by Jen Doyle
“You sure about this?” Jeremy swung the last of the boxes up to the top of the pile.
It was a fairly small pile, because as Simon had come to realize, most of his belongings were clothes and books. Oh, and he had a very nice collection of flasks. But in terms of actual furnishings, most of what he had had been in his family for generations. And he had no interest in taking any of that with him. Of course, even if he did, his mother would probably have him arrested. So there was that.
“I am 100% sure,” he answered, looking around him. And to his surprise, he was.
He’d left Santa Christa expecting never to see Nicki again. Under no scenario could he imagine how to possibly bring her into his life. What had never occurred to him—not once until he’d truly contemplated the prospect of spending the rest of his life without her—was that he’d been approaching it all wrong. He didn’t need to bring her into his life. Hell, he didn’t want to be in his life.
He wanted to be in hers.
Of course, he hadn’t quite expected for it to play out the way it did. He’d planned to take a little time; lay a little groundwork. Make it clear to her that—this time—he’d be coming back for good. But then he’d caught wind of what his mother was planning and all bets were off. This time he was the one who’d nearly gone for the swords. Jeremy had actually had to hold him back. Thank God. He no longer had the money to make bail if he’d been arrested. A bit of an exaggeration, but still…
He’d had to work round the clock to put in motion the things he needed to. His mother was so used to everyone snapping to attention that she was always entirely up front about her plans, however, and since his mind worked the same way hers did, he’d known exactly what he needed to do to stop her. He’d actually had half a mind to initiate divorce proceedings on Nicki’s behalf himself. If it meant breaking up the family’s holdings, so, the fuck, what?
Jeremy’s words, of course.
But he’d taken it a step further. There was nothing he could do about being the primary owner of the family’s properties, whereas his sisters and mother had almost nothing in their names. So he was having the corporate charter changed. There were still a few more loopholes to work through; when all was said and done, however, his sisters would each possess 30% of the shares of the company, whereas he would only hold 10%. With that being the bulk of his usable income—the rest of his money otherwise tied up in various trusts and land holdings—his worth dropped by several zeros. And he was entirely happy with that.
He was even happier that once his solicitor caught wind of what he was truly trying to do, she suggested changing his will as well. Because although the rules of primogeniture meant his mother, a woman, couldn’t change a thing, he had free reign to entail the family’s holdings however he wanted to. And that meant every Grenville who outlived him would forevermore be seen as equal, female or male.
Every Grenville except his mother, that was, whose income was now tied directly to Nicki’s, something that would be reviewed annually by Drew Barnes, Esq. If Simon’s mother ever did anything to harm Nicki in any way, she would suffer the consequences directly. Nicki, who was now a beneficiary whether she became his wife again—which Simon sincerely hoped would happen sooner rather than later—or not.
The front door burst open and Gemma came rushing in. “Oh good. I was afraid I’d missed you.” She threw her arms around him. “Are you sure you have to go? Don’t leave me alone with Mum.”
That was the one thing that he regretted about all of this. He loved his sisters. Gemma was the only one still living at home and he’d spent most of the last nine years making sure she could stay as sweet and kind and innocent as she was. He hated leaving her here. Then again, she was a product of their mother, too. He'd take those odds.
Hugging her tightly, Simon said, “You can come visit me anytime. I’ll ply you with wine.”
“He might need the company,” Jeremy said cheerfully. “Nicki might not take him back.”
Gemma pulled away, wiping her eyes. “Well, she’d be daft not to. And I’m certainly going to be in touch quite a bit. I wasn’t ready for us to have to hire a new CEO.”
True, given that Simon had stepped down a week ago. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d be doing with his time once he returned to California, but he’d had a few promising conversations with Reid Romano. He had no intention of becoming involved in another family business even if they would have him, but there were some interesting possibilities.
The phone started buzzing, and Simon instinctively went to reach for his before remembering that he’d turned it in the day he walked away from his position as head of the family firm.
As Jeremy answered the call, Simon took one last look around. He couldn’t even find it in him to miss this house. It wasn’t until being in Santa Christa that he’d realized the only places he’d considered home were those he’d shared with Nicki.
“You’re kidding,” Jeremy said, a smile coming over his face as one eyebrow went up. He turned his back to Simon, but it wasn’t as if it was hard to make out the words.
“No. Jesus, no. Don’t tell Mommy D. ... Yes, the carriage house. Thanks.”
He powered down his phone as he turned to pick up a couple of boxes. “I’ll just run these out to the van.”
Which was ridiculous. Simon’s funds were no longer unlimited, but he did have enough to hire a removal service. Since he was trying out new things, however, he even decided to move a few out to the van himself.
He was just coming out of the bedroom with another load when he heard the front door open and Gemma cautiously say, “May I help you?”
Expecting to see a big burly mover, Simon nearly dropped the boxes he was holding as he came into the entryway. “Nicki.”
Because there she was, standing in his doorway in jeans and a jacket and hiking boots, the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.
