Untold Read online

  “I don’t work here full-time, so I’m only wise half of the time.” Finn might be a veterinarian for his day job, but he still liked to pull shifts at the bar every once in a while. Kept him close to his roots. “It’s my brother who is full-time wise.”

  “What do you need wisdom on?” Shep asked as he sidled up next to Finn, sliding a fresh mixed drink in front of Grace.

  Finn grabbed all of the empty glasses and headed over to the bin in the corner, placing them with all of the other dirty dishes before he turned around. His eyes caught on the front door as it opened and someone walked inside. The second he was fully able to take her in, his step faltered before he stopped moving and just looked at her.

  She had brown hair. Long, rich brown hair. It fell over her shoulders in soft, thick waves. The desire to sink his fingers into it came automatically; his palms itched to act on it, too. Instead he moved his focus to her face, taking in her golden brown skin, almond-shaped eyes, and a full mouth with the prettiest lips he’d ever seen.

  It was the last day of January and that night promised to be a chilly one, already dropping down to the low thirties. She wore a formfitting, black leather jacket. It was zipped up the front, and she rubbed her palms against her arms in an attempt to warm up. The blue jeans she wore were skin-tight, the dark denim wrapping around each and every one of her soft curves. From her hips, to her thighs, and on down. He wasn’t exactly sure how tall she was as she was wearing high-heeled boots—the black leather going up to about mid-calf—but if he had to guess he’d say she was probably five-feet-seven or so when she was barefoot.

  This woman wasn’t from Mirabelle. Finn would know if he’d seen her before, and he most definitely had not.

  She hesitated for only a moment before she looked to the bar and headed that way, the heels of her boots clipping against the hardwood floors. It was a Tuesday, so even though there was a good crowd, it wasn’t full. There were a number of empty spots at the bar, and the beautiful brunette headed for one a few seats away from Paige.

  As Shep was standing closer, it would’ve made the most sense for him to get her a drink, but Finn stepped in and blocked his brother as he took the space in front of her. Out of the corner of his eye he could just make out the raised eyebrow Shep gave him before moving off down to another patron at the bar.

  “What can I get you?” Finn asked.

  The woman’s gaze moved to his as she settled in her seat, and golden brown eyes focused on him. Seeing her up close, he realized she was tired. Not so much in a physical way, but more in an emotional way, and it was only in her eyes. But the weariness faded away when she looked at him. Her mouth fell open as she breathed in, and it stayed open for just a second, no words coming out.

  It was clear she was slightly taken aback by him. Well, she could just join the club, because she wasn’t the only one who was surprised by what—or more accurately who—was in front of them.

  She was stunning.

  “I-I’d like a beer. What do you guys have on tap?” Her eyes darted to the left and to the line of taps. There were a few brands on there, but what they served these days was mostly what the bar brewed.

  “What do you like?”

  “Something strong. Do you have a stout?” She had a very slight southern accent that was accompanied with just the right amount of husk. Sexy. Super sexy. The kind of voice he knew he’d really like whispering things into his ear, or moaning his name.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, grabbing one of the short glasses they used for tasters. He was more than slightly impressed that she requested a stout straight off the bat. “Here. This one has chocolate undertones,” he said as he slid the little glass in front of her. “It’s one of our own brews.”

  “Beer and chocolate?” she asked as she lifted it to her mouth. “That’s how you kill two birds with one stone.”

  Finn wasn’t going to lie, he was fascinated with the way her lips touched the glass. And he couldn’t stop watching as her eyes closed in satisfaction as she drank. Her eyelashes were just long enough that they rested on her skin when her eyes were closed. She also had the lightest dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And her cheeks were pink. He wondered if the coloring was from the cold outside.

  It was probably only a moment—just a handful of seconds—that she sat in front of him tasting that beer, but for him it could’ve been a lifetime that he watched her. And he wouldn’t stop watching her if he had any choice in the matter.

  When she opened her eyes he forgot himself. They were changing, becoming even more golden. It was the clink of the glass hitting the bar that brought him back to the moment.

  “That’s amazing. I would like one of those, please.”

  “Coming right up.” Finn grabbed a bigger glass and pulled down the lever, the rich brown liquid filling it up.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a genuine smile as he set it down in front of her.

  The woman’s smile was killer. Killer. “You visiting?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded before she took a sip of her beer and swallowed. “Just in town until Thursday.”

  Two nights. He could totally work with that. Though for a fleeting second he wished he had longer to work with. He pushed the thought away; it went against some of his rules. “Business or pleasure?”

  “Unwanted business. Unwanted, unpleasant business.”

  “Well, if you need it, you now know where to find good beer while you’re here. And if you need any other recommendations on what to drink, I’d be more than happy to be at your service.”

  “Is that so?” That smile of hers quirked to the side.

  “It is.” He grinned.

  “Well, how very chivalrous of you. So who is it exactly that is at my service?”

  The way she said service put so many other ideas in his head of just how he’d like to spend a few hours with her. He could show her some service all right. “Finn.”

  “Well, you’re very accommodating, Finn.” And there was that smile playing on her lips again. He wondered what they tasted like. The beer most likely, but what else?

