Page 3 of Vodka and Chocolate Drops

Anger roared through her veins with a power that made her arms shake and her quads throb as she thought again about the way he’d kept the book a secret from her. How she’d brought him meals in his little holiday trailer. How she’d been so excited to be a part of his world and to be living with a writer.

Hide-a-key. He’d hidden a key on the outside of the trailer. Within minutes she’d found its hiding spot on the RV’s underside, and popped the door, dumping all his possessions inside. Next, she went to the machinery shed where Russell’s aunt--their landlord--stored her late husband’s old backhoe and bulldozer. Amber couldn’t tow the trailer out of the yard with her car, but with the backhoe she could.

She started up the machine and then, after experimenting with the levers and pedals, eased it out into the uneven, sloping yard, lifting the tongue of Russell’s trailer with the bucket. She began tentatively backing the trailer around the house, planning to leave it parked along the property’s edge. If she didn’t have to talk to her ex again she’d be less likely to say something that would result in a sequel toEmber Unfolded. Or end up sued for placing her foot so far up his you-know-what that he’d need dentures.

She turned the backhoe’s bucket, trying to angle the trailer away from the yard’s steep drop-off. She could easily end up with it pinned against the cliff’s edge if she wasn’t careful. But instead of turning away from the dry gulch, it veered closer. Amber slammed on the brakes before the RV went too far, but the sudden stop popped the trailer’s tongue off the bucket, and she watched, aghast, as Russell’s writing cave bounced along the ground, away from her. She let out a squeak as it rolled over the edge, disappearing as though it had been pulled by an undertow.

She jumped out of the machine and peered over the cliff. The trailer struck the rocky bottom as she watched, its thin walls shattering on impact, sending up a cloud of papers as its propane tank exploded, engulfing the debris in a massive ball of flame.

Well then.

With jellylike legs she patted the air beside her, seeking something to support her. This was definitely going to complicate things.

* * *

Amber saton an outcropping of rocks, watching the flames consume what had been her ex-boyfriend’s writing room. Big clouds of black smoke billowed up from the valley below, sending birds flying in all directions.

Now this was cathartic. She only wished she’d done it intentionally and that Russell had been here to see it all. She wanted him to know what he’d done to her, and to feel remorse--the kind that would keep him up at night. She wanted him to see what his little game of fame was costing her on a personal level.

In reality, though, she hoped she never saw him again and that the whole world would forget about him and his book. She even dared hope that women who heard her story went out and burnedEmber Unfoldedin an act of woman-scorned solidarity.

As the chill of the rocks beneath her seeped through her jeans, Amber wondered how she had ever managed to fool herself into thinking she loved Russell enough to turn a blind eye to all the little facts about him and his project that had never lined up enough to make her feel truly secure.

A million revenge plots ripped through her mind as she thought of all the ways she’d allowed herself to be deceived. She struggled to focus less on the anger that was making her head hurt and more on calming down.

Take in the mountainous solitude. The birds. The clouds. Breathe in, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four.

What a prick! She couldn’t believe he’d done that to her. And so publicly.

Stop it. Stop thinking. Breathe in. Breathe--what a complete fool she was! She hoped there had been some good stuff in the trailer. Stuff he’d actually miss, because he sure as heck wouldn’t be missing her now that his book was released. How had she fallen for--no. Focus on breathing. Breathe in, two, three, four.

In the distance, fire trucks roared up the gravel road to the old ranch, clouds of dust whirling behind them similar to the smoke still billowing out of the gulch. Amber climbed down the outcropping, wrapping her arms around herself against the cool wind rolling down the mountains. She felt depleted, exhausted, and her mind refused to shut up about Russell and his betrayal.

A police truck pulled up beside her, tires locking, and Amber’s best friend, Scott Malone, leaped out, looking so utterly relieved to see her safe that tears sprang to Amber’s eyes. Why couldn’t she fall for a man like him? Someone who cared deeply and didn’t betray her at every turn. Someone who was always there for her no matter what.

She fell into Scott’s outstretched arms and he crushed her against him. He smelled of sunshine and Old Spice, and felt like everything good and safe. He released her and held her out in front of him. He was tall, broad, and as handsome as ever in his police uniform. And worried as all get-out.

“Are you okay?” He gave her shoulders a light shake when she didn’t reply immediately.

She nodded and he pulled her back into a hug so fierce she could barely draw in a breath without breaking a rib. She tapped his shoulder, an old wrestling move from gym class that told him he needed to ease up. He used to pin her down just for fun and his bulk had always been oddly comforting, but right now it was a bit too much.

He held her in front of him once more giving her another look of assessment before tugging her close again, inhaling as he squeezed.

“I saw Russell on the news,” he said, his voice laden with anger. “And then to get the call that there was a possible explosion and fire up here.” He finally released her, his jaw clenched so tight Amber was surprised he still had teeth.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” she said, her voice trembling. She wanted to snuggle against him once more, he felt so good, strong, comforting. In his arms she was safe, loved, unjudged.

Firefighters had begun spraying water into the deep gulch, the droplets dispersing before they reached the flames. A few men prepped to rappel closer with hoses, opting to forgo a helicopter.

“What happened?” Scott asked, taking in the scene.

Heat rushed to Amber’s cheeks. How could she explain this to Scott, the cool, collected man who always did the right thing, dated the right women--women who went on to become beauty queens or mayors of neighboring towns? How could Amber tell him she’d foolishly trusted the wrong guy, then made a poor move while trying to rid her life of his possessions after he’d revealed the depth of his betrayal on national television?

“Um…”

“Why is there a backhoe?” Scott squeezed his forehead with his thumb and index finger as though trying to push away a headache. “Please tell me you didn’t do any of the things I’m thinking you did.”

Amber gave her friend a pleading look. “It was an accident. I swear.”

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