he is, he knows you. Perhaps a relative or a friend who knew you would be gone?”
“No, no,” Howard said, clearly insulted that Cooper could suggest such a thing. “No one I know, let alone am related to, would be involved in blackmail. That’s preposterous. What did this person say his name was?”
* * *
LIVIE COULDN’T HELP REMEMBERING. The living room looked exactly as it had that night. The fire crackled in the large rock fireplace. The deep leather chair next to the fire had the same feel to it as she had sunk into it now.
Mostly, she remembered being so relieved and grateful to be out of the storm. She could have frozen to death in her car if he hadn’t come along when he did.
What scared her was that her life outside of Beartooth, Montana, had seemed so far away that night. Was that also why she’d lied about her name? Or had she just wanted to be someone else that night and not think about Cooper and their problems? For weeks, she’d felt exhausted by their arguments, his stubbornness and her hurt that he wouldn’t give an inch. She’d been so tired of making excuses for him to her family.
As she now took in the room, she knew why she’d felt safe here and she figured Cooper did, too. She would have been comfortable here because it was what she’d grown up with. And she’d trusted the man because she’d thought they’d had that in common.
Why hadn’t she sensed that things weren’t what they seemed? Or had the man who’d pretended to own the house also wanted to be someone else that night?
She could feel Cooper’s gaze on her. She’d seen the way he’d taken in the cozy scene in front of the fireplace. From his expression, she knew what he was seeing—her here with another man.
And it had all been a lie from the start.
Add to that the connection between the Wellesleys and her father. They had not only met him in this area of Montana, but also had him back to this very house for drinks. It all seemed surreal and yet too real. Her father had always warned his daughters about people who might want to take advantage of them because of who they were. No, she thought now. Because of who he was.
“Howard asked you what the man’s name was,” Cooper said, bringing her out of her reverie. It surprised her that Cooper wasn’t the one who’d asked before this. Apparently he hadn’t cared. Not that she’d thought the name would have meant anything to him since it hadn’t her.
“Hank Wells.” It sounded as fake as it probably was now that she’d said it out loud. So why hadn’t she questioned it that night?
To her surprise, Howard gasped.
“You know him?” she asked.
“Hank Wells was the name I went by when I played in a band,” he said.
“It was a long time ago,” Amelia said as if she’d heard the story too many times. “The band only played a few years and hardly anyone has ever heard of them since they had only one minor hit.”
One minor hit? “The man played me a song. He said he wrote it for the band. ‘Wandering Ways’?” Livie asked.
“Appropriate,” Cooper said under his breath.
“That was it,” Howard said, and Amelia took a drink of her wine. He had paled and now appeared even more upset and confused. “I don’t understand this.”
Livie hadn’t noticed the beat-up inexpensive guitar in the corner until that moment. “That guitar...” She got to her feet. The battered guitar had seemed out of place that night, so much so that she’d asked the man about it.
Howard started to say something, but quickly rose to hurry over and take the guitar from her, as if it was a priceless vase.
“The guitar...” She looked to Howard in confusion. “It’s yours?”
“It’s my first guitar,” he said, his expression softening with both self-depreciation and fondness. “It was all I could afford at the time. I spent many hours playing this when I used to travel with...”
“The Sidewinders,” Livie said.
Howard nodded slowly as he put the guitar back where it had been.
“The man who brought me here told me about the band and what it was like traveling from town to town playing noisy bars.” She could feel Cooper’s gaze on her.
“What did this man look like?” Howard demanded as he took his seat again on the couch next to his wife.
Livie described him. Blond, blue eyes. So different from Cooper with his dark hair and eyes. “He was tall, athletic, mid to late thirties.” What she didn’t say was that his thick hair curled at the nape of his neck, that his eyes were a deep blue that invited her into his confidence, that when he talked or sang, his voice was low and soft, making her think he’d known sorrow.
She’d felt close to him that night with the storm raging outside. It was as if the two of them were the only people left in the world, she thought with an inward shudder. A part of her had been attracted to the man. The admission rattled her to her core. She might never know what she did that night.
“Handsome, I take it?” Howard asked.
Livie merely nodded, aware of her fiancé watching her closely, reading more into her words than she wished. Cooper had his head cocked to the side in a way that told her he wasn’t just angry, he was hurting.
But neither of them could leave things as they were. They had to know who the man was and stop the blackmail, even if they could do nothing about the past.
“Was he one of your band members?” Even as she asked it, she wondered about the age difference.
Howard shook his head.
“That’s a pretty generic description,” Amelia said. “It could be anyone.”
“But it wasn’t just anyone,” Cooper said, his voice sounding cold and hard as the granite rock on the fireplace. “It’s someone who had access to your...cabin, probably that rig out front and your husband’s guitar and the stories that go with it, not to mention the hit song.”
Howard glanced over at his wife. A look passed between them. Livie could feel the increased tension in the room.
“Look, you have to know this man,” Cooper said, “since he knew his way around your house, where to find your good wine.” Howard winced at that. “And he appears to have made himself at home.”
“I can’t explain this,” the husband said in exasperation. “I have no idea who this man might have been.”
Amelia got up to refill her wineglass. “It’s obviously someone who’s been to one of your parties and heard your band stories you’re always telling, Howard.”
“Who has a key to your house?” Cooper asked. “He did open the door with a key, didn’t he?” he asked, and looked over at Livie.
She had never seen Cooper’s eyes so dark. He shifted in his chair with obvious impatience. She tried to remember that night, a night
