The Fashionista and Her Lumberjack (Romance on the Go Book 0)

by Larissa Vine

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rory couldn’t believe it. When he’d gotten up at dawn to go pee, leaving April and her delicious, warm curves, he’d found Dan taking down the tent. Then Dan had told him everything—about the chick he’d met at the club on Main Street and had ended up sleeping with. And it sucked, because Dan had wrecked everything.

  So Rory had gone to Miranda and had tried to talk her down. He’d explained that he’d known Dan since elementary school and had never seen Dan so into a woman as he was into her. But she hadn’t listened. Man, she’d been as mad as a bag of snakes. She’d used the word “cocksucker” and Rory had made the mistake of laughing because it had sounded so funny in her British accent. Then she’d thrown her flip-flop at him.

  Now, he was driving them back toward Coombs. Dan sat next to him with April and Miranda huddled in the back. The silence in the car was heavy. Miranda kept checking her phone every kilometer or so as she waited to get signal, so she could call Flight Center and change her and April’s flights.

  They took the ferry back to Horseshoe Bay. By now, Miranda had managed to switch the flights. She and April were leaving for Heathrow that evening. Rory drove them to the airport and parked in the short-term parking lot. They all got out. When April went off in search of a trolley, he managed to corner her alone.

  “Do you want to go?” he asked.

  She shook her head, her dark hair swishing. Her top was on inside out. He could see all the seams and the labels. But right now, she’d never looked so hot.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Then stay.” He was aware that a pleading tone had crept into his voice. “You can hang out with me in Vancouver.”

  Then he started to list all of the cool things that they could do together. He told her about the new bars on Commercial Street and about the hikes in the mountain. Christ, he sounded so enthusiastic he could have been writing for The Georgia Straight. But really, he wanted to do none of those things. All he wanted was to love her and nuzzle her and hold her tight. He wanted to get her back into bed.

  She waited until he’d finished talking, then shook her head. She looked tortured. The sun, he realized, had brought out all of her freckles.

  “I can’t,” she said. “Miranda needs me, and like you said, I have to stop being selfish.”

  Rory smiled even though he felt like crap. She was all right, this London chick. She knew what was right.

  “So have I been good for your brand?” he asked.

  She smiled at him.

  “Yes,” she said. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  When they got on the plane, April decided there was only one way to cheer up Miranda—with wine, because wine had always been a good friend to her. But actually getting some wine proved much trickier than April imagined. The flight attendant was so busy, it was hard to make eye contact with her to summon her over. And even when April managed to get the wine, it was only in thimble-sized glasses.

  Four tiny glasses later, and Miranda seemed slightly happier. She’d stopped talking about making a voodoo doll of Dan and of cutting off the doll’s limbs with a blunt pair of craft scissors. She fell asleep with her head resting on April’s shoulder and her hair tickling April’s face. Her head seemed to grow heavier by the second.

  April stared at the TV set in front of her and watched the images flicker on the screen. It was a murder mystery movie, but she struggled to follow the story line because all she could think about was Rory. She’d lost him. He was gone forever. They lived thousands of miles apart. Pain shot through her, so strong it felt physical. She moaned and Miranda stirred on her shoulder.

  Oh God, April thought. Oh God, oh God. Was she in love with Rory? With someone who lived thousands of miles away? The idea was so terrible, she felt like burying her face into her hands, but she couldn’t in case she disturbed Miranda.

  Chapter Nineteen

  April trudged up to doorway of Whispers and stopped. She didn’t want to go inside because she couldn’t bear the thought of having to act happy. But Miranda had sent her hundreds of texts begging her to come.

  It had been three weeks since they’d returned from Canada, and it had been the worst three weeks of April’s life. She’d been consumed by Rory. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him. He seemed to fill every pore of her being. Over and over, she’d wound back the scenes from the vacation. She kept wondering what she could have done differently to have changed the outcome.

  She hardly ate—there was no point, because everything tasted like paper. In the waiting room at the dentist, they’d been playing “Firestarter,” and she’d broken down crying and had been forced to run out. She dreaded going to sleep because she knew that when she woke up, for a second she’d forget what had happened, then she’d have to go through the pain of losing him again.

  Now she rolled her shoulders back, opened the door, and stepped into the roar of noise in the bar. Nothing had changed since she’d been there on that fateful night when she’d agreed to go on vacation to Canada. The same men in suits still flashed their charge cards to the same fed-up looking servers. The same chart music still seemed to drip down the walls.

  April scanned the crowd until she spotted Miranda, sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of rosé. April smiled grimly. It seemed like they’d both learned their lesson about Mai Tais.

  She went up to Miranda and tapped her on the shoulder. Miranda spun around. She opened her mouth and seemed about to say hello when her eyes narrowed.

  “Are you sick?” she asked. “You look like death.” She looked April up and down. “Oh, my God. Double denim. Are you sure it’s okay to wear double denim?”

  April wondered what Miranda was talking about. Double denim was not okay—not by anyone’s standards. It was a fashion faux pas, a giant no-no.

