Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two (12 page)

“Hey, Derek, here’s the key to the cash bag. I counted out the day’s receipts, but I haven’t matched them up against the totals.” He dropped the key into Derek’s upturned palm.

Derek closed his hand and pocketed the key. “Thanks.”

Awkward silence ensued for a good thirty seconds before Kyle said, “See you later.”

Tori gestured for him to come over to where she and Dylan were talking. “Kyle, I wanted to tell you that the permits are in the approval process. We’ll be ready to move ahead with the restaurant and brewpub as soon as the wedding space is done.”

“Great.” Kyle couldn’t wait to get started. He jabbed his thumb toward Dylan. “We should give this guy and his crew a few days off at least.”

She looked over at Dylan. “Yeah, we should.”

Dylan shook his head. “Not necessary.”

Tori frowned at him. “Hey, just because you’re a workaholic doesn’t mean your employees should be.”

“It’s cool. My guys are taking time as they need it.”

“Are
you
?” Tori asked. “If you don’t take at least one day off, my sister’s going to have a fit.”

Sara was over chatting with Chloe. As if she knew she was being mentioned, she waved at them. Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take a couple.”

Kyle slapped him on the back. “Smart man.”

They talked for a while longer about the project before Kyle asked if they wanted to join him over at the A.F. Nichols booth for a glass of pinot. Before they could be on their way, Derek came toward them. Kyle was surprised when he didn’t immediately tense. Maybe Maggie’s breathing exercises really were helping.

“Kyle, can I talk to you?” Derek’s tone was stern, provoking Kyle’s muscles to bunch up.

“Sure.”

They moved away from Tori and Dylan.

Derek glanced away. He seemed uncomfortable.
Great
. “I just checked the receipts, and they don’t match up with the cash bag. Are you sure you counted correctly?”

Ice pricked Kyle’s spine. “Yeah, I counted it three times. I suppose I could’ve miscounted what I left in the box.”

Derek shook his head, his dark blue eyes growing even darker. “No, I counted that, too. And I had Scott double-check it. There’s money missing.”

“There can’t be. I was at the booth all afternoon.” Except for when he’d gone to get lunch. “It has to be there somewhere.”

Kyle stalked toward the booth. Derek was right behind him, and together they searched the small space.

“What’re you guys looking for?” Natalie asked.

“There’s some money missing—almost a hundred bucks,” Derek muttered.

She glanced between them. “Can I help?”

Derek stopped and looked at Kyle. “It’s not here.”

They’d exhausted every nook and cranny. “I don’t know what happened.”

Derek inclined his head for Kyle to follow him out of the booth. When they were out of earshot of the others, he lowered his voice. “Did you take it?”

Kyle glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“You’re a real dick, you know that? Of course I didn’t take it.”

“You wouldn’t lie, would you?”

Kyle couldn’t tell if Derek wanted to believe him or not. And he didn’t care. His head was swimming. It was one thing to feel betrayed by your best friend and another to realize he’d lost all faith in you. “No, and I’ll tell you this,” he said, leaning forward and sneering at the man who’d once been closer to him than any of his blood brothers, “if I’d wanted to take some money to gamble, a lousy hundred bucks wouldn’t cut it.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

Dad came up to them. Kyle cringed. He was just what this situation needed. “What’s going on?”

“The till’s missing close to a hundred dollars,” Derek said, never taking his gaze from Kyle’s.

Kyle’s blood pounded through his veins as his heart rate sped up. “Derek thinks I took it.”

Dad blinked at him. “Did you?” At least
he
looked disbelieving.

“No, Dad. I didn’t. But thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt. I gotta go.” He started to turn, but Derek grabbed his bicep.

“You can’t just leave.”

“Why not? What’re you going to do? Call the cops? Notify everyone that I’m a thief and a gambler and an utter wastrel?” He laughed bitterly. “Go ahead, but I’m not sticking around for it.” He wished he had a hundred dollars on him to throw in their faces, but that would only make him look guilty. In fact . . . He pulled out his front pockets, showing them to be empty and took his wallet from his back pocket. Opening the slot where he kept his bills, he showed them the interior. “Here.” He counted it out. “Thirty-three bucks. All yours.” He shoved it at Derek. “Dock my pay for the rest.” He threw Dad a glare. “Or are you going to fire me on the spot for larceny?”

Derek hadn’t caught all the money. He bent to retrieve it.

“Derek, maybe you owe Kyle an apology,” Dad said.

