by R. J. Groves
‘I thought you said that was your car,’ he said, sounding as though he was annoyed.
He squeezed into the passenger seat and she felt all the air get sucked out of her little car. She wound her window down in the hope it would make it feel bigger.
It didn’t.
‘I said nothing of the sort,’ she said grumpily. ‘You simply assumed that I could afford such a luxury.’
‘You can’t?’
She glared at him. Was he really so richly arrogant that he thought everyone could afford a new car? But his expression confused her. It didn’t look as though he thought that. He almost looked … concerned … for her. Like he wanted to help.
‘Andie, if you’re—’
‘Don’t even dare try offering me your stupid money again. I’m not a bloody charity case.’
His eyebrow shot up, his eyes still flashing with amusement. ‘No, you’re right. Charities have no qualms with accepting money.’
She scowled, gripping her hands tightly on the steering wheel, looking out the window. ‘I bet you would know,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘What I know might surprise you.’
She rolled her eyes, then caught a glimpse of him reaching for the lever to move his seat back. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
He paused, glancing over at her, his hand resting on the lever. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s as far back as it’ll go,’ she said, feeling herself growing tired of arguing. ‘If it goes back any further, it’ll fall off the rail, and I don’t particularly feel like wedging it back on today.’
He slowly lifted his hand away from the lever and adjusted his cramped position. ‘This is a small car,’ he mumbled. His knee bumped the glove box and the door of it fell off. He swore, and she smirked.
‘Oh, yeah, that happens, too.’
His eyes widened at her. ‘And you rely on this thing? It’s practically falling apart around you.’
‘It’s never failed me before.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
Her eyebrow lifted. ‘You don’t have to come if you’re scared.’
He frowned at her, adjusted his position once more—not looking at all comfortable—and nodded his head. ‘Well, go on, then. Don’t want to keep Libby waiting.’
Smirking, Andie recklessly whipped the car out onto the road, speeding up as quickly as she possibly could. Beside her, Taylor swore. Again. More profusely, this time.
‘Are you trying to kill me?’ he grumbled, attempting to shift his position again.
She shrugged, her lips pulling higher. It would solve some of her problems.
Chapter 14
Tay dropped the bonnet of the blasted car closed. Why didn’t it surprise him? Of course the bloody thing would stop working mere kilometres away from the vineyard. He kicked the bumper and watched as it dislodged from its place. He blinked, feeling his blood boil. And why the hell wouldn’t that happen, too? Dratted, blasted—
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘What the bloody hell isn’t wrong with it?’ Her eyebrow shot up, and he tried to calm down as much as he could. ‘When was the last time you had it serviced?’
She bit into her bottom lip in response. He watched the tender pink of her lip fade the harder she bit. His mouth dried. Damn it all. How was he supposed to resist her when he knew what those lips tasted like? When he could still taste her, still feel her body pressed against his. He groaned. Partly because he knew what that lip-biting meant, mostly because he was feeling that damn urge again.
‘You’ve never had it serviced,’ he said flatly. She shook her head. He ran a hand through his hair. God, didn’t the woman care about her safety? She was driving a car around that was literally falling apart, and she’d never cared to have it serviced. ‘How long have you had it?’
‘A year,’ she said hesitantly. He narrowed his eyes as something flickered across her face. ‘Two,’ she amended.
‘And you never thought to get it serviced?’
‘I knew it wouldn’t pass a roadworthy,’ she said defensively.
His jaw clenched. Negligence on having the car serviced was one thing—she might not have known any better—but refusing to have it serviced, knowing that it was dangerous to drive it, was entirely reckless. Maybe her ex took care of all the car things. But then, if they’d only broken up a few months earlier, the car still should have been serviced when she was with the guy, which it clearly hadn’t been. No, her ex didn’t take care of car things. At least not hers. His hand balled into a fist by his side as he thought of the bastard. If she was his girl, he wouldn’t have her driving around in something that could crumble at the next pothole.
He froze.
If she was his girl …
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thought aside. She wouldn’t be his girl. No one was ever his girl. Not since … Well, the last time he’d called a girl his, she’d betrayed him in ways he never could have imagined. He didn’t want to go there again. He couldn’t.
‘And you drive it anyway,’ he said, gruffly.
She frowned at him. ‘Like I said, it’s never failed me before.’
‘You knew it wouldn’t pass a roadworthy.’
‘Doesn’t mean it’s going to fail me.’
He indicated towards the car that so obviously had failed her. She folded her arms across her chest defensively.
‘I blame you,’ she added.
‘Me?’ Was she serious? There couldn’t be anything—anything—to do with that car that was his fault.
‘Yes, you,’ she sulked, her eyes wide. ‘You doubted my car, and now it’s sad.’
Sad? God, could it get any worse? ‘Cars don’t have feelings, Andie.’
‘You might be surprised,’ she said, convinced. He frowned. ‘Have you ever had your kettle die when you’ve just replaced your toaster?’ His frown deepened. ‘It’s because it’s jealous.’
‘I don’t think a kettle would be jealous about being sent to an early grave.’
