504 Lovers Ridge: A Cherry Falls Romance Book 18 Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Rights

  Alerts

  Description

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Epilogue

  New Releases

  Further Reading

  The Author

  504

  LOVERS RIDGE

  (A Cherry Falls Romance #18)

  ADRIANE LEIGH

  Copyright © 2021 BY ADRIANE LEIGH

  Editing by N. Haydon.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced without express permission by the author unless it is for a book review. All scenarios and characters are fictional and any resemblance to real people or situations is coincidental.

  Sign up for new release alerts from Adriane here.

  Alone in the woods, I've made a good life for myself. Living off-grid and being self-reliant has given me everything I could want. I’ve long-buried the emotions from my gritty past, covered the devastating scars, and pushed the haunted memories away until only a robot remained. And then Poppy O’Henry ruined everything.

  The moment the growly, ill-mannered mountain man stepped through the doors of my flower shop, my day went from bad to worse. Arrogant and intimidating, his body is barbaric with a vicious cut to his jaw that sends quakes of fear through my veins. Maverick Wright is raw power wrapped in a cocky attitude with an even bigger ego.

  Tangling with him promises to leave me broken and bruised, the ghosts that haunt his past reveal the unspeakable pain he’s suffered—is still suffering—but there’s more to his abrasive demeanor than meets the eye. A warmth that he reveals only to me. But how can forever be in the cards for us when the man that’s captivated my heart is also my father’s oldest sworn enemy?

  PROLOGUE

  Obsession.

  The domination of one’s thoughts or ideas or feelings with a persistent image, idea, or desire.

  I stood in front of the chair, throwing the old record of violin concertos across the room. It crashed into a table and toppled our wedding photo. I huffed when it fell face down on the floor.

  “I know you’re here. Watching.”

  I narrowed my eyes on the doorway that usually remained locked. It creaked softly in the wind now, the loose jamb clicking in the breeze before a crack of moonlight shone through. Winchester barked once, eyes on the door along with me.

  “A lot of people talk about my obsession, but what about yours?” I glanced down at Winchester. His eyes flicked to me and he wagged his tail once. “I should throw out these old recordings, they only dredge up old ghosts that are better off buried.”

  The wind slammed the door to the music room closed, almost in answer to my statement.

  I climbed the stairs, annoyance heavying my bootsteps before I reached the door to the music room and yanked the key out of my pocket. I locked it once, checked it twice and then turned to find Winchester pointing at the small violin mounted on the wall.

  Her violin.

  “Winchester, leave it.” I patted his head but he remained still, eyes intent on the instrument. “Not tonight, please.”

  Winchester barked once, then lay down, nose still pointed in the same direction. He did this most nights, especially in the fall and spring when the lightning storms kicked up outside. I thought he was crazy at first, but then I began to feel it too. Some kind of kinetic energy in the air that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

  “Stay then, I’ll be downstairs with dinner.”

  I climbed back down the steps. Before I reached the bottom, the slow strains of violin music started again. The note stirred in my ears most nights, but the nights it stormed made the tone exponentially loud. Like a low grade hum turned to a sharpened pitch, I began to wonder if it was more than just the isolation that drove a person mad up in these mountains.

  Winchester hummed once, then began to bark softly as the violin notes reached deafening tones. I turned, stomped up the stairs the way I’d come. The violin sat on the floor, upended from the wall and at Winchester’s feet.

  He looked concerned, his big worried eyes holding mine.

  “I can feel you,” I grit into the air. “I can feel you everywhere! Why can’t I touch you? Why won’t you let me?” I picked up the violin, smashing it against the wall in a fit of anger.

  It splintered against the wall and I regretted it instantly.

  Her prized possession, the very thing that’d come to possess me.

  Emotion boiled to a fever pitch inside of me before I scooped the wooden pieces and strings into my hands and stomped down the stairs. Winchester followed hot on my heels.

  Into the cloudy mist we charged out, around the feathery evergreen boughs that hung over the driveway, down the corner and to the overlook. From this vantage point I could see all of the bay, the marina of Cherry Falls lit with bustling life even in the middle of the night.

  I groaned, wondering if my obsession had ruined me. Wetness slid down my cheeks before I launched the broken pieces over the cliff.

  But the shattered fragments of my haunted memories remained.

  I turned to head back to the house, Winchester trotting ahead of me, before we both stopped dead in our tracks.

  Clinging at the edges of the evergreens, almost floating out of the mist, a figure appeared.

  “Mav.”

  I shook my head, shoved a hand over my face and tried to rub away the vision of her in my mind. Words pounded through my skull, desperate words like duty and loyalty and honor and legacy and death. There’d been so much death.

  You can’t ignore this forever. You can’t ignore this forever. You can’t ignore this forever chanted on repeat in my mind, like the chorus to a bad pop song.