Derek shot up, his blue eyes blazing. That had been the wrong thing to say. Kyle had been waiting for an apology from him for almost four years, and according to Derek, he’d wait until hell froze over.

Kyle stood his ground and held his breath.

“I’ll apologize when we find the money,” Derek said. Then he turned and stalked off.

Fury twisted through Kyle, making him want to do . . . something.

“I know you’re mad,” Dad said. “I’ll talk to him. You really have no idea what happened to the money?” There was a sadness to the question that indicated Dad wasn’t completely sure he believed what Kyle had said. And that sent him over the edge.

“Don’t bother.” He spun around and took off for his car, which was across the street from the park where the festival was being held.

Sara caught up to him before he got to the edge of the park. “Kyle, wait up. I thought we were getting a glass of wine. What’s wrong?”

He slowed but didn’t stop. “Nothing.”

She touched his back. “Can I do something?”

He looked at her over his shoulder and was surprised to find that the only person he wanted to talk to right now was Maggie. That the only person who could really help him was her.

“Thanks, Sara-cat, but I need to get out of here.”

She dropped her hand. “Okay. Call me if you need anything?”

He nodded, then crossed the street to his car. He waited until he was a few blocks away before he called Maggie. Her phone went directly to voicemail.

Shit
.

He circled the block and tried her again. Still voicemail.

Frustration curdled through him. He needed to talk to her, damn it. He drove to the edge of town, saw the signs for the highway, and realized he could be at the Indian casino in less than twenty minutes.

Hell, if everyone was so dead set on believing the worst of him, who was he to disappoint?

Chapter Eight

M
AGGIE SPENT THE
first part of her appointment with Amy talking about her patient, Ryan. More specifically, they’d focused on Maggie’s discomfort stemming from his suicidal thoughts.

Amy scribbled on her notepad. “I sense your anxiety isn’t entirely due to this patient—though I recognize this is a considerable stressor for you.”

Maybe an understatement. Maggie had actually worried that she was going to have a full-on panic attack that morning when Baylor had asked if she could take a new patient who was recovering from a suicide attempt.

She shook the recollection away and—reluctantly—addressed Amy’s unspoken question. “There’s more,” she said slowly. “I decided to help Kyle Archer track down who sold Alex the drugs he used.”

Amy’s brows pitched up as she made a note. “How’s that going?”

“Fine.”

Amy gave her a direct look and smiled softly. “Do you really think I’m going to accept that kind of answer?”

As a therapist Maggie knew better. She exhaled and uncrossed her legs, planting her feet flat on the floor in front of the couch. “No. We’ve been spending a little bit of time together. I guess I’ve been sort of counseling him.”

“Really?” Amy’s surprise was evident in her tone, and her pen scratched furiously over the paper. “You were reticent at our meeting last week.”

Maggie shrugged, feeling defensive, though she knew she shouldn’t. “I wanted to help him.” Plus, he’s funny, caring, and completely gorgeous. And a magnificent kisser. “We had a lead, but it didn’t pan out.”

“I see. Are your interactions entirely about the drug issue, or is there more to it?”

Sometimes Amy was too clever for her own good. “There’s a little more to it, I guess.”

“How do you feel about that?” A therapist’s favorite question.

Maggie couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Fine.” She laughed as she realized she’d done it again. “It makes me feel good but a little anxious. There’s no future there.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Kyle Archer. I can’t become romantically involved with my dead client’s brother.” She sat back against the couch and crossed her legs again. “And I’m a mess.”

“You’re not as messy as you think, and I don’t see how Alex is a permanent barrier to a relationship with Kyle. Yes, there are things you’ll need to work through, but if he’s also interested . . .”

Was he? In kissing, for sure, but more than that? She really didn’t know, and she didn’t want to. The “things” they’d need to work through were insurmountable in her eyes. It was one thing to work through her guilt and find a place of peace, but if she were with Kyle, his brother would always be there in the background. A grim reminder of how badly she’d failed him.

“I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I don’t think I have it in me to work through this. Which is fine. I like Kyle, and I’m glad I’m helping him, but when we get to the bottom of that, we’ll go our separate ways.”

“I see. That sounds like a good plan. For now.” Amy sounded skeptical, like she suspected Maggie would change her mind. “What else is going on?”

Maggie thought about her house and her mother’s reaction and the fact that she was hiding the situation from pretty much everyone. But bringing it up now felt like an admission that there was a problem, and if she did that, she’d have to accept that she was in worse shape than she realized. If that were true, she’d have to reassess so many things, first and foremost her job. “My mom came by last night. Kyle was there.”

