Dancing with the Devil: North Hills, #1

By Alison Post

An enemies-to-lovers small town romance...

 

After leaving her dangerous husband, Elizabeth Porter decides to move back home. She immediately begins to rekindle her relationships with her parents and her best friend. But when she begins to get harassing messages from her husband, she has no one to turn to but her old rival. The one man she hates almost as much as her husband. Nick Wilder.

 

Nick Wilder hasn't given Elizabeth Porter one moment of his attention in the last ten years since he last saw her, but when she comes back to town, she begins to infiltrate every single one of his thoughts. When he finds himself in a position where he's the only one there to protect her, he must put all of their history aside in order to be there for her.

 

As these two end up spending all of their time together, will new feelings begin to arise or will they take each other down in the process?

 

Trigger Warning: This book does touch on an emotionally (bordering on physically) abusive marriage between the main character and her ex. There are only two times that it happens presently and the rest is either from memories or her talking about it. I understand that this can be a hard subject for some to read so there is no offense if you won't (or can't) read my novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alison Post
• Release date: Mar 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215600351

Book preview

Chapter 1

ELIZABETH

As I was driving into North Hills, Montana for the first time in five years, I couldn’t help but realize how much of my childhood I’d taken for granted. I could remember how frustrating it got to live in a small town where everyone seemed to know everyone; the predictability killed me. Everyone knew what everyone else was doing, because they all did the same thing every day.

After everything I’d been through in the years since leaving this town, for what was supposed to be the adventure of my life, I would give anything for this kind of predictability again.

While driving through my hometown, passing the town clinic where I’d spent a lot of my childhood in my father’s office, my phone began to ring through my car’s Bluetooth speaker.  All it took was just a quick glance at the screen for me to close my eyes in defeat.

Since I left my house—my old house, he had called me every ten minutes. I’d been driving around shamefully, too afraid to turn toward my hometown. Just a little earlier, I’d taken a deep breath and made the turn, knowing in my gut that I needed to be here. I hadn’t felt like I could answer his call before, but now... there was something about being surrounded by the childhood environment that gave me the strength to hit the accept button on my steering wheel.

Hello? My shaky voice answered.

’Bout damn time you answered, Jon’s rough voice responded. Care to explain why I came home from work today and found your rings on the kitchen table with this poor excuse of a note?

I had to swallow past my unease; he couldn’t touch me here. We were miles apart.

I said everything that needed to be said in that note. I stood over that piece of paper ever since I had woken up that morning; it took me two hours to put my feelings into words that he would hopefully understand. Of course, he would just brush those off.

I think you’ve forgotten who really controls this marriage. I could picture him speaking through his teeth as his anger threatened to take over. "You don’t leave me. If you think you can just run away like a little baby, then think again because I will find you."

I could feel tears pricking my eyes as I slowly drove through the safe streets of my childhood. Jon, please just let me go.

That will never happen, but if you need space to get over your little tantrum, then be my guest. The car was silent as I waited with bated breath for him to continue, "But, if you’re not back in exactly one month, I’m coming to find you and I know you don’t want that," he threatened slowly.

My hands were shaking against the steering wheel. I had to take a deep breath and focus on the road in front of me instead of the man on the other end of the phone call.

There was nothing else I could say to him to make him see I would not be back in a month.

Goodbye, Jon.

Beth— My fingers were on the red button, cutting off whatever he was going to say next before he could utter more than my name.

I had to admit, that conversation went a lot better than I thought. It surprised me he had actually given me a month, but I knew that wouldn’t stop him from calling me to show that he was still in control.

And there was no doubt in my mind that he could find me before this month was up.

It killed me to say, but he was an amazing reporter. It wouldn’t take much for him to realize where I was and even less time for him to come get me. I had to figure out a way to get him out of my life for good, but while I was busy thinking about that, my family and close friends could surround me. Even if he found me, there was no way that he could touch me here.

AS I FOCUSED ON MY surroundings, it didn’t surprise me how little the town had changed in the time I’d been gone. There were a few new shops on Main Street, but otherwise, everything was exactly the same.

The police station still sat directly next to the fire station. The elementary school where I’d shared hundreds of memories, most with my closest friend Mackenna, was just around the corner. The town’s park that I’d gone to, at least a thousand times or more, still had the wooden castle that Mackenna and I practically lived in every summer.  

