by R. J. Groves
God, she was like a spider closing in on an insect stuck in her web. He held onto her wrists, his eyes darting to somewhere behind her in time to see Andie duck out a side door, wine in her hand.
‘Isabelle, how many times do I need to—’
He broke off as his eyes followed another figure heading towards the room. The pimply guy she’d been sitting next to, whose snorts he’d heard from across the room. He racked his brain. Nothing was in that room. Why would she go in there? And why was that pimply prick following her? He felt his blood rush and nudged Isabelle to the side, beelining to the room.
He’d felt her watching him all night. He’d felt the surge of electricity pulse through him when he held her gaze. Why would she go suspiciously to another room? Was she hooking up with zit-face? Like hell she was. He’d been about to push the door open when the douchebag came out of the room, seemingly unfazed, though a little startled to see Taylor standing there.
‘Evening, boss. Lovely wedding, isn’t it?’
Tay frowned at him. ‘Who are you?’ He’d lost all ability to pretend to know these people. The guy faltered.
‘Artie,’ the guy said. ‘You’d know me as one of the IT guys.’ Tay’s frown deepened. Why would an IT guy be at his sister’s wedding? Artie shifted uncomfortably. ‘Also, one of Connor’s cousins. Billy’s younger brother.’
Tay felt himself relax. If he was related to Connor, he couldn’t be that bad, could he? He hadn’t been in the room long enough to do anything with Andie. Maybe he’d simply been checking on her. He made up an excuse and nudged past him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, the room was, indeed, empty. He moved towards the centre of the room, scanning along all the walls.
Empty.
And one door—the one he’d just come in through. He hadn’t seen her leave, and she couldn’t have squeezed past him and Artie without him noticing. His heart pounded against his chest so hard he could practically hear it. Had he mistaken which door she’d come through? Impossible. He’d been spending so much time here he could find anything with his eyes closed. He looked for anywhere that she could have gone, scanning the room to make sure she couldn’t be hiding. He stamped his foot and swore. Where the hell was she? Turning on his heel to leave and see if there was any way he could be mistaken, he felt a body slam against his, thin arms winding around his neck, lips pressed hard against his.
The hell?
Her smell hit him before he noticed the blonde hair. The smell that was nothing like Andie Gray’s, the kisses that couldn’t even compare. He thought he heard a gasp from somewhere in the room, but thought it must be the frustrating woman trying to get him to respond.
He grasped her by the shoulder and yanked her away from him. ‘The hell, Isabelle?’
‘Come on, Tay,’ she drawled. ‘You want it as much as I do. There’s no point denying it.’ She tried to nudge closer, her lips pursed, but he held her at arm’s length. God, it looked pathetic.
‘Isabelle, you’re pretty, and confident, and you can have anyone you want,’ he said, meaning it. Isabelle’s eyes fluttered again. ‘Except me.’
He refrained from telling her to get it through her thick head. Her shoulders slumped beneath his grip, her expression disappointed. ‘But I thought you were happy,’ she whispered.
‘It’s my sister’s wedding,’ he said, emphasising each word. ‘Of course I’m happy. But this’—he indicated between them—‘is never going to happen. I’ve told you that before, and it hasn’t changed.’
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she stomped her foot. She started stringing off lines of abuse, but he shrugged it off. She could hate him all she wanted—he’d prefer it, actually—but it wasn’t going to change the fact that he would never think of her the way she wanted him to. He watched her storm off, leaving him alone in the room. He took a few deep breaths, searching his brain. Would he ever get a chance to see Andie again? If he didn’t see her that night, he wasn’t sure he ever would. He could always drop in to her work, he supposed. But she’d hidden from him there before, she could do it again.
He ran a hand through his hair and headed back towards the door, pausing when he heard the shatter of glass breaking. He felt a leap in his chest, hope surging through him, a smile creeping onto his face. He wasn’t alone, after all.
Chapter 30
Andie squeezed her eyes shut, the threatening tears burning her eyes.