She glanced around the formal space, although Simon had the impression it was more to give herself a moment than because she was actually curious. An odd expression came over her face. “You’re moving?”
Putting the boxes down on the floor just as Jeremy came up behind her, Simon said, “I am.”
Nicki stepped farther into the room. “Where to?”
She still couldn’t look him in the eye—not for more than a second or two.
“California,” he answered, not at all sure of how she’d take that. He smiled cautiously. “I used to have a house there.”
Her head came up abruptly, her mouth forming a little ‘o.’ She even took a step back, although it landed her right up against Jeremy. Startled, she moved to the side. “That... Um... Oh.”
He couldn’t help but ask, “Is that a good ‘oh,’ or a bad ‘oh’?”
He hadn’t quite allowed himself to worry about that. From the things she’d said that last night in Santa Christa, he’d been fairly certain she’d at least be open to the possibility of him returning. But he hadn’t known for sure—and hadn’t planned to address it until he was face to face with her again. Which, apparently, was now.
It took her a few seconds to respond, her gaze slowly coming back up to his. “I guess that depends.” Her hands went into her pockets and her face scrunched up a little. “Why are you moving? More…business interests?”
“No,” he said roughly, his emotions getting the better of him. “It’s entirely personal.” His hand closed over the box in his pocket; the one he’d been carrying around since he bought it, reminding him that he was running to something, not away.
Her lips quirked into a smile, and he felt his heart lurch. His relief was nothing short of profound.
“And why are you here?” he said, his hand tightening around the box. “It’s a little far from home, isn’t it?”
“Well, that’s a perfect segue, actually.” Frowning, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m refusing delivery on your house. I don’t accept it.”
He had to bite his lip in order not to smile. “You can’t do tha
t.” He’d made sure it was airtight.
“And yet I am,” she answered, refusing to back down. She even pulled out a paper that looked very much like the deed to the property and tore it up, letting the pieces fall to the floor. “See?” She brushed her hands together as if wiping them clean.
He looked at the pieces and then back up at her. His smile broke free. “That’s a photocopy.”
After narrowing her eyes at Jeremy as he attempted to cover his laugh with a cough, Nicki nevertheless managed to glare at Simon as he approached. “Drew refused to give me the original.”
Gemma squeaked—her attempt to keep from laughing—which distracted Nicki enough for Simon to close the final distance to her. “Good man.” Yes, Drew was definitely getting whatever business Simon could send his way.
Not wanting to waste a second more, he took Nicki’s face in his hands, and raised her head up to him, although he was almost afraid to kiss her should the spell be broken and he’d find out this was all just some wishful dream.
But this was Nicki, and since he’d already made her question the smoke and mirrors once, it seemed she was taking matters into her own hands. She grasped his waistband and hauled him against her, initiating the kiss herself.
Oh, God, she was sunshine. The most brilliant of lights. She’d been right. She’d been so right.
“I love you,” he said. He couldn’t quite believe how much. And yet there it was.
“I do, too,” she said. “Love you, I mean.” She rested her forehead against his, her hands threading up through his hair and holding tight. “I thought I’d have to do a lot more talking before I got to kiss you again.” She nipped at his lips once more, her hand snaking up the back of his neck.
That was his line. He wrapped his arms around her. He wanted all of her against all of him. “I’m not a billionaire anymore. Jobless, too. You should probably know that.”
Not seeming to mind one bit, she burrowed into his chest. “Well, it turns out I’m a millionaire, apparently, because some idiot refuses to take back his house.”
“I prefer the term fool,” he said, pulling her in even closer. As in besotted. Because that’s what he was and he didn’t care. “There’s just one other thing.” But he couldn’t wait even another minute. Not when she’d come all this way. He tipped her chin up to him. “I hear you’re single again.”
It had been a cause for celebration up in the manor house. His mother had called him over specifically and shown him the newly signed, correctly spelled annulment document, thinking he’d share in her joy. Which he did, although for entirely different reasons.
As Nicki looked at him questioningly, he dropped to one knee.
Her eyes widened. She took hold of his shoulders and tried to pull him up. “What are you doing? We already did this once. It didn’t work.”
The only reason it hadn’t worked was because he’d gotten in his own way. And he’d only recently been able to see that the reason being married to her had felt strange enough to question was because it was the only right thing he’d ever done in his life.
“I know what it’s like not to be with you,” he said, taking her hand, “and I never want to not be with you again. As long as my heart is still beating, I want to be living my life with you. The right way. A real courtship, a real wedding.” In the field behind her house, he hoped. With the sun setting behind her and casting a pink, rosy glow to her cheeks and her dress. “All with you.”
Her breath hitched. She looked into his eyes. “Your mother…”
He held up the box and opened it, glad to see her expression soften as she looked at the ring. The regular-sized—because it had to be to fit his new budget—diamond ring. “…Doesn’t need to be part of this conversation.” She held nothing over them. Not anymore.
Instead of saying yes, Nicki dropped to her knees, too. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” She glared at him. “I assume you saw those pictures?”