  “We aim to please.”

  “Clearly.”

  “So who is it that I’m being so accommodating to?” He flipped the question she’d used to get his name.

  “Brie.” She stuck her hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it, their palms sliding across each other’s. Her hand was soft, still slightly cooled from the weather outside, and it fit perfectly in his.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Brie.” He didn’t want to let go, but he forced himself to. Mainly because it would be a little odd to hold hands with a stranger from across the bar.

  A roar of laughter filled the air, and Brie’s golden brown eyes left his, looking over to the people in the corner. “Someone is having a good time.”

  Finn glanced at the group before returning his focus to Brie. Her head was still turned, her long hair brushed back and over her shoulder so that he could clearly see her neck. He wondered what the hollow of her throat tasted like, and he wanted to trace the delicate silver chain of the necklace she wore with his fingertips.

  “They’re placing bets,” he told her.

  She looked back to him, her eyebrows raised high in question. “On what?”

  “Tomorrow’s funeral.”

  Something flickered in her eyes, something he thought looked a lot like unease as she set her glass on the bar and leaned forward. “They’re placing bets on a funeral?”

  “The woman in question wasn’t exactly…uh…popular with many people here in Mirabelle.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century,” Shep said as he came up on the other side of Finn.

  “Brie, this is my brother, Shep. Shep, this is Brie…she’s visiting Mirabelle for a couple of days.”

  “Shep…” she trailed off, her eyebrows scrunched together slightly as she studied him. “As in Shepherd?”

  “Indeed. Have we met before?” Shep’s eyes narrowed on Brie’s face.<
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  For just a second something hot and possessive burned deep in Finn’s stomach. Yes, Shep was more than taken when it came to his wife, and there was no chance in hell he’d ever do anything to mess that up. But before Shep had gotten married, he hadn’t exactly been celibate, and this might not have been Brie’s first time in town.

  “No, we haven’t met.” Brie shook her head. At her words Finn’s knot of tension eased up. “I’m staying at the Seaside Escape Inn.”

  Shep and Hannah owned a giant inn right on Mirabelle Beach. It was three stories tall, not including the giant ten-foot-tall pylons it stood on. They’d remodeled the whole thing, keeping the first floor for their house, while the second and third floors had been converted into six individual condos that they rented out.

  “Well, in that case your first beer is on the house.” Shep nodded to her glass on the counter.

  “It’s delicious, by the way,” she said as she reached for it, taking a sip.

  “Thank you.” Shep grinned. “Brewed it myself.”

  “Be careful how many compliments you give the guy.” Brendan looked down the bar to Brie. “He already has a big head.”

  “That’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black,” Jax said as he looked between his friends.

  Finn smiled. It wouldn’t be a typical time spent with Brendan, Shep, and Jax without a few insults getting thrown around. The guys had been best friends since they were five years old. Finn had looked at Brendan and Jax like they were his older brothers, and they’d always treated him like a little brother.

  “Guys, this is Brie. She’s renting a room at the inn.” Shep introduced her to the group. “Brie, meet Brendan, Paige, Grace, and Jax. So if you need a mechanic, an artist/photographer, a baker, or a deputy sheriff during your time spent in Mirabelle, you know who to talk to.”

  “Well hopefully the first and last on that list won’t be needed.” Grace smiled at Brie. “But if you need something to eat for breakfast or lunch, Café Lula is just down the road from here.”

  “Best coffee in town, too,” Jax added, making Grace’s grin grow.

  Everyone introduced themselves, saying “Hi” to Brie, and she returned the greetings. Another round of raucous laughter filled the bar. Brie glanced over to the group of people causing the commotion before she looked back to them.

  “Who was she? This lady who died.” She moved her beer to her lips, hiding her mouth with the glass as she took another sip.

  “Her name was Bethelda Grimshaw,” Finn answered.

  He thought he saw that unease flicker in her eyes again, but it disappeared a second later. Must’ve been a trick of the lights.

  “Why didn’t people like her?” She lowered the glass and set it on the bar.

  “Well, let me start by saying I don’t think what’s going on over there is OK.” Grace frowned, glancing to the corner before looking back to Brie. “Bethelda wasn’t exactly what you could ever call kind to me, but that over there is just perpetuating hate with hate.”

  “Agreed.” Paige nodded.

  “What did she do?”

  “She had this blog called The Grim Truth.” Brendan ran one of his fingers across the frosted glass of his mug. “And she liked to write about everyone’s dirty laundry.”

  “The dirtier the better,” Shep added.

  “Even if she was the one making it dirtier.” This from Jax, who took a sip of beer after he said it.

  “She sounds delightful.” Brie didn’t hide an ounce of sarcasm in her words.

  “Yeah.” Paige tipped her head to the side. “The woman thrived on creating misery, and though I’d say a lot of the people in this bar were touched by that meanness—all of us included in that group—not everyone is celebrating her death.”

  “It just means you all are better people than she was.” Brie’s voice had gone very small as she spoke. She looked away from all of them, lifting her beer to her mouth and taking a long drink of it.

  * * *

  Bethelda Grimshaw was dead.

