by Donna Alward
But she couldn’t spend her whole life seeking approval from someone else. She knew that now. It was time for her to stand up for herself. To make her own happiness. She straightened her shoulders. She’d make the best of it and move forward.
“I insist on staying the week,” she said clearly. “I did not receive notification that our booking was cancelled, and I have flown all the way from Ottawa. I have no intention of going back.” She leveled a gaze at him, hoping that she appeared to mean business when inside she was trembling. He had to let her stay. The savings she had put aside were what she had been planning to use as a security deposit for a new, cheaper apartment, necessary now that she no longer had her well-paid job with Antoine. But there was pride at stake here and she relaxed her shoulders, determined to see it through.
The man’s jaw hardened and his dark eyes glittered at her sharp command. “I am sorry, but we simply are not prepared for guests. I can arrange for you to go back to San Antonio de Areco. There is a hotel there. Or perhaps back to Buenos Aires.”
Which sounded lovely, she supposed. Her gaze caught the strange tree again. It gave her a strong yet peaceful feeling. This place wouldn’t be so bad. She would have time to relax and recharge. Besides, there was something in his dismissive tone that put her on edge. He was telling her what to do, and at some point she had to take charge of her own life. She’d been a people pleaser for years, always trying to do the right thing, not to create waves. This time it was up to her.
“But I want to stay here,” she insisted firmly.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, calling her bluff. “I could see it on your face from the first moment. It is fine. Estancia life is not for everyone.” He cast a disdainful look at her handbag and shoes. “Obviously.”
Sophia gritted her teeth. He didn’t think she could handle it? Obviously he hadn’t ever been mobbed by the press at Parliament Hill or been surprised by a photographer shoving a camera in her face outside a downtown club and taunting her about political scandal.
“I insist,” she replied. She looked around her at the plain surroundings. “Unless you can provide proof of the refund. In which case I am happy to pay the going rate if I am wrong.”
Consternation showed on the man’s face. She couldn’t bring herself to back down an inch even though the prospect of spending her savings made her blanch. She was doing all she could just to keep it together. She wanted him to let her stay. Not just to prove something to Antoine, who probably couldn’t care less. No, to prove something to herself. And most of all at this moment she wanted to be shown to her room, so she could close the door and decompress. Her legs suddenly felt weary—was it jet lag? And she had the oddest urge to cry. She was so tired. Tired of everything. Something had to give sooner or later and she really hoped that when it did, it would be in private. The past months seemed to catch up to her all at once, and she refused to cry in public.
The man stared at her for a moment, making her squirm inside. “I will try to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, you’d better come in.”
It wasn’t exactly gracious, but Sophia felt weak with relief. Surely there was someone inside who could help her with her bags while this…man went back to work. If they were running an estancia, someone must be here to cook and clean and make sure the amenities were looked after. It didn’t have to be fancy. A simple glass of wine and a hot meal would be most welcome.
Sophia held out her hand. “I’m Sophia Hollingsworth.”
“Tomas Mendoza.”
He took her hand in his and something twisted inside her, something delicious and unexpected. His hand was indeed firm, with slight callouses along the pads of his fingers. It was also warm and strong, and it enveloped her smaller, perfectly manicured one completely. It was a working man’s hand, she realized. Honest. Capable.
“Miss Hollingsworth, I do not know if you realize what you’re asking. Since we are shut down for another few weeks, the regular hosts of the estancia are away.”
She waited, not exactly sure what he meant.
He pulled his hand away from hers. “Maria and Carlos Rodriguez normally run the place,” he explained. “While I finish overseeing the repairs, they’ve gone to Córdoba to visit their son, Miguel. I will have to check the paperwork in the office for your reservation. At the same time, I need to make it clear that while they are away the full amenities are not available.”
Dear Lord. So she was stuck here with a handyman? And who was to blame? Herself. Why hadn’t she followed up before coming all this way? Another mistake to add to the list.
“And your job?”
He nodded at her. “I do what needs doing. I work with Carlos with the stock. Fix things. Do the trail rides.”
Trail rides? Would he expect her to do that?
“One of our selling points is an authentic estancia experience. Our guests are encouraged to work alongside us.”
She swallowed. If she backed out now she’d be giving in. Moreover, he’d know it. From deep inside came a need to rise to the challenge. But, for right now, the afternoon sun beat down on Sophia’s head and she grew more tired by the moment. “Could you just show me to a room for now? I’m feeling quite hot. The air conditioning was broken in the taxi, and I’m really just trying to make sense of what’s happened today.”
“Certainly.”
Tomas picked up two of her large cases, leaving the third, smaller carry-on, for Sophia. She put the strap over her shoulder and followed him along the gravel to the patio. He opened the front door and stepped inside, tugging her luggage in behind him.
For better or for worse, this was where she would be for the next week.
