Undeniable: A Cloverleigh Farms Standalone

by Melanie Harlow

  “You knew what the weather was like when you got dressed,” I said irritably, putting my SUV in park. “This is northern Michigan. We get snow in December.”

  “I know, Oliver. I’m from Kenilworth, not Kenya.”

  Leaving the keys in the ignition, I nodded tersely at the valet and went around to the passenger side. A second attendant had opened Alison’s door, and I helped her out. “They put salt down, so it shouldn’t be too icy.”

  “Great,” she said sarcastically, eyeing the walk leading to the front door of the inn. “That’s even worse for my shoes.”

  Jesus fucking Christ, I thought, carefully leading her toward the door. It’s a ten-foot walk. Do you want me to carry you?

  “I don’t even know why we’re here. Who are these people again?” she asked for the hundredth time.

  I clenched my jaw. “John and Daphne Sawyer. They own Cloverleigh Farms.”

  “And how do you know them?”

  “Daphne and my mother grew up together. They’ve been best friends for fifty years.” I held the door open for her. “Our families have always been close.”

  “Do they have kids?”

  “Five daughters. Sylvia, April, Meg, Frannie, and Chloe.”

  I hadn’t spoken to Chloe since she left my Chicago hotel room four years ago, and saying her name out loud made me feel a little strange. Would it be awkward seeing her tonight? Was she still mad? I’d tried reaching out after I’d come home from Europe, but judging from the expletive-heavy response to my hey, how are you text message, she was still pretty pissed. I’d never seen so many F-bombs in one sentence.

  “Are any of the daughters married?” Alison glanced at the engagement ring on her finger as I pulled open the heavy front door.

  “Only Sylvia, the oldest.” I could tell by the look on her face she felt some kind of victory in her pre-marital status, as if the diamond on her finger made her a better person.

  Once inside, we checked our coats and greeted the Sawyers, who stood chatting with my parents by the fireplace. I introduced them to Alison, and felt bad when Aunt Daphne tried to hug her and my fiancée remained stiff. Alison wasn’t really a hugger. It didn’t bother me, since I wasn’t particularly inclined to be affectionate with her. Alison was perfect on paper, nearly a carbon copy of Hughie’s wife, in fact, but I wasn’t in love with her. The idea of her made my family happy—it reassured them that I was finally settling down—but mostly she drove me nuts.

  April Sawyer came over to say hello, and I kissed her cheek. “Good to see you, April. This is Alison.”

  “His fiancée,” Alison informed her, holding out a pale, manicured hand.

  “Of course.” April smiled warmly at her and glanced at the ring. “So nice to meet you, and congratulations on your engagement.”

  “Thank you. We’re very happy.” Alison gave me a look like I was a dog who hadn’t performed a trick when prompted.

  “I need a drink,” I said. “Can I get either of you anything?”

  “I’m fine,” April said. “But order anything you like at the bar.”

  “I’ll take a glass of wine.” Alison looked around at the guests, mostly family, close friends, and employees of Cloverleigh. I could totally imagine her sizing everyone up, judging them by what they wore. Things like labels mattered to her.

  “We have great wine here,” said April. “Oliver, take her into the bar and check out the new renovations.”

  “I’ll do that, thanks.” I took Alison’s arm, mostly because she expected me to, and led her into the restaurant. The bar was over to one side, and I immediately spotted Chloe standing at it with friends. She held a drink in her hand, and she was laughing at something someone had said, her face all lit up.

  She was even more beautiful than I remembered, and I remembered her a lot.

  It wasn’t even on purpose. Thinking about Chloe made me feel shitty—I knew I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I had no good excuse. I’d tried, over the last few years, to pinpoint exactly what it was that made me abandon her that way, and I hadn’t come up with one good reason except … I was an immature jackass and not ready to take anything seriously. But she’d always known that about me, hadn’t she? And really, we hadn’t made any promises to each other. We’d just tossed around some ideas. She couldn’t hold it against me forever.

  Avoiding her for now, I steered Alison toward the opposite end of the bar, barely noticing the renovations April had mentioned.

  “What’s wrong?” Alison asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Nothing.” I cleared my throat and faced the bartender. “What kind of red wine do you have?”

  He listed some of Cloverleigh’s varietals.

  “Are they all from Michigan?” Alison asked, turning up her nose.

  It made me angry, but rather than defend the merits of Michigan wine, I bit my tongue. While the bartender went through additional choices, I snuck a glance at Chloe over Alison’s shoulder. She was still smiling, and her dimples made my pulse quicken. Goddammit, why wasn’t it me making her laugh?

  “Oliver?”

  I looked at Alison and blinked. “What?”

  “What do you want to drink?” She pointed her nose at the bartender, who had clearly been waiting for my order.

  “Oh, sorry.” Scanning the shelves behind the bar—I wasn’t surprised to note they held no Brown Eyed Girl spirits—I ordered a Kentucky bourbon and told myself not to look at Chloe again.

  But the moment Alison started glancing around and listing all the reasons why she wouldn’t hold a wedding here—too small, too dark, too rustic—I found it impossible not to let my eyes wander over her shoulder again.