  That sentence should’ve had more meaning to Brie Davis. It should’ve made her sad. It should’ve done a lot of things.

  It should’ve, but it didn’t.

  Bethelda was a stranger. A stranger who’d given her daughter up for adoption twenty-eight years ago.

  Brie had been eighteen when she found out who her mother was. Well, who her biological mother was. Because Brie’s mother was Anastasia “Ana” Davis, the woman who—along with Brie’s father, Marcus Davis—had adopted her when she was two days old. Those were her parents. The people who had raised her. The people who had taken care of her. The people who loved her.

  This little venture into Mirabelle wasn’t Brie’s first time. She’d come down ten years ago, right after she’d found out who Bethelda was. It was something she’d been beyond intimidated about, and as it turned out, she was right to have been.

  At the time, Brie hadn’t told her parents about the search. Though they did know about it now. Her not telling them hadn’t been because they wouldn’t have been supportive, because they would have. No, she didn’t tell them because she’d wanted to do it on her own.

  Bethelda’s name had been the only one Brie had gotten in her search. Her biological father hadn’t been documented on anything. She’d thought she might be able to find out who he was from the meeting with Bethelda.

  She’d thought wrong.

  Looking back, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d been hoping for when she met Bethelda. Happiness at being reunited? A bittersweet moment filled with the time lost but hopeful for the relationship they could have? Tears of joy?

  Yeah, none of those things had happened. To say that Bethelda had been less than thrilled to see Brie would be a huge understatement. She’d been vicious. Told Brie she wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

  The whole encounter was probably a total of two minutes. That was all the time Brie had gotten of Bethelda. It had been the most painful, miserable moments of her life. She’d never felt more unwanted.

  Yeah, there weren’t any tears of joy, but Brie sure had cried. She’d driven to the closest gas station and sat in her car for an hour, sobbing like an idiot. Those were the last tears she’d cried for Bethelda, and she’d vowed the woman wouldn’t get any more from her.

  Brie hadn’t broken that vow, either. Not even when she’d gotten the phone call from Bethelda’s lawyer five days ago. There hadn’t been any tears shed when she’d found out that her biological mother had passed away.

  It was a brain aneurysm that had done it. Bethelda was driving back from the store when it happened. Her car had veered off the road and hit a tree. She’d been dead before the crash. The first thought Brie had at the information was that she was thankful Bethelda hadn’t taken anyone else out with her. The lawyer had kept talking, trying to sound sympathetic for Brie’s loss.

  Yeah, he must not have known the woman very well.

  She didn’t understand why she was getting that particular phone call until he got to the crux of the conversation. Imagine her surprise when she found out her name was in Bethelda’s will.

  Brie’s first thought on that? She didn’t give a flying fuck what the woman had left to her. It could be burned for all she cared. There wasn’t a single thing she wanted.

  At least, that was what she told herself for the next few days. But that very morning Brie had woken up and she knew that wasn’t true.

  Maybe it was because she’d been given up for adoption that she was so obsessed with history. She hadn’t known her own, so she wanted to know everybody else’s. It was always her favorite subject. All through grade school and college, so much so that she’d gone on and gotten her master’s. Now she was working on her PhD at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

  She’d finished her years of course work and was now working on her dissertation. The focus? Post–World War II America. She was fascinated with how the country, and its people, where changed by such a significant event.
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  She’d settled into her life in Chapel Hill, found the balance between teaching and research. Though, she wasn’t teaching that semester, taking the time to focus more heavily on her dissertation. Well, that had been the plan before that phone call.

  So yeah, she had a thing for history, and this was an opportunity for her to learn some of her own. It was the only reason she was in Mirabelle. The drive there hadn’t been the easiest thing. In the eleven hours it had taken her to get down there, she’d told herself to turn around a dozen times. What if that history she was going to discover was something she didn’t want to know?

  Now one night in town, she knew without a doubt there was going to be a whole hell of a lot of history she didn’t want to know. Bethelda was so much worse than what she already knew—two beers and an hour at the Sleepy Sheep had confirmed that.

  There was so much hatred. Soooo much hatred.

  The hard part wasn’t that it sucked seeing how much people hated the woman. No, the hard part was knowing that she came from the woman whom people hated.

  She’d liked the people she met at the bar that night. Shep, Paige and Brendan, Grace and Jax…and Finn. God, she’d really liked Finn. She could stare into that man’s sapphire-blue eyes for days. He’d had a good amount of five-o’clock shadow dusting his jaw, and the desire to know what it would feel like beneath her palm had burned her brain every time she’d looked at him.

  He was all sorts of sexy, from his southern accent to the way his smile made his eyes even bluer. And his glasses that framed those eyes? Good Lord, she’d never known how glasses could make a man sexier until she’d met him.

  When she’d looked into his face for the first time, she’d forgotten about Bethelda. It had been the first time her mind had been blissfully clear since she’d gotten that freaking phone call five days ago.

  Once he found out who she was, he wasn’t going to want a single thing to do with her. None of them would. She didn’t blame them, either. How could she? She shared the same DNA as the woman who’d caused all of them so much misery.