‘Don’t you think the timing is a coincidence?’
‘Maybe because you bought them at the same time, and they have the same kind of lifespan.’
She blinked, her mouth slightly open. Surprised, as though she hadn’t thought of that explanation. Feelings. How the hell could she think that inanimate objects had feelings? Hell, he barely had them himself. Not for a long time. Until now … He stared at the car.
‘Do you have insurance?’ She shook her head. ‘Roadside assistance?’ She shook it again.
Damn, the woman didn’t just drive a car that was likely to crumble. She also didn’t have any bloody insurance or anything that would help her when the inevitable happened. Maybe he could call someone to help. Tay checked his phone only to find his battery was flat and slipped it back into his pocket. He swallowed the lump in his throat and checked his pockets to make sure he had everything. Then he started walking. He heard her make a few unintelligible noises before calling after him.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Walking.’ Wasn’t the answer obvious? There was no way in hell he was getting back in that car in case the blasted thing decided to explode.
‘Where are you going?’
‘The vineyard,’ he said.
‘Shouldn’t we call a tow truck or something?’
He turned towards her, walking backwards. ‘Do you have your phone?’
‘No, I forgot to grab it this morning. It’s probably on the kitchen table or something.’
Tay smirked. So he wasn’t the only one having phone troubles that day. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. The damned thing will fall apart the second anyone touches it. Grab your things.’ He indicated towards the car and turned back to watch where he was walking.
He heard her stomp towards the car, then the door closing shortly after. He heard the patter of her heels as she chased after him. He smiled, slowing down to let her catch up. She fell into step beside him.
‘I’d say the
vineyard is about two kilometres away,’ he said. Her arms were folded over her chest again as she stared ahead of them.
‘Three,’ she said flatly. ‘And a half.’
He lifted his eyebrow, studying her. She was probably right—he hadn’t driven the road enough to know exactly how far away they were. But now that he thought about it, they probably were further away than he thought they were. Still, she seemed more convinced of the answer.
‘Do you frequent the vineyard?’ he said.
She shot a look towards him, then dropped her gaze quickly. He noticed her cheeks darken. ‘With clients,’ she muttered.
‘Didn’t know it was part of your job description.’ Her cheeks darkened further. ‘I mean, I thought you were a seamstress, not a wedding planner.’
‘I’m not,’ she shot back. ‘I just like helping brides by having a back-up venue available.’
‘Once every two years?’
She looked up at him again. Quickly, shocked. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open slightly. Waiting. Waiting for him to explain how he caught her in a lie. And how the hell he’d know that about her. He swallowed.
‘I know you’ve made a booking every two years,’ he said, warily. ‘That’s not many brides you’re helping out.’
‘Well, I’m not a wedding planner,’ she said defensively.
He stopped walking and turned to face her. ‘I also know that you’ve cancelled those bookings closer to the date.’
She stared at him, her eyes moving, searching. ‘How could you possibly know that?’ she whispered.
He shrugged. ‘I saw the books. I already told you that,’ he said. ‘My point is, this is the first time you’ve given one of those bookings to a desperate bride. You can’t tell me that Libby was the only person you’ve come across in all that time that wasn’t desperate for a venue.’
He saw something flicker across her face again—something that made him ache. Hurt. Surely, she hadn’t been hurt that many times …
***
She swallowed, studying the grey eyes, the hint of blue darkening the more she looked into them. He’d figured it out. Caught her in a lie.
He was right.
Libby wasn’t the only desperate bride.
She’d come across many—some who’d even had to draw out their engagements because they couldn’t get a venue. She’d never once been able to give her reservation to someone else until now. Never. So why did she tell Taylor that she had? Maybe because, deep down, she was embarrassed about having reserved the vineyard every two years in the hope that she might find The One in that time. She felt a lump catch in her throat. Screw The One! Did he even exist? Or was that another one of those stupid fairy tales she used to believe?
She’d once thought Joseph was The One. Oh, how she’d been mistaken. She could have saved herself a whole lot of heartache if she’d never been looking for The One in the first place. She should’ve been looking for a For Now instead. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and blinked back threatening tears.
Why was Taylor so interested in her history with the vineyard? And how the hell did he know about it? Sure, he’d looked at the books. But why was he looking at the books? As far as she knew from her visit to his office, he worked at a tech company. What would that have to do with a vineyard?
She moved her mouth, trying to tell him the truth, but nothing came out. She snapped it shut. Telling him that she did it for the brides made her seem like a nice person, someone who went the extra mile for her clients. Admitting the truth—that she did it for herself and never once gave her booking to anyone else—made her look … selfish. And desperate. Incredibly desperate. Who in their right mind booked a venue for a wedding every two years, for ten years? Hell, she even felt desperate.
‘H—how many times have you been jilted, Andie?’
His eyes darkened further, and a chill ran down her spine. She held her arms tighter across her chest and frowned. ‘I wasn’t jilted,’ she said defensively. ‘I ended it with him.’
He shrugged indifferently. ‘Breaker, breakee. He still betrayed you, right? You wouldn’t have ended it otherwise.’