  This time, Chloe spotted me. I knew the moment it happened, because the grin slid right off her face, and her entire demeanor changed. Her posture went stiff. Her eyes narrowed. She pressed her lips together. Tension hummed in the air between us, and beneath my suit, gooseflesh prickled over my skin.

  She looked back at the person she’d been talking to, and I attempted to refocus on Alison. But even after our drinks arrived and I took a few big swallows to steady my nerves, I could not keep my eyes where they were supposed to be.

  Alison finally complained. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. And who on earth do you keep looking at behind me?”

  “No one.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, and I swear to God she used some kind of black-magic, sixth-sense bullshit to zero right in on Chloe. “Who is she?”

  I played dumb. “Who?”

  She focused on me with laser-like intensity. “That girl you were looking at with the dark hair in the short black dress.”

  I pretended to look for the woman in question. “You mean Chloe?”

  “I don’t know, Oliver,” she snapped. “Do I mean Chloe?”

  “I think so. She’s one of the Sawyer sisters.”

  She looked over her shoulder again, and unfortunately it was at the exact same second Chloe’s eyes shifted to me once more.

  A tense moment followed, then Chloe gave me the finger.

  I’d have laughed if I wasn’t so on edge.

  Alison, who was too cool to make a scene, turned to face me again. “What’s that all about?”

  I swallowed some bourbon. “It’s nothing. Childhood grudge—she and I used to be really competitive. I beat her at everything.”

  “And now she flips you the bird at parties.” Alison took another sip of wine. “Classy.”

  “She’s just—” I stopped, unsure how to describe Chloe. It wasn’t that she lacked class, she simply didn’t tolerate bullshit. You had to respect her for it. “We just have a certain kind of history is all.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  “What? No.” I ran a hand over my hair. “Of course not. We’ve known each other since birth.”

  “You better not be lying to me, Oliver.”

  “I’m not,” I lied.

  “Either way, she’s not comi
ng to the wedding.” She said it like that was the worst punishment she could mete out to someone.

  For fuck’s sake, I wish I didn’t have to come to the wedding. The thought of spending the rest of my life with Alison was stifling, and that ring had set me back a fuck ton. It wasn’t even the original one I’d presented—when we’d taken it to get fitted, she’d requested a bigger rock.

  Alison set her empty wine glass on the bar. “Could you order me another glass, please? And bring it out to the other room with the fireplace? I’m going to find Lisa and Hughie.”

  “Fine.”

  Alison walked out of the bar with her nose in the air, barely giving Chloe another glance. Part of me wanted to run and hide. But I knew if I didn’t face her now, I’d never be able to look her in the eye. Fuck that.

  Straightening my tie, I puffed up my chest and walked her way. “Chloe.”

  “Oliver.” She didn’t introduce me to her friends.

  “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  “Why?”

  “To catch up. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  I frowned. “Could we please have this conversation in private?”

  “I never want to have another conversation with you again, in private or anywhere else.”

  My temper flared at being put in my place in front of strangers. “You’re being a little juvenile about this, aren’t you?”

  She coughed, putting a hand on her chest. “I’m being juvenile?”

  This argument was going to embarrass us both, so I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to a dark corner of the restaurant that wasn’t being used.

  “Let go of me.” She shook me off. “Asshole.”

  “Fine. I’m an asshole. But you can at least hear me out.”

  She crossed her arms. “You have ten seconds.”

  “I take it you’re mad about Brown Eyed Girl.”

  “Yes, I’m mad about Brown Eyed Girl.” Her eyes narrowed and glittered in the dark. “That was my idea and you stole it.”

  “Chloe, be fair. I didn’t steal the idea—we both wanted to start a distillery, and we talked about doing it together. But when I got home from Europe, you weren’t even speaking to me.”

  “With good reason.”

  “I tried texting you. You told me to fuck off.”

  “That’s because your text said hey, how are you! Not I’m sorry or please forgive me or any of the things you should have told me.”

  “I was going to get around to that. You didn’t give me a chance!”

  She shook her head. “How could you have taken off on me like that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said lamely. “It was an asshole move. I admit it.”

  “Gee, that’s big of you.”

  “Look, that weekend was crazy. Neither of us was thinking straight.”

  “At least we agree on something. I don’t know what possessed me to believe you were serious.” She put a hand on her chest. “I quit my job, Oliver. I was ready to move to Detroit. I followed through, and you fucking blew me off.”

  “Okay, but it’s been four years, Chloe. When are you going to get over it?”

  “When I can look at your face and not want to hit you.”

  “You want to hit me? Do it. I dare you.”

  We faced off, and I could see the fury in her eyes. Still, I was as shocked as I’d ever been when I felt her palm strike my cheek—hard.

  Then she gasped, clasping her hand to her chest, as if it had stunned her too.

  I moved my jaw right and left, satisfied she hadn’t done any real damage, although it stung like a motherfucker. “Feel better?”

  “A little.” She paused. “Did it hurt?”

  “Nah. You hit like a girl.”

