by Nikki Moore
That made her sit up, filled with rage. How bloody dare he? How dare he pretend to be someone he wasn’t? How could he take advantage of her vulnerability like that? What a pig. Striding back to the computer, she thudded a message out on the keyboard onto his Facebook page.
Looks like the joke is on you, Leo. I won’t be helping you win any bet, I’m spending Saturday at home packing for uni. Three counties over isn’t far away enough for me.
And btw Ewan, the G stands for grateful, which is what I feel towards you for helping me see what your friend is really like. And I’m way too expensive for him.
The message gave her a flashing moment of satisfaction before it dawned on her how publicly she was sharing her fury and humiliation. Leo had over 600 friends and two of them had already clicked to ‘Like’ her post. She paused, horrified, then went for the delete button, but before she could do anything, her message and the two left by Leo’s friends had vanished. Immediately her phone started ringing. She wrenched it from her pocket and checked the screen. Leo. He knew. It was him who’d deleted the messages. She let it go to voicemail, tapping her hands on her thighs. He didn’t deserve a chance to be heard. It was despicable. He rang five times before giving up, texting and Whatsapping the same message three times.
It’s not what it looks like. It wasn’t for a bet. I promise. Let me explain. Meet me tomorrow please. And think about all our conversations and messages. Think about what we mean to each other. You’ll know the truth. Xx
Now
She had come.
Leo winced as Georgiana appeared on the left hand path, staring straight at him, expression as glacial as a winter snowstorm.
Happy Valentine’s Day, he thought wryly.
Her long legs carried her to him in no time, but when he tried to put an arm around her in greeting, she shrugged away from his touch and strode over to the bench. She dropped onto it wordlessly and crossed her arms.
There was no Buttons with her today, and Leo didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. ‘Here,’ he scrambled around in the rucksack and threw a blanket around her shoulders, snapping the hand warmer to activate it and handing it over. ‘I don’t want you freezing to death. It’s a cold one.’
The murderous glare she gave him said it wasn’t her health he should be worried about.
‘So we’re back to no words,’ he muttered. ‘Look, I’ll get right to it. Just,’ feeling like a stupid, flustered school boy he poured her a small flute of champagne and handed it to her, ‘have this. I know you probably don’t feel like celebrating, but it might help you relax.’ He smiled hopefully, knees trembling. She meant too much to him to cock this up. She couldn’t go back to uni with things not right between them.
Sniffing the champagne suspiciously to make a point, she took a sip and sneezed as the bubbles went up her nose.
‘Right. I got that. You trusted me and now you don’t think you can. So, I’ll level with you. My friends did bet me to get a date for Valentine’s Day.’ He made sure to hold her one-blue-eyed stare as he said it, ‘And I wanted to get them off my back for a bit, I’ll admit it. I was fed up of some of the comments, like it wasn’t okay to be single or that I hadn’t met anyone yet, or that my career was the most important thing to me.’ He saw a flicker of understanding in the eye not covered by the patch. ‘So when I met you initially, I thought it could be the perfect solution. You obviously needed a friend and someone who could boost your confidence. I needed someone to hang out with today.’
‘So I was a project?’ she demanded, clutching the blanket tighter. ‘You wanted to fix me.’
‘No, of course you weren’t a project. You’re a person. An amazing, strong girl. And you didn’t need fixing, you just needed to see yourself as whole again. I suppose with my job, I do help and support people and if that translated into our friendship, I’m sorry.’ Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose then opened them again. ‘But I never saw you as just a bet. Or as someone to be pitied. I am so sorry. I promise you I didn’t ask you here today so I could brag about it to my friends.’ He slid a bunch of red roses from the bag, ‘I don’t suppose it’s worth getting these out yet?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You probably think they’re romantic, but what I want from you, all I really want, is honesty.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m telling you the truth. There was nothing ever malicious about it. It was never for male pride, or to be one of the lads. I swear. You can ask anyone who knows me even one of those two pillocks on Facebook, who by the way were just taking the piss out of me.’
‘I have had time to think… and maybe stalk you on Facebook a bit more,’ she admitted, taking a sip of champagne.
Taking a deep breath. ‘And?’
‘There was nothing on there about girls, or anything too laddish. In fact it was pretty boring.’
He beamed. ‘I told you.’