Taylor and Isabelle kissed. She’d suspected something was going on between them. But then, while the humming in her ears eased, she heard Isabelle chucking a fit. She did not look happy. What had Taylor said to her? God, she wished she hadn’t looked away and blocked her ears, hoping that she wouldn’t hear anything she shouldn’t.
Her heart felt like it was tearing apart again. The way Isabelle had stormed off implied that nothing was happening between them—at least not on Taylor’s end. But it didn’t mean he hadn’t moved on from Andie. If he’d ever needed to move on. No doubt he’d been putting out his usual Taylor Ballin vibes in all directions. If he hadn’t come into the room to meet with Isabelle, then why was he in there? Surely, he wasn’t there for her… was he?
She’d stayed as still as she could, hoping that crouching behind the pot plant hid her enough in the semi-darkened room. And she’d almost managed to go unnoticed. Then she felt something move against her arm as she lowered it and jerked back out of habit, knocking over the wineglass she’d put on the floor beside her. She grimaced, hoping that, for some reason, he hadn’t heard the shattering glass echo through the empty room.
But his footsteps stopped. He’d heard. She squinted through the plant, nudging a frond to the side to see him better. His back was towards her, and his shoulders were slumped, yet somehow still stiff. His head turned to the side, and she saw the silhouette of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
‘Andie?’
She bit into her lip, willing herself not to speak. Seeing how easily he could move on had made her raw again. She’d been semi-confident coming to the wedding, but seeing him only made her want to protect herself. She was right to want to protect herself, wasn’t she? She’d once been convinced nothing could ever happen between her and Taylor Ballin. Surely that was still the case. Surely nothing had changed.
She heard a few deliberate steps as he turned. He was directly facing her now. She let the frond fall back into place, then realised with an ache that it would have only given away her position.
‘Andie, I know you’re there.’
She swallowed hard, feeling her head spin. The air was being sucked out of this room. That, or the wine was going to her head.
‘Come out.’
Resigned, and feeling like a child, she stood, peeked out from behind the pot plant and stumbled towards him. ‘Mr Ballin,’ she said curtly. ‘I didn’t realise you were here.’
She thought it sounded clear, controlled, but the way his lips flickered up in an amused smile told her otherwise. Damn it. If she hadn’t had that last glass so quickly … She came to a stop near him, obviously a lot closer than she thought, since his hands shot out to steady her.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered, feeling her head spin more. Was this room completely deprived of oxygen? ‘Is it … is it h—hot in here?’
‘No.’ He frowned, holding her elbow as she swayed again. The door swung open, and the noise of the ongoing party swept into the room. He nudged her towards the door, sliding an arm around her waist to steady her. ‘Come with me. We’ll get some air.’
She followed, or rather let him guide her, across the dance floor and through the gorgeous French doors that led outside. His grip tightened as she sucked in what felt like the first bit of oxygen she’d had all day. He sat her down on the edge of a brick retaining wall and told her to stay put while he ducked back inside. She didn’t move, afraid that she’d fall over if she did. He returned with a bottle of water and presented it to her.
‘Drink.’
She did. As much as she could until t
he wave of nausea slowly started leaving her. She wasn’t sure how long they sat in silence, but every time she glanced up at him, he was watching her. His brow furrowed. His lips pressed tightly together.
‘So, you and Isabelle, huh?’ she said, a feeble attempt at humour that only made the tension tighter between them.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘She … no.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbows on his knees.
The breeze picked up, and her body shivered involuntarily. She hoped he didn’t notice, but he sat up straighter.
‘You’re cold.’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, shivering again.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket—the one she’d made for him—and draped it around her shoulders. She felt warmer almost instantly. It smelled of him. A soothing scent that helped bring her back to her senses. The music continued inside, and they remained sitting until she’d finished the bottle of water. The world around her stopped spinning, and she suddenly felt solemn. How could she have ever let him affect her this way? She held the jacket tighter around her, breathing him in, a longing ache burning in her belly. She’d missed him so much. And now he was sitting next to her, and they’d barely spoken a word.