  Her gaze traveled down. She was wearing double denim. She must have flung on her denim skirt and jean jacket without realizing before she’d left the house. And that was the funny thing. Since she’d lost Rory, she didn’t care what wore. It seemed so … well, so trivial.

  Miranda glanced at the clock.

  April climbed up onto the seat beside Miranda and waited for a server to arrive. Maybe she should have a rosé, too, although she doubted it would cheer her up. It felt like someone was scooping out her insides with a cold metal spoon.

  She turned to Miranda. “So has Dan sent you another photo?”

  Over the last three weeks, Dan had been texting Miranda photographs he’d taken of different places. In each one, he’d spelled out the word “sorry” with objects he’d found around him. One photo had been of a beach where he’d written the word in stones. In another photo—April’s favorite—he’d printed “sorry” across a doughnut in powdered sugar. In a third, he’d spelled out the word on the pavement in rose petals.

  April wasn’t sure how Miranda felt about the photographs. She was being tight-lipped about them. But the pictures had an effect on April. With every new one Dan sent, she felt even sorrier for him, and she was beginning to wish Miranda would forgive him.

  “So no more photos?” April asked again.

  Miranda shook her head. Again, her gaze moved to the clock on the wall. She turned her head a fraction further to the left. Then she froze. Something over April’s shoulder had clearly caught her attention. Miranda ran a hand through her hair.

  “April.” Her voice was high-pitched with excitement. “April, we’ve got a surprise for you.”

  April turned to where Miranda was looking and felt the blood drain from her face. Just past the doorway stood Dan and Rory.

  “I don’t understand,” she mumbled.

  Miranda’s face lit up. “Surprise. I decided to forgive Dan. I think it was the doughnut photo that swung it. He still had some holiday left, so he decided to come over.”

  “But Rory?” April started to shake. She was having trouble taking everything in.

  Miranda smiled. “You’ve been so
upset about Rory that I got Dan to speak to him about you. I’ve never seen you like this. And guess what? He’s been feeling the same way. Dan said he’s heartbroken. Dan! Dan! Over here!”

  She waved at them. Then she slid down from her stool and raced up to Dan. April watched him pick Miranda up in his arms and twirl her around like he’d done at the airport. Only this time it was a lot more crowded and April was scared they were going to take someone out.

  She looked across the bar at Rory. Their gazes locked and everything around her seemed to fade into the background. He was so beautiful, so blond and tanned and rugged that a lump filled her throat. He was wearing Diesel jeans and a Paul Smith top, and she wondered if he’d dressed up for her. Certainly, she’d never seen him look so suave. A server walked by and shot him a look at him from beneath her lashes.

  In one motion April was on her feet. In another, she was bounding up to him, dodging left and right around people. When she reached him, she wanted to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she came to a halt. She was so overwhelmed, she couldn’t look at him.

  “Hi,” she said to his feet. He wore cool running shoes.

  “April, look at me.”

  She dragged her gaze up over the muscle-scape of his chest to his face then into his ludicrously blue eyes.

  “How was the flight?” Her voice sounded high-pitched, forced.

  “It was good, thanks,” he said softly, still looking her in the eyes. “I came to give you this.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

  Her heart started to thud even harder. Wow, is it a ring? Maybe he was so hooked on the all of the mind-blowing sex they’d had in Tofino that he’d come to ask her to marry him.

  He handed her a laminated card. She burst out laughing. It was the bear aware certificate.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ve been looking for that.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “I’ve missed you,” he said. “I’ve missed how you dress and the scent of your hair. I’ve missed watching you make that fire. I’ve missed how when you’re unsure, you always scrunch up your nose.”

  April blushed. She hadn’t been aware of the nose-scrunching thing.

  “Me too,” she said. “I’ve missed us, too.”

  And that was enough. It like she’d pushed an activate button on a control panel because suddenly he was on her, pulling her into his arms and pushing his lips against hers. She kissed him back hard. He was the truest thing she’d ever known, and she wanted him now, forever.

  At last, they broke off the kiss. No one was clapping like they’d done at the swimming holes, but a good deal of people were looking at them. April half expected someone to offer to buy them a drink. She felt dizzy from the kiss and she gripped Rory as he circled his arm around her waist. The size of his arm made her feel so delicate.

  “I was thinking.” He sounded nervous. “I was thinking … when tree-planting season is over in the fall, maybe I can come and work in the UK for the winter? I’ve got contacts in the forestry commission, and I’m sure they could find me something.”

  April squealed. “Wow, that would be brilliant. You could stay with me.”

  Rory’s eyes twinkled. He took her hand and began to steer her through the crowds toward the door.

  She felt a lurch of panic. “Wait. Where are we going?”

  Maybe he was about to drag her on another hideous camping trip. Perhaps he and Dan were going to take her and Miranda to some desolate part of Scotland.

  Rory chuckled. “Where are we going? Back to my hotel. You and me—we’ve got unfinished business.”

  April beamed at her lumberjack.

  The End

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