A Wedding One Christmas

by Therese Beharrie

  ‘Ange—’

  ‘Could you...’ Her voice went hoarse, and she cleared her throat. ‘Could you please hand me my bra?’

  Disappointment stole his breath, but he made his way to the embankment. He pulled himself up and turned around to give her privacy after he handed her the bra. It was foolish to be disappointed, he told himself. It wasn’t like things could have gone any further than they had.

  Want to bet?

  He almost grunted at the thought, feeling like a complete ass as he did. What would he have done? Made love with her in a river? In a public place? Without knowing her for more than a day? Without having protection on him?

  The answers made him ill, and he kept his back turned to Angie for longer than he needed to. Kept himself from offering her help, too, when he heard a sound that indicated she was pulling herself out of the river. She wouldn’t have accepted his help. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.

  Which was part of the reason he found himself in this...predicament. He knew Angie better than most people in his life. She knew him, too. She turned him into someone he didn’t recognise. Someone who wanted to make love in a river—the lack of hygiene, for heaven’s sake!—with someone he’d only met that day.

  He shook his head, hoping the memories and the reverence that accompanied them would disappear as he did. Once he was sure he had a control over his emotions, he turned back to Angie. She’d replaced her bra, but not her clothing. Her arms lifted, but then she snapped them back at her sides and straightened her shoulders. She wanted to cover herself, but had stopped, he realised. If not for the colour that flared on her cheeks, he wouldn’t have known she was uncomfortable.

  Damn if that didn’t make him respect her even more.

  ‘I can’t put my dress on while I’m wet, so I’m going to—’ she cleared her throat again ‘—I’m just going to wait here until I’m not. You can go ahead.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He stayed where he was, his eyes on her face. He wouldn’t look at her body. Not when he knew she wanted to cover herself. But he couldn’t resist looking at her face.

  ‘Ezra, I said you can go.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Why aren’t you leaving then?’ Her voice was sharp.

  ‘I’m not going to leave you alone in the dark.’

  ‘It’ll be f—’

  ‘—in a place we both don’t know—’

  ‘—honestly, I’ll be fi—’

  ‘—half naked.’

  He almost winced at the sharpness in his own voice, but with each sentence, she’d angered him. He realised he was probably projecting his emotions; he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  ‘Nothing will happen to me,’ she said finally, flatly, into the silence that had stretched between them.

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I won’t let it.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you alone here.’ His tone was harsh. He forced himself to soften it when he continued. ‘Look, I know part of the reason you’re sending me away is because you want space. I’ll give you some. I’ll go and sit on the other side of the pier if that’s what you want. But please, don’t ask me to leave you here.’

  She didn’t reply, and he sighed.

  ‘Do you want to go up now then?’ he asked. ‘We can get you a change of clothing from your car.’

  ‘I’m basically naked.’

  As if he didn’t know it.

  ‘You can wear my shirt.’ He handed her the shirt and pulled on his pants before looking at her again. ‘What’s your decision?’

  ‘We can go up. I’ll wear the shirt.’ She paused. ‘Thank you.’

  He nodded. Turned away again as she put on the shirt. It seemed like a futile gesture. Hadn’t he had her breast in his mouth minutes ago? But she seemed to want privacy. He’d give it to her. Even though it was futile. The picture of her body was forever seared in his brain.

  On the upside, it gave him a chance to ignore his emotions.

  Except that they wouldn’t sit back and obey his determination not to pay attention to them. No, as he and Angie made their way back to the lodge, his feelings sprung up and down in his head. They waved their arms around, demanding he pay them heed.

  Of course, when he did, he realised how terrible he felt about the entire situation. About beginning the flirtation that had led them into that water. About leaning into the pleasure of it when he wasn’t sure she wanted it.

  That’s what he felt now. Because of her reaction now. It was so far from the woman who’d moaned and writhed in his arms. Who’d eagerly kissed him and encouraged their seduction. Which made him wonder if that woman had existed at all.

  Had he pretended she existed for the sake of his own pleasure? Had he pushed her into doing something that hadn’t made her feel comfortable? Something she wasn’t ready for?

  A deep, crushing feeling overwhelmed him. Emotion thickened in his throat. He wanted to apologise, but apologising would be an admission that he’d acted like a complete asshole. And the fact that he was resisting the admission of being a complete asshole told him that Angie deserved an apology.

  ‘Ezra?’ Angie’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I asked if it was okay if I took a shower in your room.’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied. Then frowned. ‘It’s your room for tonight, too. You don’t have to ask me.’

  ‘Except that I do.’ She pulled at the edge of the shirt with her free hand. ‘I don’t think it’s such a good idea to stay with you tonight.’

  Ezra groaned, shaking his head. ‘I’m so sorry, Angie. This is—I’m so sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to push you back there. I didn’t mean for you—’ He broke off, and then took a deep breath. He couldn’t be a coward. Not with this. ‘I’m sorry for making you feel unsafe.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘What we did back there...’

