Crystal Green – Courted by the Texas Millionaire (страница 2)

“What’s so surprising?” he asked.

“Everything. I never thought that you would take over the Recorder. I mean, you were in journalism class because it was the only elective open on the schedule senior year.”

“I only wanted enough academic credits to graduate.”

“But you got good at reporting, Davis.”

He fought the urge to close his eyes, to let himself be that high school kid who would’ve allowed the sound of her speaking his name wash through him.

But he’d learned to keep his eyes wide open. Senior year, when he’d joined Violet’s paper—she’d been the territorial editor—he’d only meant to slide through just another class with some smooth talk to the teacher and a minimum amount of work. But he’d found out that he was pretty good at investigating—and he’d found Violet, too.

They’d butted heads over everything—the opinionated kid from the east side of town versus the feisty girl from the west side. But he hadn’t argued with her just because of his stances on the issues—he’d enjoyed seeing the fire in her eyes. It had made him feel more alive than he had ever felt before with anyone.

Then, one night, they’d stayed late, getting an edition of the Rebel Rouser to press.

And it’d happened.

Davis hadn’t planned to kiss her. But she’d been so close to him, smelling like cherries, the warmth from her bare arms heating his skin, and he’d leaned over, feeling the hitch of her breath below his lips just before he’d pressed his mouth to hers.

Something had exploded between them that night, and up until graduation, they had met without anyone knowing about their relationship.

No one knew that they’d fallen in love.

At least, he’d thought no one had known—until his mother had confronted Violet.

He watched Violet walk toward that framed photo of Tony Amati on the wall.

“I thought for sure,” she said, “that you were going to take over that mine one day.”

She didn’t mention it with the spite other people used in St. Valentine—the accusation reminding him of what part he’d had in the mine’s shutdown. No, Davis noticed an appreciation in her expression.

Something wistful.

“Dad said you restored and reclaimed it,” she added.

“That was the least I could do for the town …” He didn’t finish, but it hung there in the air.

After I brought down the mine and the economy with a few newspaper stories.

He sat on the corner of his desk, watching Violet as she ran a hand over an antique Remington typewriter he’d bought on a whim, just because he could afford to.

Funny, how he was dying to let her know that he had enough to make a thousand men happy, thanks to the trust fund he’d padded with sound investments. Funny, how he wanted her to see that he’d done just fine without her after she’d left him that summer.

But that was the past speaking. Couldn’t he let bygones be bygones? The damage hadn’t lasted for very long. He’d forgotten her with other girls. Other women.

“Staying long?” he asked.

“Just enough time to beef up my bank account.” She shrugged. “And here I thought I’d have a Pulitzer by the time I was thirty-three.”

She blew out a breath, as if thinking of the dream job she’d had. Maybe she’d even lived in a condo like the sleek chrome and high-windowed place he’d had in Chicago, during his first real-life job. He’d traveled across the U.S. for a while after graduating, just to get away from his mom. Then, at the urging of Wiley Scott, who had owned the town paper, he’d gotten into Northwestern. Soon after college, he’d landed the St. Valentine kaolin mine story and returned home permanently to make up for the devastation. And he’d been doing that ever since, as if he had something to prove to the town.

Or maybe to a girl who’d seemed to believe, even for a moment, that Davis Jackson could never be more than a rich, careless playboy.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “The newspaper industry is a mess right now, so you can’t take being laid off personally.”

“Right,” she said, obviously putting on a happy face for both of their benefits. “I know you’re right.”

When she looked at him again, she’d somehow managed to retrieve that confidence that had always defined Violet Osborne, a girl whose dreams had been too big for a town like St. Valentine. And to have to come back to a place she’d worked so hard to get out of …?

From the rear of the office, Davis heard the door opening, letting in the sound of laughter from the guests he was supposed to be hosting. Then it closed.

Violet heard it, too. “I should let you go.”

But he didn’t want that. Dammit, just seeing her again …

It brought back so much. It made him want to know if she saw the changes in him.

