Page 11 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

Then Carmichael would be mine.

When that day came, I needed Clara by my side. The last thing I needed was to strangle her sister at a wedding.

“I’m not taking Aria.”

“Then I’ll go.” Clara sighed and stood.

“I’ll go alone.”

She walked to the door, ignoring me completely. “See you at five.”

I waited until I heard the front door open and close. “No, you won’t.”

I’d leave here at four. By the time she wandered over, I’d be gone. And then she’d have no choice but to go home and rest.

It was just a wedding. I’d be fine alone, right?

This evening would be enough of a headache with my own family. I wasn’t adding Clara’s sister to the mix.

Fuck. Grandmother was a sick woman for making me go tonight. I rubbed a hand over my face and returned to the window.

And there she was. Aria. Still on the deck.

She’d traded her seat in the chair for a seat on the deck boards. Her legs were crossed as she and August bent over a toy. It looked like a car of some sort. Probably one of her presents. Gus loved remote-controlled toys so it wouldn’t surprise me

if he’d requested one from his aunt as a birthday gift.

I’d given him an actual ride-in Jeep. It always made me smile when I stood at the glass and watched him exploring his driveway and yard. There wasn’t much for greenery around my house, but Clara’s looked like a tropical paradise compared to the barren desert beyond the yard fence.

Aria’s doing, no doubt. This morning, when I’d had my coffee, she’d been out with watering can and shears, pruning the pots and planters.

She was a gorgeous woman.

Much to my dismay, her looks always made my heart beat a bit faster. Just my type too. Beautiful. Obstinate. Bold. Aria’s looks were different than Clara’s, though they shared some features. The pretty bows of their lips. The tips of their noses. The same shining brown eyes flecked with gold. And a realism for life beyond their years.

Clara and Aria were four years my junior, having recently turned thirty, but they carried themselves with wisdom gained from experience, not age. Maybe that was why Aria disliked me so. On day one, she’d looked me up and down and found me lacking.

She wasn’t alone.

Grandmother would probably love her. An image of them sitting together at the wedding popped into my head. They were laughing and drinking champagne as they kibitzed about my shortcomings and former vices. Women. Cars. Booze. Gambling.

Ten years ago, they would have been right. Ten years ago, I’d been young and impulsive. I’d thrown my money around like discount candy at a parade. But a lot had changed in a decade. I’d grown up. I’d made mistakes and learned from them. I’d been betrayed and learned from that too.

Still, when she looked at me, she saw my father.

Her son-in-law.

The man who’d corrupted her precious daughter. The man who’d spent her millions. The man who’d abandoned his own last name to assume hers.

At least he wouldn’t be there tonight. Grandmother couldn’t summon him or my mother from their graves. To this day I wasn’t sure if she’d been hurt by their deaths or if she was simply mad that death had stolen her puppets.

Clara and Aria had lost their parents in a drunk driving accident. The same way I’d lost mine, only my parents had been the drunk drivers.

On the deck, Aria laughed, throwing her head to the sky as August shot to his feet, the car in his hand, and ran to the grass. He raced it in swerves and circles across the lawn while his aunt watched on, clapping and cheering.

A gorgeous woman.

Her hair was darker than Clara’s. Both had dyed their natural dirty-blond shade. Clara had always gone for highlights, accentuating the blond. Aria’s seemed to get darker with each visit to Arizona. Today it hung in chocolate waves, messy and sexy, down to the middle of her back.