  He trailed off, his face twisted in anguish. It had her fingers itching to smooth the lines away. To kiss the furrow between his eyebrows. It had nothing on what happened to her heart when his eyes met hers.

  ‘I’m sorry if you felt like I forced you.’

  ‘Forced...’ It took her a few minutes to process before the pieces clicked. ‘No, Ezra. No,’ she said again, shaking her head so vehemently she saw water flying on either side of her body. ‘You didn’t force me into anything.’

  She pressed the heel of her hand over her eye socket, then shook her head again, though it was much gentler this time.

  ‘I’m sorry I made you think that. I... It’s not... This wasn’t about me feeling unsafe. I don’t feel unsafe around you.’ She took a step closer but stopped herself before she could embrace him like she wanted to. That’s what had got her into trouble in the first place. ‘I probably feel safer than I ever have around you.’ She swallowed when the words sent a thick lump of emotion into her throat. ‘What happened back there... What almost happened... I wanted it, too.’

  ‘You don’t have to say that.’

  ‘I’m not just saying it. I mean it. I was a willing participant. You did nothing wrong.’

  She couldn’t resist lifting a hand to cup his cheek. They stood like that for a moment, and then she heard laughter in the distance and she remembered where she was. What she was wearing. She looked down at his shirt that was now wet at her chest, displaying her black underwear.

  ‘Obviously, we have to talk. But not here. Like this.’ She gestured down to herself. When she looked back at him, he was watching her with careful eyes. It killed her. ‘Unless you’re still under the impression that you forced me into something, in which case I will stand here like this for as long as it takes for me to convince you otherwis
e.’

  ‘We can go up.’

  ‘Ezra.’

  ‘It’s fine, honestly.’

  She stared at him. ‘Is this how annoying I was back there? When I didn’t want you to stay with me?’

  His lips twitched. ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Probably.’ She paused. Tried again. ‘I understand that my reaction was...confusing back there. It wasn’t because of you. Or it was, but not, you know, because I felt coerced in any way. I didn’t. Absolutely not. And if I had, there would have been less of, you know.’ She made a vague hip-circle gesture, avoiding his eyes when it made her blush.

  He didn’t reply to her words. When she turned back to him, he quirked a brow. ‘I’m not sure I know what you were referring to.’

  ‘Of course you know,’ she snapped, more out of embarrassment than anger. But he grinned at her, and she wasn’t so sure it wasn’t anger. ‘You’re not as amusing as you think you are,’ she told him.

  ‘That’s a certainty.’

  He smiled at her. She didn’t find it as seductive as she had his other smiles. She didn’t think it was because it was any different. She thought it was because she was different. That they were. Because of it, she thought his smile was a little reserved and a lot more careful. It broke her heart that this was the result of her hesitance earlier.

  The realisation of it sat in her throat, and she nodded when he told her they could go back to the lodge. Followed him as he led the way. It wasn’t too far away, and she doubted people were paying attention to her anyway. It was that point in the party where people were either too drunk to notice anything they weren’t directly confronted with, or too busy dancing to the music in the hall.

  It didn’t keep the relief away when they arrived at his cabin though. Nor did it keep her from clearing her throat. The emotion still sat there, unfortunately, but her voice was steady enough to ask Ezra if he could fetch her suitcase in the car.

  ‘Any specific one?’

  ‘Yeah, the small one on the back seat.’

  He threw on a T-shirt that had been on his bed and took the keys she offered him. When he left the room, she took it in. It was very much a wooden cabin on the inside, large and spacious, clearly decorated with the winter months in mind. But still, there was an air-conditioning unit above the fireplace, a gorgeous canopy bed in the middle of the room, and a two-seater couch below the window with Ezra’s bag on it.

  Before she could do anything else, she heard the click of the door as Ezra brought in her own bag. She murmured her thanks and took the suitcase with her into the bathroom. Mechanically, she locked the door, threw off the shirt and her underwear, and stepped into the shower.

  She made it under the stream of water just as a sob escaped. She squeezed her eyes shut. It had come out of nowhere, the sound, the urge, and she’d be damned if she gave it free rein. But of course, pure will could only help her keep at bay for so long. She braced her hands against the shower wall, pursed her lips, but couldn’t keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

  Of course her mind wouldn’t allow her to cry in peace. Nor would it allow her to delude herself into thinking that the crying had come from nowhere. She knew the urge had started the moment she and Ezra had been interrupted by that paddling of ducks.

  When she realised how deeply she was falling for him.

  When she realised she didn’t want to say goodbye to him.

  When she realised she had no choice.

  She couldn’t fall in love now. She didn’t have her life in order. Hell, she’d realised only that day that the version of herself she’d been running from had already existed. She’d been shaped by her father’s life. Now, she was shaped by the fact that he was no longer there. Wasn’t that a form of dependence? Having her father dictate, even if it was indirectly, the way she lived?

  Realising that was heart-wrenching. It had just as much of an impact on her emotions as the grief did. It was such a clear sign that she’d been broken even before the grief, too. Which made these feelings she had for Ezra even worse.