‘I should g—’ she started.
‘Do you want to go for a walk?’
His grey eyes burned into her. They were lighter than usual, seemingly filled with an ache that matched how she felt. Or perhaps that was the wine talking. Unable to form words, she nodded. He rose, helped her to her feet and walked beside her. She stumbled a few steps, still finding her footing. His hand slipped around her waist again, guiding her, holding her upright. He led her towards the rows of grapevines. His touch burned through her, reminding her of where those hands had been. How they’d brought her such pleasure. She swallowed the lump in her throat, the thought sobering.
‘I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you,’ he started. ‘I wanted to—’
‘Taylor—’
‘I’m sorry.’ He paused, and since he was guiding her, she stopped too. He turned her to face him. ‘There’s no excuse for what I did. It’s not because I didn’t trust you, it’s just who I am. I—I had to know.’
The reminder hit hard, and she shook his hand off her waist, certain she could hold herself upright again. ‘It’s not enough,’ she whispered. She caught a glimpse of pain flash across his face in the moonlight. ‘I trusted that you would wait for me to tell you everything, and you went and—and looked into my history.’ She held up a hand when he made to speak. ‘I know, you looked into Joseph, not me, but he was my history. My story to share with you. Not Phil Clayton’s. You broke my trust. I can’t just forget that.’
‘I’m not asking you to,’ he said, reaching out to her. He ran a hand down her arm, leaving a blazing trail of fire, even through his jacket, until he reached her hand. He entwined his fingers with hers. ‘I just need to know that I haven’t messed up so badly you can’t ever forgive me.’
She swallowed, remembering Joey’s reminder that she’d looked into Joseph. What would she have done if everything had come back all right? And if he’d found out that she’d looked into him? Would she not have tried to do what Taylor was doing now? Her shoulders slumped. He deserved that much, didn’t he? Forgiveness?
‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I can’t just go back to trusting you again. Not how I did before.’
His head tilted to the side, a look she couldn’t quite discern on his face. Relief? Surprise? His hand squeezed hers. ‘You really trusted me?’
She frowned. Was she not supposed to? Had it been one of the unspoken rules of their exclusively casual relationship? She nodded. She’d tried to talk herself out of trusting him, but it had been inevitable in the end. He swore, running a hand over his chin. Her fingers itched to feel the soft stubble against them.
‘I’m sorry, Andie, I really am. I—’ He took in a shaky breath. ‘—I don’t trust easily. At all. I guess I figured no one could trust me either.’
She felt it like it was a punch in her gut. ‘You never trusted me, did you?’
‘I didn’t know how to,’ he admitted.
She felt herself take a step backwards. What was she doing? She’d been willing to patch things up between them, and now he was telling her he didn’t know how to trust her? Would he ever trust her? She felt a tear roll down her cheek and released his hand to swipe at it.
‘Andie.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry, Taylor,’ she muttered, disbelief filling her again. God, she’d been such a fool. ‘Trust is important to me. I can’t—’ She choked on a tear, turning her back towards him, taking in the view of the vineyard.
She’d once thought magic happened here.
The beautiful vineyard in Darlington, the one that had been the start of all her hopes and dreams. And the end of them. She’d been a fool for most of her life. She swiped at another tear, and heard a shuffle behind her. She wondered if he’d headed back towards the reception, to party on as though nothing happened. There was no shortage of single ladies at the wedding. He was sure to find someone.
A silent sob wracked her body. She felt so alone. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she realised he’d never left.
‘Ten years ago, I thought I loved someone.’
She swiped at another tear, forcing her body to stop shaking. His voice wavered as he spoke, catching her by surprise. She kept her back towards him. He sighed, his breath shaking. Taylor Ballin, nervous?
‘She … she was exciting, adventurous. And a mistress of deception.’
