by R. J. Groves
The list wasn’t long.
A few mutual friends, some distant relatives she’d felt obliged to invite, a few of Joseph’s closest. Work colleagues, mostly. Now that she thought about it, she wouldn’t have had many people who were there for her. But it hadn’t bothered her when she’d thought Joseph was all she needed. She swallowed, taking one more sip of her wine and rising to her feet. How foolish she’d been.
Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, harder, more eager than before.
It was probably her next-door neighbour who’d run out of milk again. She swung the door open, prepared to tease her neighbour, only to be met with a look so intense that it sucked all the breath from her body.
No, the vineyard wasn’t really the last place she thought she’d ever see him.
Her home was.
Yet, here he was. Grey eyes and all. His hair slightly ruffled, his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. He had one arm stretched in front of him, his hand pressed against the wall just beside the door. His other hand was in his pocket.
She lost count of the questions that shot through her mind.
Why are you here?
What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until business hours in the shop?
He’d picked her up for their date, so he already knew her address. But she had never intended on him showing up on her doorstep. She decided to ask him why he was there, but it wasn’t what came out.
‘What do you want?’
She bit into her lip once the words were out. She hadn’t meant for it to sound so rude. He frowned and opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut, his lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, his eyes trailed down her body, taking in her outfit. She probably looked a rough sight. This was the shirt that had various stains and holes in it. She swallowed, his eyes burning a trail down her body and back up again. God, he hadn’t even uttered a word yet and she already felt weak in the knees. She couldn’t … couldn’t let herself feel anything for this … this arrogant … doesn’t-like-to-call, too-handsome-for-his-own-good bastard. So she did the only thing she could think of to do …
And slammed the door in his face.
Or tried to, at least. And failed, in that he was quick enough to jam his foot through the doorway, stopping it. Damn him. She heard him swear, his voice pained, and eased the door open to face him again.
‘Damn it, Andie,’ he ground out, squeezing his foot with his hand. ‘What was that for?’
‘You’re the one who put your foot there.’ She considered slamming the door again.
‘Well, I didn’t think you were going to close it so hard.’
She sighed, her shoulders dropping. Perhaps slamming the door on him was a bit out there. She didn’t think she’d ever slammed a door on a man before—on anyone, for that matter. She remembered slapping him and considered doing it again. It seemed Taylor Ballin brought out the worst in her.
‘Why are you here, Taylor?’
***
God, she was beautiful.
He was surprised to see how she dressed at home. Tight-fitting pants that hugged her body in all the right places and a tattered loose shirt really suited her. Her hair wasn’t in the tight bun she’d worn at the shop. It was heaped on top of her head in a pile so messy that he wondered if she’d ever be able to find her hair tie. He would have previously considered the sight before him as drab, baggy, unkempt. Yet she looked so … exquisite.
He’d almost forgotten why he came to her place in the first place.
If it hadn’t been for the throbbing in his foot and the annoyed look on her face, he might have thought it was simply to take her in his arms and make love to her all night. As many times as he could. He would learn every inch of her body, her smell, her taste, and leave muscles she never knew existed aching for days.
Her eyebrow lifted, and he realised she was still waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat, doing his best to regain control, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn’t let anything happen. Not again. Not like how he’d lost control a week ago and kissed her until his own head was spinning. No. That was a mistake. One he couldn’t make again. It might hurt every bone in his body, but he had to leave her place without anything happening.
‘We need to talk,’ he said flatly.
She folded her arms delicately over her chest. At least she didn’t try slamming the door on him again—progress, of sorts. His eyes dropped to the glass of wine in her hand and he remembered Libby mentioning something about her having plans that night.
‘A—are you alone?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe.’ She took a slow sip of her wine, then raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe not.’
He held her gaze for a long moment, trying to work out which it was. After what he’d learned at the vineyard …
Well, some things you were better off learning from the person themselves. And this was definitely one of those things. He’d never felt bad about looking into people. Companies. Investments. They were all the same. He had to be certain about the kind of people he was getting involved with. Looking into them was only natural. And this was so minor in comparison.
Yet … this was the first time he’d felt wretched for doing so. And though he’d never had trouble keeping his mouth shut, his admission was on the tip of his tongue. And he couldn’t risk that.
Silence got the better of the situation. And before he could blurt out something stupid, she sighed, sipped her wine, and dropped her other arm to her side. She studied him a moment, then nudged her head.
‘Want to come in?’
He hesitated. She was alone, then. That was promising. Though affianced couples didn’t always share a house or spend every possible moment together. She stepped to the side to let him in, and he studied the room around her. No sign of anyone living with her. Everything seemed so … normal. Particular. Few things looked out of place. Nothing indicated a man living there. He picked up a picture frame from a hall table and studied it. A young Andie in a graduation gown, her square cap sitting on her head, her arms around a man and woman that showed a striking resemblance to her. Her parents. She looked happy, carefree. And though her looks hadn’t changed much over the years, now she seemed weighed down. She’d been hurt before. Stretched. It wasn’t surprising, really. Adulthood had a way of banishing youthfulness and carefree attitudes.