As I continued to drive down the streets that I could still navigate in my sleep, I felt all the tension leaking out of my shoulders. By the time I was pulling up to my parents’ house, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in six years—since Jon came into my life.

Here goes nothing, I whispered.

Throughout our relationship, Jon slowly forced me to cut my parents out of my life. It broke my heart knowing that I hadn’t talked to them in almost a year. I vowed to myself to never let someone else dictate who I spoke to again.

Since it was a little after five, I knew that both of my parents would have just gotten home from their respective jobs—my mother was the postmaster general at the post office and my father was one of the town’s doctors.

As I was walking up the familiar pathway to the front door, my eyes took in the house that I’d lived in for eighteen years.

It was a beautiful split-level house painted the same color gray since my parents had purchased it almost 30 years before. I paused after walking up the three steps that led to the front door.

I had never felt such uncertainty before stepping into my childhood home before. Did I knock or just walk in?

Part of me wished I had called them to let them know I was coming home, but I was too worried that I would chicken out and stay with Jon. I didn’t want to get their hopes up just to dash them.

I rapped my knuckles against the white door, holding my breath for the few seconds it took to hear movement behind it.

When I saw my mom on the other side of the entryway, I felt like someone had knocked my breath out of my chest.

Five years without seeing her and it was almost like no time had passed while at the same time, I could see the changes that painted her face. The changes that I hadn’t been around to see.

I had been told so often, growing up, that I was the spitting image of my mother. Our hair was the same soft auburn, our eyes the same chocolate brown, and we stood at the same 5’2". It’s as if I was looking at my future self.

Lizzie? my mom breathed, almost like she thought she was seeing a ghost.

Hearing my childhood nickname brought tears to my eyes. Jon had insisted on calling me Beth; I don’t think anyone had called me Lizzie since the last time I’d talked to my parents.

Hi, Mom, I whispered.

Oh, my God, Lizzie, she repeated. She didn’t waste another second before throwing her arms around my neck, holding me close as we both cried onto each other’s shoulders.

Jo, honey, who’s at the door? I could hear my father ask from the kitchen.

My mother sniffled, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve before calling out for my father. Ted, come here! She spoke at a normal volume as she turned her attention back to me. Come in, come in.

I didn’t make it more than a few steps inside before I saw my father pause in disbelief at the top of the stairs.

Lizzie, is that you?

It’s me, Dad, I whispered.

He tripped over his own feet as he ran down the stairs, pulling me into his arms the moment he was in front of me.

It’s been too long, he muttered into my hair. Being almost a whole foot taller than me, my head came up to his shoulders. I felt like a little kid again, surrounded by the safety of my parents. I could hear the front door shut behind me, but I didn’t spare a glance at it as I held on tightly to my father.

What felt like mere moments later, he was pulling away from me and gave me a once over, like he was looking for any injuries. I hated to think that they thought that was necessary.

What are you doing here? he asked, leading me to the large sectional that took up a majority of the living room.

Once we were all sitting, my mom spoke up, And where’s Jon?

I had to swipe my hands under my eyes to stem the flow of tears. It did little to stop them.

I shook my head helplessly. I left him.

Did he hurt you? my father demanded to know.

I thought of lying, but my father could always tell when I wasn’t being completely truthful. I didn’t want one of the first things I told them after a year of no communication to be a lie, anyway.

I couldn’t bring myself to say the word, so I just gave him a small nod.

That son of a bitch, he growled. I’m gonna kill him.

Ted, my mother reprimanded.

He stood up, beginning to pace while muttering to himself.

Do you want to talk about it? she asked softly.

After the long drive and the hard conversation with Jon, all I wanted to do was relax and soak in time with my family. The last thing I wanted was to talk about the failure that was my marriage.

I shook my head before taking a deep breath. What’s been going on around town?

My mother must’ve sensed that I needed a distraction; she immediately went on with what had changed in the time that I had been gone.

As she spoke, my father seemed to relax enough to sit on my other side. ... You’ll be happy to know that Mackenna got her pastry shop up and running.

Really? Here in North Hills? I asked hopefully.

My mom nodded her head with a small smile on her face.