Amy chuckled. “I can imagine how that went.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Horrific. However, she did bring me a plant I’d always wanted.”

Amy’s eyes softened with understanding. “That must’ve been a nice moment for you. Tell me, did she embarrass you with Kyle? Did you feel anxious afterward?”

“It wasn’t totally humiliating, but she assumed—verbally—that Kyle and I were together, which Kyle found amusing. I was less anxious than I would’ve been if I hadn’t already taken a Xanax after my appointment with Ryan. I admit I did have a glass of wine after she left.”

Amy scrunched her lips together in disapproval. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say you mixed alcohol with antidepressants.”

“I drank it hours after the Xanax, and it was a small glass.” She felt like she’d been caught sneaking her mom’s vodka in high school. If her mom had been the type to care about that sort of thing. “Small
ish
. Not huge.”

Amy nodded, writing. Probably:
Poor decision-making. Impulse-control problems.
She looked up. “I didn’t realize you were still taking Xanax. That was a short-term medication while you were taking your leave of absence, right? I thought you stopped taking it.”

She’d mostly cut it out, reserving it for when Mom made her especially tense. Or when Kyle Archer had shown up in her office.

“It’s important you take care of yourself, Maggie.” Amy’s tone was stern but kind. “It’s one thing for us to joke about you being a therapist who’s in therapy and another for you to lose sight of what you need to do to be truly healthy.”

This wasn’t soothing Maggie’s angst. She considered popping another Xanax when she left, but Amy was right. She needed to learn to cope without the medication. The way she used to before Alex had killed himself. She uncrossed her legs and leaned down to pick up her purse off the floor. Retrieving her pill box, she opened it and sorted out the Xanax from the Tylenol. She held all nine pills out to Amy. “Here.”

Amy stretched out her palm. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Maggie dropped them into Amy’s hand.

“Do you have more at home?”

“Yes, but I’ll flush them.”

“Only if you’re comfortable, Maggie. This is a process, and you’re doing well. I want you to know that. To own that. You don’t ever give yourself enough credit. One of these days I hope you’ll let me explore with you why that is.”

Because Mark had robbed her of her self-worth and she’d just managed to find it again when Alex had gone and stolen it once more. She resisted the urge to snatch one of the pills back and take it.

Breathe, Maggie
.

She inhaled deeply and let it out. “I know what I need to do.” Just maybe not necessarily how to do it . . . She didn’t care what Amy said—she was a mess.

“Our time’s up,” Amy said. “Unless you want to stay?”

No, she wanted air. She practically jumped up, grabbing her purse as she stood. “I’m good. Thanks, Amy, really.”

She confirmed her next appointment, and they said good-bye. As Maggie walked out to her car, she dug her keys out of her purse. Her hand nudged the pocket with her pillbox, now devoid of Xanax. That’s okay, she had more at home.

No, she said she’d throw them out. She could do this. She could think of Mark and Alex without feeling panicked.

She got into her car and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. Her phone half fell out, and she saw two missed call notifications on the screen.

Kyle
.

He’d called thirty minutes ago. Twice. But he hadn’t left a voicemail. Was he okay? The urge to focus her energy on someone else’s problem drove her to call him back.

He picked up immediately. “Maggie?” His voice was thin, tense.

Her angst fell away, replaced by a shock of concern for him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m at the casino.”

Shit.

“I can be there in thirty minutes.” Thankfully Amy’s little office was halfway to Ribbon Ridge. Maggie started the engine. “What are you doing?” Hopefully he hadn’t already gambled and she wasn’t too late.

“Sitting in my car.”

She exhaled softly as she pulled out onto the street. “You haven’t gone inside?” She ought to put in her headset, but she was too intent on keeping him with her.

“Not yet.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

A beat of silence. Her neck prickled with anticipation.

He breathed. “No, just get here.”

She drove toward the highway, eager to floor the gas pedal. “I will. Don’t go inside.”

“I’ll try not to. Just hurry.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Reluctantly, she ended the call and drove west. She didn’t turn on the radio as thoughts of what had prompted Kyle to go there swirled in her mind.

When she turned into the casino parking lot, she called him back. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“Three rows from the front on the left—between the casino and the hotel.”

She drove toward his location, scanning the area for his black SUV. Catching sight of it, she found an empty spot nearby and parked. She grabbed her purse and jumped out of her car. Belatedly she realized she hadn’t ended the call and did so as she strode up to his open driver’s window.

From the set of his jaw, she could see he was on edge. “Kyle?”