‘I was furious,’ she leaned forward, direct eye contact locked onto his, fingers clenched around the glass. ‘Because of the way I feel about you. Seeing that message about a bet played into all my worst fears. That I wasn’t enough for you, for any guy any more. That it would be just because guys felt sorry for me. That I wasn’t worthy. But then,’ she looked down at the bubbles rising to the surface of the bubbly, ‘I read your message and lay on my bed and thought about the last few weeks. About, like you said, the conversations and things we’ve shared. About the way you pushed me to challenge myself, to think, to act. The support you gave me, the way you held me when I told you about the accident. I don’t think you can fake all that. So I decided you deserved a chance to look me right in the face and confess the truth, the whole truth. So, here I am.’ Setting aside the glass she took a deep breath, and clenched her teeth.
‘What do you–?’
‘Leo, stop talking.’ She took hold of his hand and moved it to her thigh, so that his fingers could trace the scars through her jeans. ‘I have muscle missing here, and ugly scars. I don’t like looking at it when I take my clothes off.’ She sucked in another deep breath, looking pale, and let go of his hand. He left it on her leg while she took a hair-band from her pocket and tied her hair back in a jaunty ponytail that showed off her amazing cheekbones. Focusing only on him, she reached round behind her head and slipped her eye-patch off. ‘This is me. This is who I am now. Is this a face you could feel strongly enough about to spend time with every day?’
His lips tightened as he saw the scarring there, and knew she was testing him, but he didn’t care. He was glad to have the chance to prove himself to her. Grabbing her face between his hands he brought her in close, resting his forehead against hers, unflinching. ‘Without hesitation,’ he said, and kissed her softly. ‘You’ve taught me how to fall in love.’ He felt a smile form on her lips and eased back. ‘This is the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. You’re the last person who deserves pity, and if you don’t go back to uni soon, I’ll personally drive you there myself and dump your arse there. You’re going to be an incredible teacher.’
There were tears in her eyes when she nodded. ‘I’m signed back up. I start back after Easter. People can look if they want to. After a while they’ll get bored with it.’
‘They’ll just be checking out the hot pirate girl,’ he grinned as she put the eye-patch back on, before he kissed her again. ‘So am I forgiven? Do you believe it wasn’t for a bet? That once I got to know you there was no way it could ever be a bet? I said friends only because I didn’t want to push you into something–’
Wrapping her arms around him she squeezed hard, then threw her legs over his. ‘I believe you. And what you just did –’ she nodded her head, ‘the way you saw me at my most vulnerable and didn’t flinch. It was the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.’ She groaned. ‘God, that was so cheesy. Yuck!’
‘Well, it is the most romantic day of the year.’ He tugged gently on her ponytail. ‘We might as well enjoy it, now we’re here,’ he pointed to the hamper at
their feet. ‘There’s all sorts of cool stuff in there. Fancy sharing them?’
‘Absolutely. But in a minute, when I’ve finished my bubbly and taken in the view.’
‘Great,’ he picked up the other flute and poured himself a glass. ‘Cheers.’
As George rested her head on his shoulder, holding his hand underneath the blanket, Leo gazed out across the London skyline. It was the perfect way to spend Valentine’s Day on Primrose Hill.
Coming Soon from Nikki Moore…
Tap the cover to pre-order now.
Also by Nikki Moore…
New Year's at the Ritz
Skating at Somerset House
Crazy, Undercover, Love
Nikki Moore
I've adored writing and reading since forever and have always been a sucker for love stories so I'm delighted to be part of the fabulous HarperImpulse team! I write short stories and fun, touching, sexy contemporary romance and really enjoy creating intriguing characters and telling their stories.
A finalist in writing competitions since 2010, including Novelicious Undiscovered 2012, I'm a member of the fantastic Romantic Novelists’ Association. I blog about three of my favourite things – Writing, Work and Wine – at www.nikkimooreauthor.wordpress.com and am passionate about supporting other writers as part of a friendly, talented and diverse community, so you'll often see other authors pop in!
You can find me at https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreAuthoror https://www.facebook.com/NikkiMooreWrites or on Twitter @NikkiMoore_Auth to chat about love, life, reading or writing… I'd love to hear from you!
About HarperImpulse
HarperImpulse is an exciting new range of romance fiction brought to you from the women’s fiction team at HarperCollins. Our aim is to break new talent from debut authors and import the hottest trends from the US, bringing you the very best in romance. Whether that is through short reads for your mobile phone or epic sagas that span the generations we want to proudly publish romance fiction that gets everybody talking.
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Writers, we are simply looking for good stories! So, what are you waiting for? To submit, e-mail us at [email protected].
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