Mackenna and I had been so close while we were growing up. When we had both left North Hills—Mackenna for culinary school and I to college to perfect my photography—we had agreed that we would never lose touch with each other.

I had been prepared for distance to push at our friendship, but I’d never expected Jon to be the force that broke us.

I’d talked to her less than a handful of times in the six years that I’d been with Jon, but I’d only seen her once. Her mother’s funeral. It was before Jon and I had been married, when Jon was still the perfect boyfriend, at least in my eyes. All of my loved ones told me to stay away from him, but I’d been naïve and thought that I saw a different side of him than he showed everyone else.

How wrong I had been.

It had always been Mackenna’s dream to have her own coffee or pastry shop, somewhere she could show off her talent. I was so happy to hear that she had persevered and brought that fantasy to life.

That’s amazing. I’ll have to go see her tomorrow. What’s it called?

My mom smiled. Flour Power.

I couldn’t help but snort as I heard the name. Mackenna was always the cheery one between the two of us; of course, she would name her shop something catchy like that.

I love it. What else is new?

My father scoffed from next to me. Not much. Those damn Wilders are still running the town. One of those worthless boys even found a position at the police station. They’re fucking everywhere.

At the mention of the Wilders, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. That family was the closest thing to royalty that our little town had. Beloved by everyone, it was as if they could do no wrong. I wouldn’t have had a problem with it if I hadn’t seen and dealt with it in person.

Nick Wilder was the oldest of the four boys, the most infuriating one. They all had large egos, but there was something about Nick that made my blood boil. I could remember how he seemed to think he was God’s gift to the town, how I would see him with a different girl on his arm every week. He would flaunt his looks and everyone would bow down.

Not me.

I could remember vividly how annoyed he would get with me when I wouldn’t act like every other clueless female. I still suspect that in high school, Nick was the one who spread the rumor that my parents had found cigarettes and bottles of vodka underneath my bed when I’d been forced to miss a few days of school due to a nasty stomach bug.

To get back at him, I may have told people he enjoyed, um, pleasing himself with donuts...

It was completely innocent.

Or not.

That, and a million other things we’d done to each other, were valid reasons that we hated the other. I just prayed that time was not kind to him and in the six years since I’d last seen him, he’d lost that pretty boy face. It wasn’t fair that God made that man so good-looking when he had the personality of a dead cow.

Which one’s a cop? I had known that the possibility of me needing to go to the police would be high if Jon found me early; I wanted to know that if I did, I wouldn’t have to air my dirty laundry out to the one man I hated almost more than Jon.

Nick, my father retorted.

Damn it.

With all the crap he did growing up, I can’t believe they made him a cop, I said disbelievingly.

"Let’s change the subject before you guys start breathing fire," my mom joked. She was the only one that didn’t particularly have a problem with the Wilders, but she mainly kept her opinion to herself since my dad was so vocal about his dislike.

I had tried to find out why my father had hated them so much, mainly the Wilders’ father, Matthew—besides the fact that they seemed to run the town from their large farm—but he always refused to say anything. I made a mental note to ask him about it later; maybe now that I was older he would tell me.

The Wilders were good for one thing, though. They were a pleasant distraction from the shitstorm that was my life.

While we spent time catching up, the sun had begun to set. I could actually hear the crickets, a sound that I had sorely missed while living in the city.

Is there somewhere I can sleep? I didn’t know if they still had my room set up for me or if I would have to sleep on the couch; either was a better alternative than going back to the house that I was running from.

Your room still has all your old furniture in it, my mother told me. She motioned for me to follow her up the small set of stairs that led to the upper level, the kitchen was directly in front of me and the hallway that led to the bedrooms was to my right. I gasped when my mom opened the door to my old bedroom.

Besides the pictures and posters that were no longer hanging up, everything was exactly how I had left it. The walls were a light gray with white trim, and the curtains that hung on the window were white and dark gray. She wasn’t lying when she said all my old furniture was still there. My bed, nightstand, and even my dresser. I’d forgotten how good the light brown carpet felt against my toes.

I can’t believe you kept all my furniture, I said wonderingly as my eyes scanned the familiar room.

I felt my father place his hand on my shoulder. We wanted to make sure you knew you always had a home to come back to.