  “It’s my fault you're dead!” I called into the wilderness. “It’s my fault you're dead...” I repeated as I dropped to my knees, rocks biting at my skin through the worn denim. “I’ll always be your murderer.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Maverick

  “Maverick Wright, you grouchy bastard, how many times do I gotta tell you to stay as far away from me—”

  “Oh, shut up, O'Henry,” I grit.

  “That's Captain O'Henry to you. Why is my day always better when you stay up at the top of that damn ridge of yours?”

  I snarled. “You and me both, asshole.”

  “What's that, Wright?” There was an angry challenge in his eye, just the kind of trouble I liked.

  “You heard me. You should try removing the badge from your ass once in a while, maybe you'd find yourself with a few more buddies for Friday night beers.”

  “I've got all the buddies I need.” The Captain of the Cherry Falls Police Department puffed out his chest.

  I laughed.

  “You haven't changed since we were kids, O'Henry. Still trying to make up for that short stature with fake brawn, arrogance, and ignorance.”

  I could see the Captain's fists shaking, a small crowd of Cherry Falls' finest citizens gathering around us. “What are you doin' here, Maverick?”

  “I'm here for the ribs,” I grinned, wedging myself under his skin like a bloody thorn. “What're you doin' here?”

  Captain Connor O'Henry only sighed, exasperation written in the weary lines of his weathered face. “It's my job, Maverick. I'm assigned to b
e at the town picnic to keep troublemakers at bay.”

  I arched one eyebrow, grinning as I thought of the time I'd fucked with him his very first day on the force for Cherry Falls, fourteen years ago. I remembered it to the day. “Swear I won't throw firecrackers in your patrol car like I did that first Summerfest picnic...”

  The normally-unshakable Captain's eyebrow twitched. “Don't remind me. You still owe me for the damages they took out of my first paycheck, asshole.”

  “You know I don't deal in your bullshit paper currency, Captain.”

  He shook his head. “Some people. I still can't for the life of me figure out how things worked out like they did all those years ago. Took the wind out of my lungs then, and you're still doing it now.”

  “Doin' my best to rattle Cherry Falls' finest.”

  “You're an epic asshole, Wright. And it's not for the first time I've thought you ruined the only good that God ever tried to give you.” He didn't need to say anymore, my vision had already steeped blood-red.

  “You don't know what the fuck you're talking about.”

  “It's a wonder you even bother comin' off that ridge at all.”

  “Fuck you, officer asshat.”

  The Captain shook his head, fingers twitching. “Don't make me cite you for verbally abusing an officer.”

  “Abuse?” I laughed so loud a few older women shook their heads and turned away. “That's just the tip of the iceberg. Far as I'm concerned, you conned your way into that position in the first place, knowing the right people is all that matters in this town—nepotism is unethical, officer. You may want to turn this investigation internal.”

  “What are you sayin' here? You know I pride myself on the good moral standing I have with the folks in this community—”

  “Ah, horse shit. You've sounded like a politician since we were kids. Your dad pawned you off on the department because he knew there was no other option for you.”

  “Wright, you filthy son of—”

  But before he could finish his sentence I decked him, square in the chin. I'd like to say I don't know what came over me, but it was plain and simple.

  While most of the people in this town respected Captain Connor O'Henry, I hated him. He was a no-good, morally bankrupt asshole that wasn't worth the ground I walked on. Ask me why and I could tell you a thousand reasons, and he knows every one of them.

  “Mav—” The Captain cupped his jaw, shock crossing his face. “You've done it now.”

  Just when I thought he was going to wrangle me into handcuffs and try his darndest to haul me off in the back of his cop car—it wouldn't be the first time—he did the opposite and whipped me so hard with the backside of his palm he split my lip and sent a spray of blood on both of us.

  “That's it.” I cocked my arm, ready to land another hook to his chin, when a shriek split my eardrums.

  “Are you two at it again?” A small fist clutched my wrist and yanked. Instead of dragging my bicep out of position, she only grunted and kept yanking harder.

  I laughed, shaking her off. “Mind your own.”

  “I am!” she yelled again. “Please go help at the hot dog station, she's got a line around the baseball diamond and you two fools—”

  I finally lowered my arm, nailing her with a hardened gaze. I traced the soft angles of her young face, cherubic cheeks a soft shade of pink and eyes dark and full of conflicting emotions.

  “You're bleeding.” She shook her head. “Come with me, I'll get you cleaned up.” She locked her hand around my wrist and hauled me off in the opposite direction to the Captain, who was already making his way to the sizzling wieners.

  “Who are you?” I shook my hand out of her grasp, forcing both of us to stop on the sidewalk.

  “That's great. I go away to college for four years and this is the welcome home I get?”

  “College—no good indoctrination scam—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She pushed through the doors of a tiny shop, filled to the brim with flowers. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, leave your politics at the door, thank you.”

  I scrunched my forehead. “What's that smell?”

  She arched her eyebrow back at me. “You mean...the flowers?”

