notre Dame,” she murmured. “Bachelor’s in
entrepreneurship and then culinary school in New York.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “No, I know all that,
thanks to
Esquire
. I meant Whittaker House. Resort, TV show,
what next?”

“Golf course,” she answered slowly, as each word
about their separate futures drove a bigger wedge between them.
“I’m building a golf course.”

He stilled and looked at her. “You don’t sound too
happy about that.”

Vanessa couldn’t help that Chef Granny Whittaker
came to the fore to cover her, to hide the tender underbelly of her
soul. She smiled brightly. “Oh, it’s not that. I just remembered I
have another zoning meeting to go to next week. Those are always a
fight, but the upcoming vote should tip things in my favor. I’ve
been trying to get this zoned for . . . two years, I think.”

“You mean they didn’t
want
a golf course?
Why?”

She took a deep breath. “It’s hard to explain.
Almost everybody likes Whittaker House. It’s pretty, it employs
people, it lets people show off their handcrafts and foods. The
Conservation Department set up shop on the back corner of my
property so they could help me with land management and run some
experiments, and give the school kids wildlife demonstrations.
Whittaker House brings money—good money—to the area. It takes the
edge off the Ozarks hillbilly stereotype, but it still retains its
small-town, cozy, homey feel.”

“And a golf course would make it more upscale and
suburban.”

“Yes. There are a lot of people who moved to the
Ozarks to get away from that. There are a lot of people who never
left because they don’t want to be in suburbia. A golf course
brings in a different kind of clientele and it’s too . . . ” She
pursed her lips while she looked for the right word. “City
slicker.”