She pulled the jacket tighter, lifting it to her chin, breathing him in. She was scared to say anything in case he stopped talking. Was he opening up to her? Trusting her? Why now?
‘I was different back then, Andie.’ His voice was pleading, begging for her to understand. ‘I was young, naive. Seduction was her thing, and she had a hold on me. She could have talked me into anything.’
She bit into her lip, unsure of whether or not she wanted to hear about some beautiful woman he’d once loved. She closed her eyes, seeing the story play out in her imagination. He was in love with her. She broke his heart. Maybe cheated on him. He took it badly, could never trust again.
‘She framed me.’ Her eyes shot open, and she turned towards him. He’d said it so matter-of-factly. ‘The whole time, she’d been planning a theft at the jewellery store where she worked. She took me inside one night, told me to wait for her, and next thing I knew, I was forced to the ground with cuffs on my wrists.’
Shit.
She had not seen that coming.
‘She’d slipped something into my pocket when she kissed me. I didn’t know what it was, but it was clearly valuable. The cops found it and took me in.’ He let out a big breath, glancing towards the vineyard behind her, his expression hard as stone. ‘They were convinced I’d go to jail for it.’
‘And her?’ She barely heard the words escape her lips.
‘Made off with thousands of dollars’ worth of jewellery and cash. Nowhere to be seen.’
‘H—how did you—’
‘My father bailed me out,’ he said, his fists balling beside him. ‘He wasn’t convinced that I didn’t do it, but he thought it would ruin his business if I was convicted. He got the best lawyers in Australia and managed to get me off with community service. I worked in a soup kitchen for months, and he was so embarrassed about me, he pretty well cut me off. It gave me an appreciation for how little some people have and showed me I needed to straighten myself out. I’ve volunteered there every Sunday since.’
Slowly, the pieces were slotting into place. Why he had trouble trusting, where he went on Sunday nights. Why he didn’t let many people close.
‘She was the only person who’d ever made me lose control. Until I met you.’
She swallowed. Was he saying she was like his ex? As if reading her thoughts, he continued.
‘You’re nothing like Tru
dy. Very, very different. But it was the way I’d lose control around you that worried me. It seemed odd that you had a booking at the venue that you suddenly didn’t need anymore. I … I freaked out. I overreacted. And I had to make sure you weren’t going to get me in trouble like she did because I wouldn’t have got away with it again. I already have a criminal record because of her. If something else happened, I wouldn’t get off lightly. Tell me you understand, Andie. Please.’
She nodded slowly. Weirdly, she did understand. She wasn’t sure how, exactly, she’d made him lose control, or how she could have come across as a con artist, but his wariness to trust made sense.
‘You own the company, though,’ she said.
‘I worked my way up from the bottom, despite the fact that my father was a founder. When he passed away he left it to Libby, who had never worked a day in the business. She didn’t want it, said it was supposed to be mine, and signed it over to me, even when I told her she didn’t have to, that I could help her run it.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’
He studied her a moment, nothing between them but the distant sounds of the celebration carrying over the vineyard.
‘Because I trust you.’
His voice smoothed over her like silk. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted it. But just because he’d told her why he had trouble trusting, or that he trusted her now when he didn’t before, didn’t mean that she could suddenly trust him again. She dropped her head, staring at the ground between them. She’d missed him so much. But trust wasn’t something she took lightly.
But at least this could be a stepping stone.
‘I more than trust you.’
She glanced up at him again, surprised. How could he more than trust her? He took a step closer. She could practically feel the heat of his body leaping the gap between them, engulfing her.
‘I’ve wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, Andie.’ His voice was calm, low, and seemed to resonate through her. She could feel her knees weakening. ‘The nightmares stopped when you were with me. And it terrified me.’ He let out a light chuckle that made her heart pound against her chest. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, his fingertips lingering and sending little shocks through her body. ‘I freaked out. I fucked up. I was trying to keep control when I should have been handing you the reins.’