Page 5 of Fairy Tale Lies
Chapter Three
Two months earlier, midmorning.
Greta twisted her key in the lock of the large oak double door to her mother and stepfather’s house and peered over her shoulder at the sky. Wind whipped through the trees and angry clouds gathered, promising a wicked May storm. The air gave off a vibe of rowdy danger.
Trepidation ran down her spine, and goosebumps rose on her arms. Even as an adult, she disliked thunderstorms. The violent beauty and chaos unsettled her. She preferred things calm and safe.
Stepping inside, she dropped her purse and keys on the vestibule’s delicate antique table. After heaving the heavy door closed, she disengaged the alarm then headed for the kitchen, passing the circular stairway on the long trek to the back of the house.
Her t-strap sandals clicked along the marble floor and echoed off the walls. The sound was desolate and usually bothered her. Not today. Right now, her sole focus was on getting that first cup of coffee.
Striding through the high-arched entrance of the kitchen, Greta made a beeline for the coffeemaker. After starting it, she leaned against the counter and yawned, wishing she’d stayed the night instead of getting up early to make the drive from her father’s place.
Her mother wasn’t home, waiting to dissect Greta’s life, pointing out the ways she was lacking. Guilt fused with frustration. Her attitude was ungrateful, but her mother’s overbearing ways chafed.
She’d hoped after moving away for college, the dynamics between them would change. No such luck.
Whenever she visited during school breaks, her mother ran her life like a drill sergeant. Parading Greta around to every boring social event in Petite Bois—and making sure everyone knew she was dating Blake, the most eligible bachelor.
After the breakup, Mother berated Greta privately for leaving Blake and insisted she give him another chance. If she spent too much time with her mother, she might wear her down. Not because she loved or wanted Blake, more from pure exhaustion. Mother was relentless.
That fear kept visits brief and infrequent.
They’d begun dating her last year of high school. Blake’s family was longtime friends with both her mother and father. Her family adored, heck still adored, him.
She had too, in the beginning. His confidence and cockiness made her feel sheltered and protected. Though, after a time, his arrogance and vanity ate at her admiration. The final offense was his wandering eye…and body.
Recalling the image of him kissing the curvy blonde, his hands under her skirt was no longer a punch in the gut. Instead, the overwhelming sensation was relief. Marrying Blake would have been a disaster.
It ate at her, all she’d given him. Three years of her life, her virginity, and for a while, her dignity. There was also the colossal mistake she made when they were together. The one in which she suggested he work for Swift. Even hinted to her father that Blake would be a perfect fit and put his resume on the top of the pile. That last blunder was coming back to haunt her this summer.
The coffee machine dinged, bringing Greta to the present. She stifled another yawn and grabbed a mug. The deliverymen were supposed to arrive between ten and one. The way these things worked, they’d probably turn up fifteen minutes after one.
Before the thought was even fully formed, the eerie chime of the doorbell echoed through the silent house, startling her. So much for the theory of late arrivals. The bell rang seconds later. She set her empty cup on the counter and made her way back to the front.
Impatient people. I mean, give me a minute to make it to the door.
“I’m coming,” she called pointlessly; the trek from the kitchen to the front of the house wasn’t a couple of steps. No one would hear her.
When she reached for the enormous handle, the bell chimed yet again. “Hold your horses,” she muttered, yanking open the door.
A reprimand hung from the tip of her tongue, and there it froze.
A tall, hulking man stood before her. She wasn’t frightened.
No, she was mesmerized.
A clap of thunder chased a strong gust of wind. It whipped around him as if trying to caress him with greedy, invisible hands, pushing midnight-black hair into his face. He thrust a free hand through the wild wavy locks, revealing stormy blue eyes.
His gaze bored straight into her like he could read every single one of her thoughts and knew her deepest desires.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she tore her eyes from his. Not knowing where to look, her gaze skittered over his face and shoulders, taking in the light stubble on his strong jaw. Her focus rested briefly on a full, generous mouth before moving to his open collar. There the barest hint of ink from a tattoo showed. She shifted back to his thick, disheveled hair and had to resist the urge to run her hands through the unruly locks.
These unwelcome thoughts surprised her. He wasn’t anything like the perfectly coiffed men in her life, yet she liked what she saw. Maybe because she’d been thinking of Blake, and this man was clearly his opposite.
The man cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple fascinating her for a couple of beats before she made her way back to his stunning eyes.
“Um, I’m Jacob Grimm with Careful Moves.”