  I paused, inhaling again as I registered the thousands of different smells. “It's a lot of color in here.”

  “So.” She dotted a tissue at my lip, the bright-red blood already clotting. “I take it you're not a chocolate and flowers kind of guy.”

  “Don't see the point of them. But I guess while I'm here...” My eyes crawled around the space, hovering an extra beat on the soft ringlets of her almost ink-black hair. It spread on her shoulders in waves and was so shiny it reflected off the tiny sparkling decorations that hung from the ceiling.

  I slammed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply, feeling my heart gallop uncontrollably in my chest. I steadied myself on the counter, thinking how all this sunshine and fucking happiness felt stifling on my senses.

  “Are you okay?”

  I cleared my throat. “I'm just used to the fresh air up on the ridge.”

  “You live on the ridge?” Her voice turned up a beat.

  “Yeah—you know it?”

  “Know it? My dad used to take me camping up there when I was a kid. He told me about the legend of a Native American woman whose lover died in battle, so in despair, she threw herself off of the ridge and into the bay below. Now, during the full moon or during a thunderstorm, she haunts the cliff edge, warning people of the dangers of love forevermore.”

  “Sounds dramatic.” I cut her off.

  She frowned. “I think it's romantic.”

  “If you're into shit like ghost stories, I s'pose it would be.”

  She didn't reply, only huffed softly before ducking behind the flower shop counter. She rummaged in a drawer and I took the time to glance around the walls of the shop. It was covered in bright-yellow sunflowers and over-priced gardening junk, but I had to admit, the place was cute as far as places go.

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “I opened the shop just this year, I'm the owner.”

  I assessed the full flush of freckles that dotted her nose, only visible up close and under the bright fluorescent lights. I cleared my throat, hating how much being in a woman's presence rattled me. The kind of feelings people brought up inside of me made me damn glad I spent most of my days hiding out on the top of my ridge. Haunted or not, it was a helluva lot better than life down here in the city.

  “Well, you've got a nice place here. Congratulations.”

  “Uh, thanks.” She popped back up, bandage in hand. “You want it?”

  “For what?” I ran the pad of my thumb across my bottom lip, feeling for the bruise that I was sure would be there in the morning. “This ain't anything to worry about. All in a day's fun.”

  “Fun?” She shook her head. “Not sure what kinda fun you're used to, but I guess to each his own.”

  “Well, what would you call fun?” I rested a hand on the counter, leaning a little closer to her before catching myself. I backed away, realizing how dangerously good she smelled. I'd been choked by the sweet-smelling roses and carnations when I'd walked in, but she...she was wildflowers and mountain honeysuckle. I craved more of her but didn't dare.

  “At this stage,” she glanced around the shop, “I'd say a big customer with a recurring order would be delightful.”

  “Business that bad, huh?”

  “No.” She squared her shoulders, eyes hovering on mine. “It's just...rental spaces in downtown Cherry Falls aren't exactly cheap.”

  “Well, the alternative is Syn City.”

  “Oh, I couldn't live there. I like open spaces, all that concrete and steel makes me claustrophobic.”

  I gulped. “You and me both.”

  She pressed her lips together, straightening her back and taking a few small breaths before she seemed to catch herself and glanced down at her feet. “Guess opposites can agree on some things after all.”
r />   “Opposites, huh?” I leaned in again, this time close enough to invade her space. Instead of leaning away from me like I expected though, she cocked her head to the side, and eyes twinkling, said: “Can I take your flower order, Sir?”

  I swallowed the laugh and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I'll take one of every flower you've got in this place, once a week for the next year.”

  “Excuse me?” Disbelief shook her otherwise soft features.

  “You heard me.” I pushed the small order tablet into her hands. “One of everything.”

  “B-but, where would I deliver that many flowers to?”

  “My house.”

  “Your house?”

  I nodded in confirmation.

  “But...usually an order that big would go to a restaurant or a place of business or—”

  “My home is my place of business.”

  “Oh.” Her lips twitched as she began to doodle on the lines of the order form.

  “Go on, write down: one of everything.”

  “I know how to do my job,” she spit, obviously rattled.

  I chuckled out loud this time. “Little Miss Flower Patch. Precious as a petal when she's annoyed.”

  “I'm not annoyed,” she uttered defensively. “I just don't need to be told what to write down—I'll remember just fine.”

  “What about my address? You need to know where to deliver them tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” She swallowed, finally moving away from the counter, picking up a pair of shears and trailing her long, pink-painted fingertips down the stem of a thorned rose. “I'll have to check my schedule.”

  “You just said you wouldn't forget—”

  “Right, well, if you're serious about your order, then that makes you my biggest customer.”

  “Good. I want to be your best.”

  “What?” Her eyes swung to mine.

  “Your best customer. I want to be your best. We'll start with one of everything, but I may want to change up my order next week—I'll need you to be hands on with what's in season. I only want the best—understand me?”