Free The Smoky Mountain Mist by Paula Graves Page B

grimace. He managed something in between, his lips curving in a wry grin. “No, ma’am. It’s not.”
    “Did you deserve them?”
    That time, he did laugh. “Some of the time.”
    “Why did you choose the life you did?”
    He wandered back over to the sofa, thinking about how to answer. When he’d been younger, he might have told her he didn’t choose to become a con man. That life had chosen for him. He’d spent a lot of time blaming everyone in the world but himself for his troubles.
    But everyone had choices, even people who didn’t think they did. Delilah’s childhood had been the same as his, but she’d chosen a different path, one that had made her a hero, not a criminal. He could have chosen such a path if he hadn’t let hate and anger do him in.
    That had been his choice. Nothing that happened before excused it.
    “When I was young,” he said finally, sitting on the sofa across from her, “I had a choice between two paths. One looked hard. The other looked easy. I chose easy.”
    A little furrow formed in her brow as she considered his words. “That simple?”
    He nodded. “That simple. I was angry and tired of struggling. I was eaten up with envy and mad at the whole damned world. So when a man offered me a chance to get everything I wanted and stick it to people who stood in my way, I took it. I reckon you could even say I relished it. I was good at it, and in a twisted way, I think it gave me a sense of self-worth I’d never had before.”
    “So why aren’t you still doing it?”
    “Because nothing good, nothing real, gets built on lies.”
    Her solemn blue eyes held his gaze thoughtfully. “Or you could be lying to me now. Maybe this act of repentance is all for show.”
    “I guess that’s for you to figure out.”
    She buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’m so tired.”
    He knew she wasn’t just talking about physical tiredness. The past few months must have been hell on her emotionally, losing so many people who mattered to her, including her own father. “Why don’t you go lie down? Take a nap.”
    “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember?”
    “I’m fine. Really. The ol’ noggin’s not even hurting anymore.” Well, not more than a slight ache, he amended silently. And it was mostly at the site at the back of his head where he’d taken the knockout blow.
    After a long, thoughtful pause, she rose to her feet with easy grace. He wondered idly if she’d taken ballet lessons as a child. She had the long limbs and elegant lines of a dancer.
    Delilah had always wanted to take dance lessons, he remembered. He wondered if his sister had made up for lost time once she’d gotten away from Smoky Ridge. He’d have to remember to ask her.
    “There’s food in the fridge if you get hungry.” She waved her arm toward the cases full of books that lined the walls of the den. “Lots to read, if your head’s up to it. There’s a television and a sound system in that cabinet if you’d rather watch TV or listen to music.”
    “In other words, make myself at home?”
    Her lips quirked. “I’m not sure it’s safe to give you that much rope.”
    He grinned back at her, unoffended. “Smart girl.”
    She headed for the stairs, but not before Seth saw her smile widen with pleasure.
    * * *
    R ACHEL HADN ’ T PLANNED to take a nap. She had felt tired but not particularly sleepy when she’d climbed the stairs to her room on the second floor, but the whisper of rain against the windows and the long and stressful day colluded to lull her to sleep within minutes of settling on the chaise lounge in the corner of her bedroom.
    When she next opened her eyes, the gloom outside had gone from gray to inky black, and the room was cold enough to give her a chill. She rose from the chaise, stretching her stiffened muscles, and started toward the bathroom when she heard it.
    Music.
    Seth must have taken her at her word and turned on the stereo