  How could she trust them? How could she trust that they weren’t those broken pieces inside her, looking for another person to depend on now that her father wasn’t there anymore? What if those pieces were like magnets, searching for—and recognising, with Ezra—another magnet to be attracted to?

  None of these fears even touched what she’d be going home to with her family. How could she explain that she’d been developing feelings for someone when they didn’t even know she was in the country? She wasn’t sure she’d be able to let go of the guilt of that simple fact, let alone the fact that she’d left at all.

  She’d been right when she’d thought right at the beginning, right when she’d met Ezra, that there was no space for romance in her life. Where would she fit it in? While she was trying to be responsible for her family again? While she was trying to help them in any way she could to make up for leaving them?

  Or would she wait until she had to tell them she was leaving again?

  That last question had emotion rising in her body, threatening to drown her. The grief lapping at her heels, egging on the guilt and shame that had been her constant companions, even when she’d refused to acknowledge them.

  She couldn’t add romantic feelings into that. She couldn’t take something so beautiful, so special and add it into the mess her life had become.

  Because it was special. It was beautiful. It made her want to throw herself into Ezra’s arms. She wanted to sink into the specialness, the beauty of it. Of him. She wasn’t talking about his body, though her mind offered the memory of it to torture her. To add to the burden. She knew it because it didn’t offer her only the memory of the image of his body—the rifts of it that looked as if someone had deliberately and loving carved each of them—but the feel of it.

  Against hers. Pressed until there was no space between them. Until she could feel the ridges under the softness of her own body.

  How he used it to pleasure her. The way his hands kneaded and squeezed the fullness of her. How he angled his body to shield her when he thought someone had caught them. The way his mouth showed her what those damn rats had felt when the Pied Piper had played his tune...

  Torture, she thought again, and something akin to a whimper passed through her lips.

  She straightened then, the sound reminding her too much of someone who was helpless. She might have been a mess, and a little broken, but she was not helpless. She was strong. She could do this. She could walk away from him. From them.

  The thought sent pain washing through her even as the memories rained down on her. The way they’d spoken at his table. How he’d offered to help her. The honest conversations. Their foray into the Christmas parade. The wedding. The nativity play. His laughter after. Their dancing. His smile. His kiss.

  Him, him, him.

  And that was the terrifying part. Her feelings for him didn’t leave any room for uncertainty. They demanded more. They deserved more. And if she paid any attention to her feelings, that more would cause her to stay in Cape Town. To live her life there.

  Wasn’t that exactly what Ezra had done with Liesel? Hadn’t he moved his entire life to a different place to be with her? Look how that had turned out for him.

  Coward.

  No, she denied. She wasn’t a coward. She simply knew that considering—considering—doing this because of her feelings for him was disturbing. It leaned a little too far in the direction of her mother, threatening Angie’s tenuous grasp on her independence.

  So maybe she was being a coward.

  She ignored that thought and took a few deep breaths before making quick work of the rest of the shower. When she was done, she put on yoga pants and a loose T-shirt. She pulled her wet curls into a pineapple on top of her head, telling herself she’d deal with it later.

  If she’d been in her right mind, s
he would have made more effort with her appearance. But she wasn’t. Even if she had been, she was too tired for the effort. She consoled herself with the thought that she shouldn’t be focusing on making herself attractive. She and Ezra didn’t need any more incentive to pick up where they left off in that river.

  Except that when she walked out, she realised it didn’t matter what she wore. Because there was something between her and Ezra that would always be an incentive. A connection, a pull, some kind of Christmas magic that would always leave that hunger, that need on Ezra’s face. That would cause that hunger, that need, to reflect in her own body. As would the emotion. As would the determination to be unaffected by it all.

  What a hopeless pursuit. They would never be unaffected; they’d never even be able to pretend that they were. Which was why she opened her mouth to say something, but he’d already walked into the bathroom with a pile of his own clothing before she was able to formulate the words.

  She sat on the bed. Moved to the couch when that felt too intimate. A voice inside her asked why she didn’t leave. Why she didn’t climb into her car and drive away. But before she’d even fully processed the thought—or the logistics of it, considering her route home was still blocked—she realised she had no desire to hurt him.

  She couldn’t leave while he was showering. That would be the easy option. Which would eventually end up being the worse option. Because she’d done it before, hadn’t she? She’d left before when she’d thought it would be easier. It had taken coming back now to realise how much harder she’d made it for herself.

  She might not have been as completely independent, as completely unbroken, as she thought she was, but Ezra was right. She did learn from her mistakes.

  At least she would learn from this one.

  She curled her legs underneath her body, chewing on her nails as she waited for him to finish in the bathroom.

  A few minutes later, he emerged in a cloud of steam. She stupidly thought it reminded her of a movie. He was the action star, and she was the woman helpless against falling for him. There was no way she’d be a damsel in distress. Even in her current state of mind, she’d kick ass.