It could only get better from here, right? It would be what she made of it. She reminded herself of that fact as she followed Tomas down a hall and around a corner to her bedroom. His earlier polite smile had been replaced by a cool, emotionless expression. “You should be comfortable here,” he said stiffly, opening the door to a room and then stepping back to let her pass. She stepped inside and instantly felt the stress of the last few months drain away.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.” It was simple and certainly no luxury suite. But it was brilliantly clean, meticulously cared for and suited her perfectly. The walls were pristine white, looking as though they’d been newly painted, and she immediately went to the open window that looked out over the grassy plain, stretching endlessly to the south. The air was clean, free of pollution and smog, and it refreshed her. More than that, the place was private, and privacy was something she craved quite desperately.
The bed was gorgeous, an intricately patterned iron bedstead adorned with linens the soothing colour of a summer sky. A basket of towels and toiletries sat on a low dresser, the plush cotton the same blue as the bedspread. Right now all she wanted was to sink into the bed’s softness and let the stress of the day drain away.
She turned back to Tomas, suddenly aware that they were standing in what was now her bedroom. The silence stretched out awkwardly. There was nothing inappropriate about being in here with him. He was filling the role of concierge and apparently so much more. So why did she suddenly feel so self-conscious?
“What a lovely room.”
“I am pleased you like it.” The hard gleam in his eyes softened just a bit, as if her approval validated her in some way. As soon as she glimpsed it, the gleam disappeared.
What would it take to win him over? It was going to be a very long week if this was the extent of their conversation.
“It’s so peaceful. Listen.” She went to the window again, trying to escape his keen gaze. She pushed aside the curtain with a hand, looking out, leaning her head back so that the warm breeze caressed her throat. “Do you hear that?”
He came closer behind her, so close she could feel his presence by her shoulder even though he had to be several inches away. “Hear what?”
She laughed then, a carefree, feel-good laugh that she felt clear to her toes. The sound was unfamiliar to her
ears, but very, very welcome. Suddenly the situation didn’t seem so catastrophic. She had no one to please but herself this week. “That’s just it. Nothing. I hear nothing, and it’s wonderful.” She closed her eyes and let the sunshine and wind bathe her face.
When she turned back around, the severe look on his face had disappeared. He understood, she realized. That took away the self-conscious part of being alone with him but left in its wake the flicker of attraction she’d felt when holding his hand. A flicker she wasn’t sure what to do with.
She needed to escape his gaze and the nearness of him, so she moved to the dresser to touch the towels and trail her fingers over the wood. It was slightly scarred and Sophia loved how the markings added character to the piece. This was no sterile hotel room without a wrinkle or scratch. It wasn’t about perfection. It had a level of familiarity and comfort that simply said home. The kind of home she’d secretly always wished for and had never had.
“That’s the idea,” he replied. “The city has its charms. But sometimes a person needs to get away to where things are…” he broke off the sentence, and Sophia wondered what he had been going to say. The impression she got was that big problems became small ones here. She found herself curious about him. Who was Tomas Mendoza? Why did this simple life hold such allure to him?
“Less complicated?”
Tomas stared out of the window as the moment drew on. “Yes, less complicated,” he confirmed, but Sophia didn’t feel reassured. Had his life been complicated once? For all his good looks, there was a wall around him, as though no matter what, he would keep people at arms’ length. He was impossible to read.
“Just leave the bags,” Sophia suggested. “I think I would like to freshen up and have a nap.”
Sophia shouldered her tote bag and was just reaching for one of her suitcases when the tote slipped off her shoulder, catching on her elbow and knocking her off balance. Her heel caught as her right toe snubbed the edge of her biggest case and she lurched forward.
Straight into Tomas’s arms.
He caught her effortlessly, his strong arms cinched around her as he righted her on her feet. Without thinking, she looked up. It was a mistake. Her cheeks flamed as she realized his hand was pressed firmly against her lower back. It was tempting, having her body pressed close to his, but the real trouble was the way their gazes clashed. She had not been held in such an intimate embrace for a long time, and never with the nerve-tingling effect she was suffering now. A muscle in Tomas’s jaw tightened and Sophia’s breathing was so shallow her chest cramped. For a breath of a moment she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Really, truly kissed.
And behind that thought came the intimate realization that for the next several days, it was just the two of them here.
The thought tempted but also made her draw back. There was making a statement of independence by taking this trip alone, and then there was just being foolish. This was not why she had come. A holiday fling was not what she was looking for. She pushed away and out of his arms and straightened her blouse.
“In addition to poor fact checking, I think we can safely add klutz to my list of faults today,” she joked, but the quip fell flat as she saw the wrinkle between his brows form once more.
“I hope not,” he answered, pushing her suitcase into place at the end of the bed and straightening into that damnable rigid posture once more. “This is a working ranch, Miss Hollingsworth.” He’d reverted to her formal English name again, backing away. “The Vista del Cielo was established to give guests an authentic gaucho experience. Our guests live like the locals for the duration of their stay. In the absence of our other facilities, I do hope you take advantage of all the estancia has to offer.” Once again he looked at her shoes, then up at her tidy skirt and linen blouse, which was now wrinkled beyond recognition. “I hope you’ve brought other more…appropriate clothing.”