I couldn’t stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks as I pulled my parents into my arms.

I’ve felt lost for so long now... I never thought I could feel this again.

A sense of security.

Chapter 2

ELIZABETH

There are those brief moments between sleep and reality where your consciousness isn’t fully aware of where you are.

As I woke up, I felt Jon’s arms around me, pulling me into his body to signal that he was ready for a certain wake-up call. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain before a knock sounded on the door forcing my eyes to open, showing me I was well and truly alone in my bed.

My breath came out shaky, but instead of dwelling on the dark memories that were living in my mind, I sat up against the pillows. I called out to whoever was on the other side of the door, letting them know they could come in.

My mom poked her head in. Did I wake you?

I just waved her off. It’s fine; I was getting up anyway. I threw the blankets off of me, walking to the suitcase that I had hastily packed as much of my clothes in before I left Jon.

I have breakfast ready if you’re hungry. I can just bring it to you if you’d rather stay in here, she offered carefully.

I’ll come out there, I told her. I wanted all the reminders that I was no longer surrounded by Jon and his high expectations.

I quickly grabbed a pair of dark blue jeans and a green long-sleeve sweater that made my auburn hair look brighter. Before going into the kitchen, I took a moment in the bathroom, inspecting the tired face that looked back at me in the mirror.

In the past few years, I’d hated looking at my reflection. I hated to see the hopelessness that lived behind my eyes. Now, though... there was something else there. Not happiness, not entirely, but... perhaps the beginnings of it.

My skin didn’t seem as pale as I had grown accustomed to—there was a rosy hue to my cheeks that hadn’t been there for a long time. Everything else was the same; the same small, delicate ears and pointed nose but also so different. It was like I was staring at my old self and damn, did I miss her.

After blinking away a few tears that threatened to fall, I exited the bathroom, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen where I could hear my parents chatting.

I paused just out of eyesight when I heard my name.

I know Lizzie’s not telling us everything, my dad whispered.

Our little girl’s been through a lot, my mom responded.

My dad’s voice held nothing but anger and sadness when he responded, I want to find that son of a bitch and kill him for what he did to our Lizzie.

Ted, my mom cautioned him. That attitude won’t solve anything. Right now, what Lizzie needs is us. What she doesn’t need is you in prison.

I know, he unwillingly admitted. I just hate feeling so useless. I didn’t have to see him to know that he was running his hands through his brown hair in frustration.

The only thing we can do is be here for her and wait for her to be ready to tell us what happened.

Not being able to handle any more of this conversation, I walked into the kitchen, giving them a grateful smile.

What do you want to do today, sweetheart? my mom asked after she set down a plate full of the best breakfast items in front of me at the kitchen island.

God, this is good, I moaned around the bite of pancakes. I took a sip of the hot coffee she handed me before answering her. I was actually wanting to pay Mackenna a visit, I said hesitantly; I didn’t want them to think that I didn’t want to spend any time with them after a year of not talking.

But I needed time with my friend.

Understanding lit up her eyes. Of course. She should be at her shop; she’s never far from that building.

Does she live there or something? I attempted to joke.

My mom smirked. She actually does. There’s a full apartment above the shop.

As we devoured the breakfast, my parents told me more about what had been going on around town.

Mr. Beckett is still his same haughty self, always complaining about something or other. Also, your old teacher, Mrs. Cameron, retired a few years back.

Hearing the name of my old third-grade teacher brought back a rush of wonderful memories, many with Mackenna as the star. What I wouldn’t give to go back to being that young, with no worries and no stress.

Who took over her classes?

In a town as small as North Hills, there were only three or four third-grade teachers. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard of a new teacher coming to the school.

A sweet girl a couple of years younger than you. Sophie Harris. The name briefly rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember how I knew it. Her parents passed away just about six years ago now. It’s just her and her brother; I think he’s about four years older than you.

Hearing the news about this girl’s parents, I could remember exactly how I remembered the name Harris. The car accident that took her parents from her was monumental news for our little town. I felt a pang imagining what she had to go through losing both of her parents so suddenly.

As I cleared my plate, I stood up to grab my parents’ dishes, but my mom gently slapped my hands away.

You will not be doing any dishes, young lady. Visit Mackenna, the two of you probably have a lot to catch up on.

