Page 4 of Best Laid Plans

Then I met Anson, and I wasn't alone anymore. In fact, my life was full of love, affection, and kindness. He'd given me the best night of my life…and then the worst.

On my birthday, a few days after I graduated from high school, I'd been waiting to get at least a message from him. It was nearly eight in the evening, the end of my shift, and there hadn't been a peep from Anson. My heart was heavy when, right before closing, I heard the diner door ring open. I was about to say that we were closed for the night when I saw Anson, a backpack slung over his shoulder, that he dropped on the floor when he opened his arms to me. I ran to him, leaping up, my legs wrapping around his waist.

"Happy birthday, Sugar."

"You're here. You're here." I kissed his face, and everywhere else I could reach. "How come you're here?"

"It's my girl's birthday. You think I wouldn't be here?"

I was so happy that everything inside me burst open with love. "I love you," I whispered.

He kissed me in the mouth. "I love you, too, Nova King. So, fucking much."

But when the shit hit the fan, it was evident that Anson Larue had been after one thing. And once he had it, he discarded me, just like my father had my mother. At least I hadn't gotten pregnant, and no thanks to him. I'd had the wherewithal to get an IUD implant at Planned Parenthood, once I decided I'd have sex with Anson. I wanted something foolproof, and I knew pills were not, as evidenced by several of the pregnant girls in my neighborhood. I'd also been warned that men forgot condoms, which could also break.

Anson had been a great lover, so tender that it had been jarring to be treated like trash by him a few hours later.

It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that Anson had believed that I was a thief because he wanted to. It was also clear to me that he didn't love me, because if you loved someone, you didn't abandon them the way he did me. If you loved someone, you didn't tell your friend to make sure you were roughed up in jail.

Pete took pleasure in telling me all about it after Anson left me in prison, causing me more pain than I'd ever felt in my young life.

"He wants to make sure you hurt, Nova, and I have just the way to do it."

In my nightmares, it wasn't Raymond Carre, the drunk sex offender who hurt me. It was always Pete Fontaine and Anson, who stood by laughing.

Chapter 3

Anson

Nina laughed out loud when I told her about Nova.

"What's so funny?" I asked, appalled at her reaction.

"You think I didn't know about what happened in Sentinel?" Nina smiled. "I know. I was friends with Emmett."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Emmett Bodine?"

That was the man who had interfered on behalf of Nova, and had her released from jail by calling the Governor, his fucking cousin. My friend Pete, then Deputy Sheriff and now Sheriff, hadn't had a choice but to let her go. In fact, the county Assistant District Attorney had come down with Nova's lawyer to have her released.

"I didn't know yours was the family that accused her." Nina's eyes were not smiling but had become firm. "I think considering this conflict of interest—"

"What conflict?" I leaned back. Like hell, was I going to let Nova play Nina. I loved Valen like a brother. I'd take care of his sister as if she were my own.

"You think she's a thief and want her fired. I believe Nova is one of the most honest people I know."

Nina was a handsome, beautiful woman. I knew she was in her late forties, though she could pass for someone in their thirties with ease. She had the same gray eyes as Valen, and her hair was brown, tied in a ponytail. Her reputation was one of being pragmatic. Savannah Lace was a successful boutique architecture and design firm that preferred to hire women. Nina hadn't gotten this far by being hoodwinked by con artists, but then Nova was better than most.

"What if I got you evidence?" I challenged her.

"You get me evidence that's irrefutable, sure. But I've known Nova for longer than you knew her, Anson, and I can tell you that there isn't a deceitful bone in that girl's body."

I scoffed. "If I'd known you hired her, I'd have been here earlier."

"And I still wouldn't have listened to you. I like to make my own decisions," Nina countered. "Now, you want to talk Larue Homes, or should we agree to disagree, and you find another architecture and design firm to take care of your Sentinel Heights project?"

Larue Homes had had an exclusive contract with an Atlanta architecture firm for years, but once that exclusivity expired, I'd started to look around. Savannah Lace had been popping up as a boutique firm that was on the up and up. After discussing Nina's projects with my team at Larue Homes, I decided to approach Savannah Lace about building a high-end luxury home enclave in Sentinel.

This project was close to my heart—a way to boost the local economy and showcase the beauty of Sentinel, nestled at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains near the Chattahoochee National Forest.

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