He turned his head. She’d never seen him look so agitated. The casual beach bum with the golden smile and the sparkling oceanic eyes was nowhere to be found.

“Do you want to walk with me?” she asked, sliding her purse strap over her shoulder and wondering why in the hell she’d brought it in the first place. Habit. She hated leaving it in the car.

He turned the key in his ignition, and her breath caught. Was he going to bail?

Then his window went up, and he pulled the key out. She let the air out of her lungs and waited as he got out of the car. Instead of walking, he leaned back against the door.

Apparently they were standing here for now.

“Do you want to talk about this or something else?” It was better to let him guide the discussion. Pushing him could backfire, and she was here to help him.

“I was at the festival. At the booth. There was a . . . problem.”

She cocked her head to the side, listening.

“Some money went missing—not much, just under a hundred dollars. Derek accused me of taking it.”

Anger coiled through her. She’d never met Derek, had only heard about him through Alex and knew that he and Kyle were former best friends who were now estranged. Nevertheless, she wanted to rail at him for his faithlessness. But it wouldn’t help Kyle for her to get upset. She needed to pull him back from the ledge, so she tamped down her own emotions.

“What happened after that?” She hoped that his sister or someone had stood up for him.

“Dad wasn’t exactly supportive.” He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, but it wasn’t yet dusk.

“He agreed with Derek?” she asked, also wanting to give Rob Archer a piece of her mind.

“Not exactly.” Kyle lowered his head, and the look in his eyes provoked a longing she’d never felt before. An eagerness—no, a need—to reach out to him.

She stepped forward and took his hand, expecting to provide comfort but instead feeling a jolt of desire.
Cool it, Maggie.
“What did your Dad say?”

“That he’d talk to Derek. But he asked me again if I took the money, and while I think he wants to believe me when I say I didn’t, I’m not sure he did.”

She began to see why he might have left town and not looked back. “Was it always like this? Growing up, did it always feel like you were held to another standard?”

He gazed down at her in wonder, as if she were the first person to understand. As a therapist, she got that a lot, and she was glad for the patient when it happened. But from Kyle, she felt something far deeper—an awareness she didn’t share with her patients. “Somewhat, yes. There was always competition, particularly with Liam. I was great at sports, but not much else. Liam is good at everything.”

From what she knew of Liam from Alex, she knew that wasn’t true. When it came to family relationships, he pretty much sucked. Of everyone in the family, Alex had spoken of him the most.

“Is this about Liam or Derek?”

Kyle raked his hand through his hair, mussing the blond strands. “It’s about all of them. I just . . . It doesn’t matter what I do.”

She stroked his hand. “Yes, it does. I know it feels like you aren’t making progress, but I think you are.” She couldn’t say that for sure since she didn’t know how he was being received. But if his being here, filling in for his brother at Archer and participating in the monastery renovation didn’t change their opinions, they were close-minded, judgmental assholes.

“How can you say that?” he asked, echoing her thoughts.

“Because I can’t believe you came from a family of self-absorbed jerks.”

The intensity of his stare would’ve burned her if it had been a tangible thing. “Why not? Most people think I’m the most self-absorbed jerk of them all.”

“Then you aren’t showing them who you really are.” She moved her hand up his arm, skimming over his muscled flesh until she reached his bicep. “You aren’t showing them what you show me.”

He reached out, grasped a curl beside her cheek, and brushed it back, his fingertips grazing her scalp. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“A thoughtful, caring gentleman who wants to do right by his brother, by his family. Who wants to find a way back home.”

“I know this is therapy, that you’re saying this as a professional, but I don’t care.” He bent his head toward her. “Thank God you’re here.” His lips brushed over hers. The contact was gentle but soared through her like a bird taking flight. Triumphant, joyous.

“I’m not saying that as your therapist,” she said against his mouth. “I’m not your therapist. I’m . . .
hell
, I don’t know what I am.” She curled her hands around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him more deeply. Opening her mouth, she slid her tongue into his.

With a groan, he clasped her head between his hands, angling and holding her for the onslaught of his kiss. She cast her head back and invited him to feast, just as she was taking what she wanted of him. He pressed into her, bringing his hips against hers.

She glided her hands down his chest, skidding over his muscles. God, how she wanted to feel him flesh to flesh. She wrapped her hands around his back and drew him against her. Better, but still not good enough.

Following her lead, he moved his hands down her back. One clutched her waist while the other went further and splayed over her hips, his fingertips digging deliciously into her ass.