Page 7 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)

Chapter Four

Kat

S elfish, spoiled little rich girl.

What I’d seen as rejection at the time took on a new light now that I considered Nico’s side of it. Not once had I even considered the position I might be putting him in, with both my friendship and, later, my shameless flirtation. What an idiot I’d been.

Nico set a plate in front of me, then held up a bottle of hard cider from the fridge. “I have this, Sprite, or more water.”

I laughed, remembering that he’d gotten caught drinking one of those in the woods behind the house and been grounded for weeks. “Cider sounds wonderful right now.”

He grabbed a bottle for himself, popped the tops, and handed one to me. “Drink it slow,” he teased. “You might not think it was bad enough to warrant a doctor, but you did hit your head. And I still remember when you got drunk on the champagne you pilfered from some fancy event your father hosted.”

“I was tipsy, Nicolas, not drunk,” I replied haughtily.

“So tipsy you tripped into a hedge in the garden and needed me to pull you back out?”

“Okay, maybe I didn’t try very hard to remember that part of it. That was the last time I over-imbibed.”

“Really?” His eyebrows lifted. “No college parties, no club-hopping?”

“Nope. I do love a good wine cooler, but only one of them and only once in a while.”

Nico sat across the table from me and propped his chin on one hand, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. “Jamaican Me Crazy? Sex on the Beach? Strawberry Daiquiri?”

This time, I stuck out my tongue. “I am an equal opportunist when it comes to fruity concoctions.”

“If frozen pizza is an affront to my dad’s memory, I’m pretty sure Katherine Willoughby sipping a wine cooler is the ultimate sin in your father’s eyes.”

“Yes, because running an online resale business for vintage toys makes me his pride and joy,” I drawled. “This might come as a surprise, but I don’t give a shit what he thinks. I haven’t even seen him in years.”

Nico blinked at me. “Years? Really?”

I tipped my bottle in his direction. “Your stalker game is clearly not up to snuff, Beaumont. ”

He gave a thoughtful hum and dropped his gaze to his pizza. Though I was a bit unnerved by his sudden silence, I was also completely exhausted and my head still ached, despite the painkillers. We finished our dinner with little conversation, then Nico took our plates to the sink to wash up.

By the time he looked over again, probably expecting to see me pacing around the small cabin with my usual restless energy, I was still seated at the table and beginning to droop.

“Come on, up you get,” he said gently, pulling me to my feet.

He led me to the bedroom, flipped on the light, and showed me where everything was.

I ignored everything but the bed—Nico’s bed.

The temptation of collapsing onto a mattress that smelled like him was almost too much to resist, but he took my hand and led me into the bathroom, where a packaged toothbrush sat on the counter.

“If you had let me explain, we would’ve had the chance to go home and pack a bag for you. I have plenty of t-shirts and some sweatpants with drawstrings that I guess will have to do for now, but I can wash what you’re wearing. Anything in the dresser is up for grabs.”

With a huffed laugh, I said, “Maybe next time you should mail out a handwritten invitation with full instructions before you show up unexpectedly. Then I can keep an overnight bag packed and be ready to roll at a moment’s notice.”

“Very funny. There won’t be a next time. This is it, win or lose. I’ll be out on the couch if you need me. ”

“So I get this big bed all to myself? What, Nico, are you afraid you can’t keep your hands off me?” I taunted.

It was meant in jest, but my voice came out low and husky. Nico leaned down, so close that his cheek brushed mine in a whisper of sensation.

“Careful, Kitten.”

The words vibrated against my ear and goosebumps rose along my skin. I bit back the smartass remark I wanted to make, but I couldn’t resist turning my head a fraction of an inch, rubbing my soft cheek more firmly against the shadow of a beard gracing his jawline.

When he sucked in a sharp breath, I took a quick step back and smiled brightly up at him. Two could play this game.

“Right, then I’ll just get ready for bed. Goodnight.”

It was impossible not to feel his gaze burning into my back as I strolled into the bedroom and shut the door between us. As much as I wanted to collapse against it and relive that flare of heat, I suspected he was still standing there, still staring after me.