Right. The pictures he’d refused to look at again, having seen them years ago. He’d trusted Jeremy to know what to send.
Nicki curled up into him. “That right there is my dating history. There’s no one else for me. I don’t need a ring to prove it.”
“I don’t either,” Simon said, peeling her hand away from his neck and placing the ring on her finger. “But I want one. I don’t want there to be any questions; not this time around. I want everyone to know how much I love the woman I’m marrying.”
“Again,” she murmured, although she didn’t protest any further, throwing her arms around him instead. “The woman you’re marrying again.”
Time stopped. Walls crashed down. “Is that a yes?”
She giggled as she nodded and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Until she rested her forehead against his and said, “Jeremy, if I promise I won’t hurt him, do you think you could leave us alone?”
Not wanting to peel his eyes away from the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with, Simon added, “And I love you Gemma, but would you please go with him?” Already running his hands around to the smooth skin of Nicki’s back, he urgently added, “Now?”
The second the door clicked shut behind them, he had her down to her underwear. One more second later she was down to nothing at all. And right there on the floor of his about-to-be-empty house, they celebrated their engagement.
Twice.
Thank you so much for reading BLUSH! Have you read the other two novellas in the LAKESIDE VINES series? Both CRUSH and BREATHE are now available. In the meantime, if you liked BLUSH, please read on for an excerpt of CALLING IT, the award-winning contemporary, small-town series from Jen Doyle.
About BLUSH
BLUSH
* * *
When what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas…
* * *
Former Las Vegas showgirl Nicki Hollister has a new job, a new home, and a new life. What she doesn’t have is a new man—and she has no interest in finding one. After a whirlwind affair turned disastrous ten years before, she left happily-ever-afters in the desert dust and never looked back. But when the man who left her high and dry in Sin City suddenly appears in Santa Christa, she finds herself remembering the ways he touched her heart before he broke it and she can’t turn away.
* * *
British billionaire mogul Simon Grenville has an almost royal pedigree and the enticing accent to match. When his future is threatened by a quickie marriage that should have been over a decade ago, he’s determined to confront the woman who betrayed him. Except he soon finds out everything wasn’t quite as it seemed. And now the only person who can put his life back on track is the one woman he was never supposed to have.
Excerpt from CALLING IT
They were crucifying him on sports radio. Again. Tonight’s theme was NateGate: Is Baseball’s Hawkins Out For Good? and, considering that he was the Nate Hawkins they were talking about, he was an idiot for listening in the first place.
“So the team’s doctors have just come out and said he’ll be fine to play in the spring, but I have to be honest, Jim. We’re supposed to believe that he’ll be good to go when pitchers and catchers report in less than a month? He’s not a twenty-two-year-old kid anymore. Bones that old don’t heal the way they used to.”
That old? He was thirty-three, for fuck’s sake.
“Marco, I’m not too worried about his knee…”
Exactly. His knee was freaking fine.
“What’s bothering me are the rumors I’m starting to hear about the Breathalyzer test results being faked.”
“Are you shitting me?”
And now he was yelling at the radio.
Perfect. Good thing it was practically the middle of the night and his was the only car on the highway. It would be just his luck to have someone snap a picture of him as he was yelling at his dashboard.
“I mean, the guy’s SUV rolled, what, seven times? That doesn’t just happen. And we’re getting nothing from team management despi
te the fact that they’ve invested a bucketload of money in him, plus nothing from the man himself… Things are not adding up. Let’s go to the phones.”
Listening to guys who were paid to stir up shit was bad enough. But the callers? Hell, no. He had to shut it off.
And yet he let it go on for another fifteen minutes. It was like driving by a wreck on the highway: nearly impossible to turn your head away.
So much for his adoring public. Christ. He was actually grateful to see the red-and-blue lights of a police car flashing behind him. He’d clearly sunk to a new low.
With relief, he shut off the radio and pulled over.
He was reaching for his license when a familiar voice came over the speaker. “You bringing your shitstorm to my town? Get out of the car, Hawkins.”
Nate grinned at the familiar voice, despite the fact that the whole point of fleeing to his mom’s house was to go off the grid for a while. “Tuck,” he said, hand outstretched as they came face-to-face. “Last time I saw you…”
The other man grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Thirteen years ago?” Tuck said. “Damn, you and Wash were on fire during that game. Don’t get me wrong, watching you behind home plate isn’t a chore. But seeing you on the court…”
Nate worked hard at not letting his smile fade as he allowed the words to die their own quiet death. He had enough on his plate without inviting the past to edge its way in, too.
After a moment, Tuck shrugged. “Guess basketball wasn’t the same without your boys behind you.”
His ‘boys.’ Right. Wash, Jason, Deke and Cal, teammates who had been as close as brothers, but with whom Nate had barely spoken in over two years. New subject. “I thought you moved to Denver. I didn’t know you were back.”
“No reason you would.” Tuck’s eyes dropped, a standard reaction these days. “You’ve been a bit preoccupied.”