I just stood there, unsure about leaving when there was still so much to clean up, but my mom gave me a soft smile. Pain flared in my father’s eyes for just a second before it was gone.

Go, sweetheart. We got it.

Every bone in my body screamed at me to clean up the kitchen; a dirty house led to an angry husband. I had to close my eyes and remind myself that wasn’t my life anymore. If I wanted to have a home that looked like a tornado just blew through it, I could. No one was going to yell at me and call me names just because there were dishes in the sink.

Are you sure? I couldn’t help but ask again.

"Go, my mom insisted. Do you need directions to her shop?"

I shook my head. I’m sure I can find it. There weren’t many buildings that a person couldn’t find in North Hills.

I went back to my bedroom to grab my phone. I froze when I saw the screen.

13 Missed Calls

10 Text Messages

2 Voicemails

My hands shook as I deleted everything, not looking or listening to any of the messages from Jon. I knew pretty much what they would say, anyway.

I took a deep breath before pocketing the cell, grabbing my purse, and heading back out into the kitchen.

I’ll be back soon.

My father waved my words away. Stay out all day, if you want. Just have fun.

I gave them another grateful smile and a few moments later I was down the stairs, out the door, and sitting in my car.

I drove down the same streets I had yesterday, but this time there were people on the sidewalks, just talking to each other. It was a big change from being in a big city like Collins, where no one cared to stop and talk—everyone was in too big of a hurry to be nice to their neighbors.

Once I was on Main Street, it didn’t take long to find Flour Power. After parking, I had to give myself a little pep talk before getting out. I knew deep down that Mackenna wouldn’t be mad, but it was hard to remember that not everyone got angry at little things.

The bells over the door jingled as I walked into the sunny bakery.

The floor was light blue tile and the tables were all white with mismatched chairs and it somehow brought the entire room together. The counters and the brick behind them were a bright yellow.

The smell almost brought me to my knees. I could remember watching Mackenna practice baking and cooking in her kitchen and being surrounded by the sweet smells that she would create. It was like stepping right into some of my high school memories.

The door that led to the kitchen opened and a woman with long brown hair stepped through it, carrying a tray of pastries.

Just in time! These came out of the...

She froze in the doorway as she spotted me standing, unsure, by the door. After a few moments of silence, I decided to break it.

Hey...

Liz? Mackenna whispered.

Hey, Mac.

I jumped when Mackenna screamed, dropping the tray that was full of pastries directly on the ground.

She ran around the counter, rushing to me like she thought I would disappear if she took her time.

I missed the feeling of being in my best friend’s arms. The last time I saw her was when I came to North Hills for her mom’s funeral five years ago, not exactly a favorable moment.

I’m sorry that I never returned your calls, I whispered.

Shush, that doesn’t matter, Mac said, waving away my concern.

Where’s— Another woman came rushing into the room from the same door that Mac had come from and interrupted her.

What’s going on? Is someone dying? She had a crazy look in her eyes as she glanced around at the empty tables. Her eyes narrowed when they settled back on Mac. Who the hell screams like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.

Mac just ignored her questions. It’s Liz! She’s back!

Familiarity flashed in the woman’s eyes as she took me in. She came around the counter, offering her hand. It’s great to meet you. I’m Kayla, the manager. I’ve heard a lot about you.

It’s great to meet you, too, I said, shaking her hand.

Kayla gave Mac an understanding look. Why don’t you take the morning off? I’ll remake the pastries and take care of everything down here.

Are you sure? Mac asked her, while untying the apron that was around her waist.

Yes, go! Kayla pushed her toward the door.

Mac grabbed my hand, taking me around the store to the back where there was a staircase that led to the second floor.

Where are you taking me? I asked as she led me up the steps.

When I bought the building I had the top floor renovated to an apartment, so I wasn’t ever far from my shop, Mackenna explained.

At the top of the stairs, the front door opened directly into the kitchen. There were white cabinets, with granite countertops, and the kitchen island mirrored the one in my parents’ home. She also had a cute little kitchen table by a set of windows and there was a large sectional on the opposite wall. Two of the three walls were exposed brick while the last one was a soft white with dark green trim. The apartment was small, but it definitely screamed Mackenna.

It’s a cute place, I said