Page 1 of The Keeper

Victoria

“Yes, Killian. I love standing on the side of the road in a foreign country to yell at my best friend on the phone. It’s my favorite.”

“You’re clearly unfamiliar with the old saying ‘don’t shoot the messenger,’” he groused with a hint of trepidation.

“Nobody else is in my line of fire at the moment,” I muttered.

“Lucky me.” I could hear his pout. “Look, we’ll figure it out tomorrow. The property isn’t going anywhere. The damn real estate agent certainly isn’t going anywhere. Stop pacing and yelling and pacing and yelling.”

I sighed, drawing a half circle in the gravel with my foot. “It’s annoying. I was told they wanted to meet and discuss all the paperwork tomorrow not today. That’s why I flew in now instead of yesterday with you guys. My mother keeps meddling and making this harder than it should be.”

“I know. That’s what we told the agent this afternoon. If it makes you feel any better, she was very understanding. And she’s fine with meeting you out there tomorrow.”

“Thank you for handling it. Sorry for all the frantic texts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My heart swelled with undying, unconditional affection for Killian Monroe, my closest friend since childhood. The second he found out I had to fly to England to deal with a long-neglected property my family owned, he jumped at the chance to accompany me. The added bonus was that Killian and his partner, Maxim Hadley, were a package deal, so I had double the support. Plus, they never passed up an opportunity for international travel.

While it comforted me to know I had them, I was still uneasy about actually being here. This cottage I had to deal with had been sitting unused for almost twenty years. I remembered coming here for summer vacations when life was simpler and didn’t have a permanent gray cloud hanging over it.

In its prime, the cottage was charming and quintessentially British, which always made me laugh since we were the typical American family. Well, we used to be.

It belonged to my dad’s side of the family —his parents were from England. After they died, it fell to him. Under different circumstances, he’d have been happy to keep it. But that was then, and this is now.

When my parents divorced, Dad split our family fortune into three equal parts. He took his share, jumped on a plane and ended up somewhere in Greece.

Mom stayed with me because I wasn’t old enough to be on my own. Or that’s the bullshit excuse she’d told herself. She couldn’t look at me without bursting into tears or lashing out. I reminded her too much of my sister and what happened. My twin’s death changed everything.

The money meant for me didn’t officially become mine until I turned eighteen. Once that happened, Mom married the first guy who put up with her for longer than five minutes and moved out. I lived the Ivy League dream at Dartmouth, graduated, moved to Manhattan, and threw myself into working.

“You’re stuck with me,” Killian declared. “Plus, I’m well versed in all things Chase Family Hysteria.”

“Yeah, well, you guys shouldn’t have to be mixed up in my ridiculous family drama. I mean, my mother could just as easily have sent the lawyer’s letter directly to the real estate people here. The woman hasn’t spoken to me in—” I stopped myself from saying the words. All I could do was continue pacing back and forth. The path I made would become a permanent fixture on the side of this road for sure.

In an attempt to quell my jittery nerves, I stopped pacing and soaked in the English countryside. The picturesque view could seduce even the most jaded traveler with its sweeping fields shuddering to life in the burgeoning spring. Weeping willow trees bent to meet the ground in grand gestures and old stone barriers protectively hugged any grass growing too close to the road. Early evening sunshine tinted everything it touched with a golden hue. If I stood still enough —which was challenging at this particular moment in time— it felt magical. Almost otherworldly.

“It looks like Middle Earth,” I mused.

“Hate to break it to you, baby girl, but that was New Zealand. More importantly, Middle Earth doesn’t exist. But Orlando Bloom does, and I’m hoping he’s around here somewhere.”

“Pretty sure he’s in L.A. with Katy Perry.”

The low rumble of an engine slowing down and the sound of tires rolling to a stop on gravel distracted me for half a second. I glanced over and saw a black Land Rover.

“Party pooper,” Killian chuckled. “Where are you anyway? Did you get lost on all those little winding roads? Do you need us to come find you?”

“No. I didn’t get lost.” I kept an eye on the Rover. “And I don’t need both of you to rescue me.”

“We don’t mind. You’re out there all by yourself. Some psycho could kidnap you.”

I rolled my eyes and paced again. “You watch too much Dateline. Nobody’s going to kidnap me. Although, a car just did pull up.”

“Seriously?” He sounded nervous.

“Yeah.” I looked to see if anyone got out yet. Nothing. “Maybe they think this is one of those texting rest stops or whatever. Do those even exist in England?”

“Probably. Listen, get back in your car and get your ass over here.”

“I can’t. You know how I am when all this nervous energy takes over. I’ll be distracted. I need to walk it off.”

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