She offered one last, tentative smile, then moved toward the door. The sway of her hips under her pants caught Davis’s eye before he forced his gaze away.

She spoke over her shoulder, hand on the doorknob. “I just wanted to congratulate you—all the things you’re doing and have done for St. Valentine. All the things you’ve accomplished. Even my dad’s been saying good things about that.”

“Your dad complimented me?”

“I wouldn’t call it complimenting, exactly. More like he was sticking up for you. He got into it with a few ex-miners once, and he pointed out that you didn’t bring on that safety investigation—it was him and a few others who opened their mouths when your mother ignored their concerns after the accident.”

Davis only wished that everyone in town felt the way her dad had, even if he knew the man had never liked him much, with Davis being the privileged Jackson whose family owned the mine.

And when his exposé forced a closure … Well, that left every miner but the whistleblowing ones against him. Especially the younger guys who’d been hired away by his mother to work the family’s natural gas operation near Houston. It was as if they didn’t realize that Davis’s mom had primarily hired them on merely as an apology for what had gone down at the mine.

How anyone could’ve forgiven her was a mystery to Davis. After all, back when his father had owned the mine, safety had been the highest concern. His mom hadn’t agreed. After his death, she’d become a big fan of money—or what she saw as security—first and foremost.

Back then, Davis had just purchased the Recorder, and he’d published articles about the mine based on his interviews with the whistleblowers, even though that hadn’t kept one worker from nearly dying after he’d been buried in a trench while installing a drainpipe.

Then Davis had stepped up his investigation, and many folks had blamed him for the Mine Safety and Health Administration coming in. The federal organization cited inadequate procedures throughout the mine, and his mom had decided to shut down under the pressure, offering natural gas jobs out by Houston instead.

After that, the west side of St. Valentine had felt like a ghost town. And, to Davis, it’d felt doubly so with his mom. She’d accused him of writing that exposé because of a rebelliousness that had started when he’d blamed her for getting Violet to leave.

Maybe he had been driven by a need to show his mom that she couldn’t control him, as well as a true sense of doing right for the town he’d loved enough to come back to in the end.

Violet dared to wander nearer to him, to lay a hand on his arm. The heat of her touch seared his skin.

Did she feel it?

He pulled away, cursing himself for caring.

She didn’t move, and for an instant, he thought this might be the prelude to them finally saying something meaningful.

But he could see the thoughts turning in her mind. She already had everything planned out: get back on her feet with the waitressing gig, leave the town that had always looked down on her for being uppity the minute she could afford to.

The back door opened again, footsteps on the wooden planked floor …

Davis stood from the desk as Mayor Neeson and his daughter, Jennifer—a dark-haired flirt in a red dress who grinned at Davis—came into the room. She was delicately holding the stem of a champagne glass in one hand while eyeing Violet, who eyed her right back.

“Coming out for dessert anytime soon?” the mayor asked Davis, ignoring Violet altogether.

His hackles rose, just as they’d always done when he’d seen the rich kids at school dismiss Violet and her ambitions so carelessly.

Why now, though?

“Ray,” Davis said, “you remember Violet Osborne?”

The mayor merely nodded to her. Jennifer instead focused on Davis as if Violet didn’t even exist.

He’d had a few good times with Jennifer, and that must’ve given her the idea that he would be on her side. But he wouldn’t let himself be that petty.

When Jennifer saw that she was alone in this, she shot a bored glance to Violet. “This is the last place I ever expected to see you again.”

Violet didn’t say a word. Instead, her shoulders stiffened.

“What brought you back?” Jennifer asked. “Did the bright, shiny world eat you up then spit you back out here?”

Davis was too busy feeling the punch of those words to notice Violet’s immediate reaction.

“Jennifer…,” he said.

He heard Violet mutter an “It was good to see you, Davis,” just before she turned and walked out of his office, dignified, seemingly in no hurry, although he could bet she only wanted to run.