I gave myself a moment to take some slow, deep breaths, then moved to the dresser holding my meager wardrobe options.

You’re playing with fire, I told myself, but the warning inspired a thrill of excitement rather than suppressing it.

After spending so many of my formative years dreaming about being alone in close quarters with Nicolas Beaumont, reality burned hotter than I’d ever imagined. Even more importantly, he wasn’t immune to my charms, that much was clear .

As I pulled on a blue cotton pajama set I found in the top drawer, I contemplated our earlier conversation, his comments about not being able to get me out of his head.

This wasn’t how I’d expected a potential reunion to happen, though. We had each gone away for college, but I kept an eye on his social media and knew he’d come back to town afterward. I thought he worked in computer programming of some kind, figured he’d be tucked away in an office somewhere.

When he said he’d remotely disabled those security cameras, though, I had to second guess that particular assumption.

For years, I’d envisioned a reunion between us—of course, most of my fantasies started there and ended up fairly explicit. Now, seeing him in the flesh, it was clearer than ever that I hadn’t outgrown my feelings for him.

In truth, they seemed to have multiplied tenfold.

Just as I finished buttoning the pajama shirt, an amused huff came from the bedroom doorway and I jumped, startled. Nico had opened the door and leaned against the frame, arms and ankles crossed. When he only grinned, I scowled at him.

“You are a total creep,” I muttered.

“I just came to see if you needed any help. Figured it might be difficult to get changed with a sore arm.”

He slipped his hands into his pockets, smiling benignly as I humphed, turned away to fold up my discarded clothing, and tried to fight back the blush rising in my cheeks at the image his offer of help evoked.

“I managed just fine on my own, as you can see. ”

“Shame.” The word was so soft, I wondered for a second if he’d really even said it. I shot him a glance, saw his lips curve upward for a moment, then his expression grew sober. “I meant what I said earlier. You know I won’t hurt you, but I also can’t let you leave once we set things in motion.”

My mouth pressed into a thin line. “Is this you reminding me that I’m a prisoner here, even after all your reassurances that I haven’t actually been abducted?”

The curve of his lips reappeared and deepened, showing off that damned dimple again. “Yes, I suppose it is. If you don’t want to help me, this ends here and now. You go back to your life and I . . . well, I’ll think of something.”

Something in his expression—something bereft, almost hopeless—made the decision for me. This was Nico. His friendship had saved me from a childhood of loneliness and despair.

Helping him now was the least I could do to repay that.

“I’m in. I wish you’d explain what you’re after, but you have to know I’d choose you over my father no matter what. What’s going to happen if Erin tries to check in at my apartment, realizes I’m missing, and calls the police?”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m sure she’ll be worried about you, but that’s unavoidable.

Once I contact him, your father will step in and keep things quiet before word gets out, believe me.

” He turned away, then paused with his hand on the doorknob.

“Do you remember that time you tried to steal my copy of Firestarter out of my bedroom? ”

My lips parted in surprise when he glanced back over his shoulder. “Yes,” I said slowly. “It was my favorite book and my father threw mine out like the asshole that he is. Not suitable reading material for a young girl, something like that.”

Nico nodded. “Then you’ll remember that if it comes to a physical contest, you won’t win. Sweet dreams.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

A startled laugh caught in my throat as I shook my head at the clear warning. It was true—he’d always been bigger, stronger, and faster, but I’d been more clever and far more devious.

Until I learned the truth about what Nico was after, I had no intention of trying to get away from him, not yet. Should I decide it was in my best interest to bow out of this adventure, however, I was confident I could outsmart him, even if outrunning him wasn’t in the cards.

With that in mind, I went back to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash water on my face, pausing to study my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Though the cut on my arm still stung and a fresh wave of annoyance rushed through me as I lamented my favorite jacket being torn, right now I wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep for a good long time.

Let him enjoy the couch. I left the bathroom and grinned to myself as I eyed the queen-sized bed with satisfaction.

Nico had topped out at a few inches above six feet, by my estimate, and the thought of him folding those long limbs onto the ancient sofa in the other room was an image that gave me no small degree of pleasure.

Served him right for deciding to use me as a hostage, willing or otherwise.