She lifted her chin. She had been betrayed. She may have done the breaking up with him, but he was the one that hurt her. He probably never even batted an eyelid about how she felt about it. She dropped her head and started walking again, staring at the points of her shoes as she walked. He walked beside her, in silence. The silence was almost … nice.
When was the last time she’d gone for a walk? She couldn’t remember. Certainly never like this. Never in heels. She frowned.
‘You can’t expect me to walk three kilometres in heels,’ she blurted out.
His brow creased, and she felt his gaze follow the length of her body until it rested on her feet. ‘You don’t have to wear them,’ he said simply.
‘I don’t have any other shoes.’
‘You could go barefoot.’ His eyes shot her a daring look. Dark. They were dark. She swallowed, attempting to alleviate the dryness in her mouth.
‘My feet would get cut up.’
‘Blisters it is, then.’
She groaned. She never liked blisters. Who would? But she also didn’t fancy having her feet cut up from glass or anything else on the path. Then again, blisters were incredibly painful …
‘Or, I could carry you,’ he said, flashing her a mischievous grin.
She felt her face flush. Blisters it would have to be.
They continued walking in silence. She focused on the rhythmic clipping of her heels on the path and smooth pounding of his feet. She thought about her and Joseph. The signs really were all there. She’d just been too foolish to notice them. Her friends and her family all had—she simply refused to believe that something wasn’t right. Serves her right. Fairy tales were foolish and childish. They weren’t something that adults should believe in. Perhaps she had been jilted after all. She swallowed.
‘Once,’ she said. She registered him looking up at her, and hazarded a quick glance in his direction. His expression was questioning. She swallowed again. ‘I’ve been … jilted … once.’
She glanced up at him again. The hardened planes of his face seemed to have softened. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His brow was furrowed, and he looked sad—as if he felt sorry for her. She cleared her throat, straightening herself and quickening her pace.
‘But remember,’ she added, ‘I ended it with him. And I’d rather not talk about it.’
He nodded. ‘And the other bookings?’
‘I won’t talk about them, either.’
He nodded again and walked beside her in silence for a few more minutes. The tapping of their feet wasn’t as rhythmic as it had seemed before. His were still long and slow, while hers were short and quick. But they both seemed to be going the same speed. Damn him and his long strong legs.
‘I need to ask you something, Andie,’ he said after a long moment. She glanced up at him, waiting for him to go on. He was looking at the road ahead of them, a frown on his face. Thoughtful. Hard. Determined. ‘Did you buy that car because you wanted it, or because you couldn’t afford anything else?’
She blinked at him. Was he seriously asking about her financial situation? Not that there was much to talk about. Still, it seemed … odd … to talk to a rich guy about how much money she had—or lack, thereof. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if holding herself together.
‘I bought it because I was saving for something else,’ she said stiffly.
It wasn’t entirely a lie—weddings were expensive, after all. But Joseph had been the one paying for most of it. No, the car was hers. Her independence. Her thing that she’d picked out and bought herself. Aside from the car that she’d borrowed from her parents after she’d left home, that was her first car. And she hadn’t been able to justify spending too much on it. Especially since she worked hard for her money. Maybe if she had lashed out and bought a better one, they wouldn’t have broken down on the way to the vineyard. She
wouldn’t have been walking next to the very handsome man who tantalised her in her dreams. The very man who she should stay away from.
‘Your wedding.’
She nodded, risking another glance up at him. His lips were pressed in a thin line as he stared ahead of them. What was going on in that mind of his, she wondered. His hair looked slightly tousled from the breeze that had picked up. She thought of how smooth it looked when he ran his hand through it earlier. She itched to feel for herself. She squeezed her arms around her tighter and stared ahead of them, like he did. If she had to walk with him for the next three kilometres, she sure as hell couldn’t have thoughts like that going through her mind.
‘And after it fell through?’
She shrugged. What could she say? Wedding or no, she still couldn’t afford a brand-new car—let alone a half-good second-hand one. Why hadn’t she gotten her car serviced? Because she was worried it’d be deemed unroadworthy and she wouldn’t have a car at all, for starters. Mostly because she couldn’t afford it. Because most of her money went on rent and surviving. Simple. Sure, Jannette was a generous employer. But Andie’s income was still barely above minimum wage—especially when she couldn’t sell any new dresses. Of course, she still had a little bit saved up, but she’d planned on that being her emergency fund. Not to be touched unless she absolutely needed it.
‘What are you going to do with the car, now?’
She shrugged again. ‘What else? I’ll have to get it fixed I suppose.’ He scoffed, and she shot a glare in his direction. ‘Do you have a better idea?’ she said, frowning. She still blamed him for the car breaking down. And for turning her world upside down when she’d just started getting it sorted again.
‘That car would cost more to fix up than it’s worth.’
‘I can’t get a new one.’
‘Why not?’
She bit into her lower lip, closing her eyes. Why was it so difficult to admit to him that she couldn’t afford one? She could barely even afford to get this car fixed.
