Page 33 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

“Wait. Clara—” Too late.

She’d taken the phone from her ear before I could tell her that I wasn’t ready to talk to Brody yet. I wanted his number so I could call him before my flight tomorrow, but I hadn’t worked out what to say yet.

Clara’s voice echoed in the background as she spoke to Brody. “Phone call for you.”

“Who is it?” His deep voice hit my ear and my panic spiked.

Tell him.

I was going to puke again. I’d survived plenty of hard moments in my life. The death of my parents. Living with my uncle. Running away at fifteen. But for some reason, this seemed like the hardest of them all.

My entire body trembled as I listened, waiting for Brody to get on the line.

Clara said my name, then there was a long pause.

“What?”

One word and all my fears disappeared. One bark from an arrogant jerk and I wasn’t scared anymore. No, I was pissed. “Hello to you too.”

“I’m busy, Aria.”

“God, you are an asshole. I hope our baby gets his or her personality from me.”

“W-what?”

So he wasn’t a complete robot. I’d rattled him. Good. I was rattled too. “You heard me.”

Brody went still. The air in the greenhouse swirled from the fans that we ran year-round. Their hum was the only noise. Not even his breath registered in my ear.

“Brody,” I said.

No response, not even to ask me if I was sure he was the father.

“Brody.”

Dead air.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and my mouth fell open. It was quiet because he’d hung up on me. “That son of a bitch.”

Tossing the phone to the table, I shot out of my chair and stalked through the greenhouse. He’d hung up on me. He’d actually hung up on me. My fingers itched to strangle something—or someone, but that someone lived in Arizona.

“How dare he hang up on me? How fucking dare he?” My voice bounced around the empty room. “Grrr. I hate him.”

I walked the length of the greenhouse twice, my anger growing with each step. Sitting at my desk would only make me crazy, so I grabbed a pair of leather gloves and got to work. I pulled a stool up to a table and began planting some seeds for the spring greenery. Million bells. Cosmos. Zinnias. It wasn’t on the schedule to start them until January, but a few extra days wouldn’t hurt.

I’d never been fancy with the varieties we planted. My predecessor and mentor hadn’t been either. He’d taught me that sometimes the most amazing displays were nothing more than abundant color. I preferred hardy plants that would survive the regular touches from guests and the sniffs from pets and kids.

My anger at Brody kept me company while I lost myself in the dirt and seeds and quiet whirl of the greenhouse. Clara tried to call a few times but I pushed her to voicemail and sent her a text that I’d call later. I couldn’t talk to her, not when she was so close to Brody. Bastard.

Hours later, well past the noon hour and close to dinner, my stomach growled so loudly the sound echoed in the greenhouse.

An enormous appetite came crashing down, and for the first time today, I was ravenous. The same had happened yesterday and the day before. My body didn’t want a thing before four, then afterward, I’d eat and eat and eat until bedtime.

Quickly tidying up my workspace, I returned to my desk for my coat and keys. I jotted down a message on a sticky note for the staff to water the seed trays I’d planted while I was in Arizona for the holiday, though the note was unnecessary.

The winter grounds crew was the full-time crew. They were all at the hotel, completing the short to-do list I’d assigned this morning. If there was a snow flurry, they’d take care of the shoveling and plowing. They’d ice the sidewalks. And they’d water, inside the hotel and here too.

Today wasn’t the first time I’d been in a mood that had resulted in new plants to tend.