He heard the door close behind him and he replaced the picture on the table, turning to face her. She’d folded her arms over her chest again. Her now empty glass was on the edge of the hall table. His eyes drifted back to meet hers and he felt his eyebrows lift.
‘I was thirsty,’ she muttered. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and he fought the urge to close the distance between them and kiss her until she was no longer strained. ‘Are you going to answer my question?’ When he didn’t answer, she sighed audibly. ‘Why are you here?’
He blinked absently, then turned back towards the hall table, studying a porcelain figurine. A young girl with long red hair, a blue bonnet on her head, a bundle of flowers gathered in her skirt, and a small black and white dog at her feet, looking up at her adoringly. He picked it up. It was an old figurine, he could tell, but the details were incredible. And from the right angle, it looked a lot like Andie.
‘I should apologise,’ he started, placing the figurine back on the table. He glanced towards her. Her eyes were set on the figurine.
‘For what?’ The way she said it didn’t imply that he had nothing to apologise for, but rather that he had a lot to apologise for.
He almost smiled, but somehow managed to stay solemn. Delicate matters. He had to word this in a way that didn’t give away the fact that he knew more about her than she knew he did. Damn it … He shouldn’t have looked up her file.
‘I may have been a bit … forceful’—her eyebrows shot up—‘with our … arrangement. You know the one.’
One eyebrow lowered, but the other remained high. Her tong
ue pressed to the inside of her cheek, and he felt a twinge below the belt. ‘I’m not sure I do,’ she said.
The wench. Of course she knew. How could she not? She wanted him to grovel, no doubt. Well, she’d be disappointed. Tay grovelled for no one. He held her gaze, hoping that silence would do the trick once again, but it didn’t. After a considerable amount of time, he sighed.
‘Our business … date.’ He stepped further into the room and rested a hand on the back of the couch. She smirked. Blasted wench.
‘Is that what that was?’ she said, moving towards the figurine and adjusting it. Then, glancing at the picture frame, she adjusted that too. He held back a smile. She liked things just so. He should have guessed. ‘You have an odd business ethic, Mr Ballin.’
His jaw twitched. It took a lot of courage to even consider apologising to her. Still … It seemed there was still a gentlemanly part of him left, after all. Even though he’d thought that part was long gone.
‘What I meant,’ he said, his tone stern, ‘is that I didn’t give you much of a choice in the matter. I didn’t factor in that you might have … have—’
He searched for the right way to say it. How did he say that he hadn’t thought—or cared—that she might have been in a relationship, serious or not, when he’d asked her out? Without making it seem like he was some jerk-faced asshole, or giving away that he’d looked into her? And without making it seem like he’d wanted more than just a business deal? Which he didn’t. Or, at least, he thought he didn’t. Apparently, his body had other ideas.
‘—been with someone.’
Her jaw clenched, and her chin lifted, her eyes looking past him. She blinked a few times, and he silently swore at himself. Damn it. He’d hoped that it was all a misunderstanding. That she was very much single and available when he … when he kissed her. When he’d lost control. He wasn’t looking for anything, but damn it, he wasn’t a cheater. Nor did he want to make anyone a cheater. He saw her swallow, but she said nothing. Just continued to stare blankly past him.
‘I should have thought of it,’ he continued, trying his best to read her expression, but failing. And he couldn’t squash the heaviness that had settled in his stomach, either. ‘It makes sense that you were with someone. A beautiful woman like you wouldn’t be alone for long before someone snatched you up.’
He saw something flicker in her eyes before she dropped her gaze to her feet, her head bowed slightly. She was still silent, but he could have cut through the tension with a knife. He turned his gaze away from her. God, he hoped he hadn’t caused her pain. He scanned the rest of the room, his eyes falling to a pile of cards on the coffee table. Invites, by the looks of them. Of the wedding kind. He recognised the marital fonts and colours from samples Libby had shown him. One was turned over, away from the rest of the cards, with Save the date! written in big fancy lettering. Damn.
Just as well.
He had to remember that.
He wasn’t meant to be with anyone. And certainly not with someone that took away his ability to think. Those girls always meant trouble. And trouble wasn’t something he could deal with. Not again. He steeled himself and turned back towards her, gathering up the energy to wrap this up as quickly as he could so he could go back to his regular, organised life. Without trouble.
‘So, I’m sorry if my lack of consideration caused any trouble for you and your—’ He broke off.
Her what? His eyes dropped to her left hand. There was no ring. And thinking back on it, there had never been a ring on her hand at any of their interactions. If he said fiancé, she would suspect he knew something. Which he did. Oh, he absolutely did.