Sophia felt like an idiot. She’d been so sure and so blindly determined to soak up every entitled minute that she’d thrown her best things in her luggage and jetted off. Now this gaucho was issuing a challenge. She hated the indulgent way he looked at her clothes. She’d show him. She’d do everything on his damned list of activities!
She sniffed. It wasn’t as if she made a habit of falling down all the time, or worse, falling into men. She wasn’t incapable. But he had hit on yet another obstacle—her suitcases were packed with totally inappropriate clothing. Bathing suits for lounging around a pool, a selection of skirts and dresses, all with matching shoes for Michelin-starred dinners with a view. This wasn’t Tomas’s fault. It was hers, for not being more thorough. If she’d known what sort of establishment this was, she would have packed the proper things. Sometimes she felt as if she could do nothing right. She trusted in all the wrong things instead of relying on herself.
If she were determined to change, why not start now? She could fake it until she made it, right? She would show this Tomas that she could take on anything he dished out.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she replied, desperate to save face. Did helping out also mean horseback-riding? She felt herself go pale at the thought. She’d ridden a horse exactly twice in her life. The first time the mare had been led by her halter. The second time had been a few years later when a friend at school had asked her to an afternoon at a local stables where she took lessons. That time Sophia had held the reins. She’d managed a very choppy trot but had nearly panicked when the horse had broken into a canter. She thought she was probably twelve when that had happened.
But she wasn’t twelve any longer. She could handle herself better this time. She didn’t want to look like a fool in front of him. Not when he looked so very perfect.
“First I think I would like to rest,” she suggested, putting reality off a little while longer. When the time came, she’d go with him and she’d do just fine. “It has been a long flight and drive.”
“Very well. While you are resting, I’ll see what I can find out about this mistaken reservation.”
His insistence that she was wrong grated. “Mr. Mendoza…”
He paused by the door and looked back at her. “Yes?”
She gave him her sweetest smile. “I appreciate you accommodating me during an inconvenient time for you. I do apologize for the disruption.”
She tried a smile, an olive branch to smooth the way for the next few days. She knew that aggravating one’s host—especially a host who was already less than cordial—wasn’t the way to get the best service.
“Dinner is at seven,” he replied, unsmiling, and shut the door behind him.
In a fit of juvenile satisfaction, Sophia stuck her tongue out at the door before collapsing on the bed.
CHAPTER TWO
TOMAS had planned on a quick meal for one tonight but instead found himself making locro—a stew of beans, meat, corn and pumpkin. It was simple enough to make and something typically Argentinian for his guest.
Guest. He snorted, stirring the stew. What a mix-up. The first thing he’d done was check the books, but no notation had been made next to the name Antoine Doucette. Then he’d called Miguel’s number in Córdoba. Maria remembered the reservation, but couldn’t remember if she’d cancelled it. Tomas hadn’t pushed; Maria was still traumatized by the fire. When Miguel had suggested they visit, Tomas and Carlos had agreed it would be good for Maria to get away for a few days. Tomas wanted her to see things nearly as good as new when she came back. The spa building had to be reconstructed, but the other outbuildings were nearly repaired. If things went well, they could even have the pool refilled and working in another week.
But it was Maria’s words to him today that had caused him the most trouble. He’d explained the situation and Maria had instantly been sympathetic to Sophia’s plight. “Take care of that girl, Tomas,” she said firmly. Then she’d laughed. “She must be a real firecracker to take her honeymoon alone. She’s your responsibility now. You will see to things until we return.”
As if he
needed reminding. He chopped into the pumpkin, scowling. Maria had been mothering him for so long that she sometimes forgot he was a grown man. He knew what his responsibilities were. They were impossible to forget.
“We’ll sort the rest out when Carlos and I come back. Maybe we’ll come Wednesday now.”
“There’s no need…”
But Maria had laughed. “She will be tired of your cooking by then. Wednesday. Just be nice, Tomas.”
“I would never…”
“Yes, you would.” Maria had laughed, but he knew she meant it. Maria and her family knew Tomas better than anyone else on earth. Too well.
Wednesday. That meant he had three days after today in which he not only had to do his work, but had to entertain Sophia as well. She’d put on a brave face, but he knew she had been expecting something totally different from what she was getting. He indulged in a half smile, but then remembered the look on her face when she’d thought he was going to send her away. She had been afraid behind all the lipstick and talk. And he had been just stupid enough to see it and go soft.
He turned down the heat and put the cover on to let the locro simmer. Going soft wasn’t an option for him right now. The estancia wasn’t due to reopen for another few weeks. There was still work to do—and lots of it. The boutique had to be restocked now that it was painted. The horses and the small beef herd Carlos raised still needed to be cared for. The storage shed behind the barn had been rebuilt since the fire, but the paint for the exterior was sitting in the barn, waiting for Tomas to have a few spare moments. As if. And the builders had had another job lined up, which was why it was taking longer for the pool house to be rebuilt.
With Carlos here, they could have muddled through just fine. But they’d agreed that getting Maria away for a few days—letting her visit her son—was a better course of action.