  “Can I try it again?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “No.” In case she had any ideas, I backed up. “So are we good now?”

  “You and I are never going to be good, Oliver. But have a nice life. I’m sure you’ll be very happy with Elsa.”

  “You mean Alison?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know her name. She just looks like the type to set off an eternal winter.”

  I grimaced. “Look, I don’t want to be enemies, Chloe. We go back a long way.”

  She exhaled. “Fine. We’re not enemies. But we’re not friends either. And your ten seconds are up.” She brushed by me and returned to her friends.

  I went to the bar and got another round for Alison and me, then joined her in the lobby where she was talking to my brother and his wife. Chloe and I didn’t speak again.

  She did get the last word, though.

  On the ride home, during which Alison was being even frostier than usual, she snipped, “Tell me the truth. Did you ever have sex with that Chloe girl or not?”

  “Why?”

  “Because she said something weird to me. Either she’s seen you naked or she hates you.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Just now, in the lobby bathroom before we left, I came out of the stall to wash my hands and she was putting lipstick on in the mirror. She congratulated me on our engagement.”

  “That doesn’t sound—”

  “Then she said, ‘Lucky you. That great big dick in your bed for the rest of your life.’”

  I burst out laughing.

  “So was she calling you a name or referring to part of your anatomy?” Alison demanded. “Tell me now.”

  “Both,” I said, even though I knew she was going to give me hell for lying to her.

  But I couldn’t help it. Only Chloe would say something like that. I realized then how much I missed her in my life.

  Would she ever forgive me?

  18

  Oliver

  NOW

  The smile on Chloe’s face as she walked back to the table was one I had only seen once before, in a hotel room in Chicago after I’d asked her to move in with me. It was sweet. Genuine. Tender.

  And it made me feel like shit.

  She’d opened herself up to trusting me, and I was still keeping the truth from her. I had to tell her the thing I didn’t want to tell her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it yet. There would be fireworks for sure. Accusations. Rage. That adoring smile would slide right off her face, and I might never see it again.

  I’d messed things up with Chloe before, and it had taken me years to get this second chance. I wasn’t an idiot—there wouldn’t be a third, so I had to get this right.

  Should I tell her now?

  Part of me knew it would be the best strategy, especially since my mother would soon be involved. I love her, but she is the worst secret-keeper ever. She just gets so excited and can’t help herself. I could totally imagine my mother saying things to Chloe that would tip her off as to what I had done. The lie I’d told. The plan I’d put in place.

  It was all a means to an end, and I’d thought it would be worth it, but I was less and less certain Chloe would agree. This thing between us had me all messed up. How had I not anticipated it? What a fucking idiot I was.

  “Hey,” she said, sliding into the booth across from me. “Ready to go? I’m dying for a shower.”

  The thought of her in the shower was a welcome distraction. “What a coincidence,” I said, taking an uneaten fry from her plate and sticking it in my mouth. “I am too.”

  We drove to the inn, checked in, and brought our bags to the room. It felt good to open a hotel room door and watch Chloe walk in ahead of me. To carry her suitcase for her. To watch her set her purse on the desk and look at the king-sized bed, knowing we’d sleep in it together tonight.

  Among other things.

  “This is weird, isn’t it?” she asked as the door slammed shut behind me.

  “What is?”

  “Us checking into a hotel room together.”

  I laughed. “I was just thinking how cool it was.”

  She grinned ruefully. “If anyone would have told me y
esterday …”

  “I know.” I took my wallet and phone from my pocket and set them on the dresser. “When I was driving up on Sunday, I wasn’t even sure I could get you to talk to me.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to.” She turned around and sat at the foot of the bed to untie her hiking boots. “You were pretty persuasive.”

  “I had to be.” Dropping down next to her, I did the same. “I had years of resentment to overcome. Those were some pretty big walls I had to tear down.”

  “Well, you smashed them to pieces, I’d say.” She stared at the laces she’d just undone. “Congratulations.”

  “Hey.” I knelt on the floor at her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  She took a breath. “I was just thinking how I spent years building up my defenses where you’re concerned, and you destroyed them in one night. It’s a little frightening, to be honest.”

  “You have nothing to be scared of, Chloe. I’ll be honest. When I came here to ask you to partner up with me, it was strictly business. I was hoping we could be friends again, and partners going forward, but I had no idea this would happen.”

  “And what is this?” she asked. “What are we doing?”

  “Well, first we’re going to take a shower.” I pulled off her boots. “Then maybe a little nap, since we didn’t get much sleep last night.” I tugged off her socks. “Then I thought maybe we could explore the dunes a little, have some dinner, take a walk. Or we can stay in our room all night, fuck like bunnies, and scheme to take over the world.” Standing up, I took her by the hands and brought her to her feet. “I’m up for anything, as long as I’m with you.”

  She smiled. “Okay. I guess I just need to stop worrying. Can I have a five minute head start in the shower?”

  “You …” I kissed her forehead. “Can have anything you want.”

  As she undressed and slipped into the bathroom, the smile was back on her face.

  All I had to do was figure out how to keep it there.