‘I’m sorry, Andie.’
Her body shook, and she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. She was trying to hide it, but he heard her sniffle. Hell … His suspicions must be right. If he’d broken them up … well, no apology would make that better. Stupid fool that he was. He didn’t want trouble.
But he somehow kept finding it.
It was a weakness. And he hated it. He’d done so well for years since … since her. He’d thought he’d moved past it, managed to gain control of himself. He’d learned to discern which women were trouble and he’d managed to avoid them. Until now.
‘You should go,’ she whispered, shifting her gaze to the blank wall opposite the hall table.
He hesitated.
He didn’t want to go.
Why didn’t he want to go?
It was logical. It made sense. He could leave now, and all of this would be left behind him.
It was the tears, damn it. He had a soft spot for crying. Libby knew that and had no reservations about using it to her advantage. He hadn’t been this affected by anyone else … He took a hesitant step towards her, his body and mind both fighting for control. The right thing to do was to leave like she’d asked and not look back. He had to move on, settle back into his life. But a strong part of him wanted to stay. To comfort her. Kiss away her tears.
That part of him was stupid.
‘Andie—’
‘Please,’ she said, her jaw set, a slight tremor in her voice. She still didn’t look at him.
He studied her for a moment, and when she said nothing more and only moved to open the door for him, still avoiding his gaze, he nodded slowly.
It’s what she wanted.
And it was the logical, reasonable thing to do.
He should feel better. Lighter. Like a weight had been lifted off his chest. But it hadn’t.
It only weighed heavier.
Chapter 12
She was still shaking hours after he’d left. What was she supposed to make of it? Out of him showing up unexpectedly and apologising? And not for making her go on a date with him, or for kissing her. He’d apologised for not thinking that she might have been in a relationship when he asked. For not thinking.
If she had been with someone when he asked, she would have told him. It would have been the first time she’d ever had to say it, since no one had ever asked her out when she’d actually been with someone. In fact, few people had asked her out at all. But she knew that if she were in that situation, she’d let him know. She would never cheat on someone. She knew, first-hand, what it felt like. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
She could have told him that when he was there earlier. She could have told him that she had recently been with a guy but wasn’t anymore. She could have told him damn near everything. But she didn’t.
God, she just … couldn’t.
Couldn’t bring herself to say it. Maybe because saying it out loud to someone was all a bit too real for what she could deal with right now. She was still raw, though she hated to admit it. Someone betraying your trust in the way that Joseph had hers took time to heal. Time and … well … she hadn’t discovered what else, yet.
What had brought him to her door?
Why had Taylor Ballin felt so pressed to apologise that he came to her door? That he came to apologise, face to face, at her home? Not her work. Not over the phone. Her home. Why did it matter to him?
She reached to turn the light off in the lounge room, readying herself to go to bed, even though she knew sleep would not come easy tonight, if at all. Her eyes fell to the cards on the coffee table. Still sitting there. Still waiting to be sent. She should just throw them all in the bin. What use did she have for them? She hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it before. But now …
She stomped over to the pile of cards and picked one up, reading it over once more. Her name. Joseph’s name. A date. All lies. She scrunched it up as best she could and gathered up the rest of the cards, turning the light off as she left, and dumped them all in the kitchen bin.
She stared at the cards and took a deep breath. She should feel better, right? One more step to getting over him and what happened. Those stupid cards had been taunting her for weeks, and now they were finally gone. She should be relieved. And she was. A little. But she might have felt better if she’d moved them on weeks ago. Befor
e Taylor Ballin had a chance to see them.
She knew he’d seen them.
She’d noticed the way his body language changed when he looked in that direction. And considering one of them had the side with Save the date! written in huge letters in clear view, it was pretty obvious what the cards were for.
But he hadn’t asked.
And he’d already been convinced that she was seeing someone when he rocked up on her doorstep. Where did he get that idea from? Maybe it only made him feel better about her sabotaging the date and making his damn business arrangement miserable. And maybe, now that he’d gotten it all off his chest, he’d leave her alone. That would be for the best. She already felt an ache in her chest, and her stomach turned every time she saw him.
Her thoughts drifted back to their kiss and his demand for a do-over. What would become of that now? She pushed the thought aside. Better to stop it now before it was too late. Before she could really get hurt.
She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the stupid lump in her throat.
What if she didn’t want him to leave her alone?
***
Tay pushed the pile of paperwork to the side and ran his hand over his stubbled jaw. It was rougher than usual. He’d been distracted, not as focused on trimming it neatly. He’d even forgotten to iron his shirt and pick up his suit from the drycleaners. Hell, even his tie was creased. Interesting how a few days of distraction could ruin a man’s order.
Who was he kidding?
He’d been distracted for almost two weeks.
Since he’d met that damn woman.
That feisty, auburn-haired, mysterious-eyed … beautiful … woman. Taken woman.
