“We’ll put the ice cream in the freezer and then go down to the café for a fluffy, shall we?”
Mateo loved the small cup of warm, frothy milk topped with a sprinkling of chocolate and a marshmallow, a Kiwi-designed hot drink especially for children.
“Yes!” Mateo jumped up and down, then sneezed again.
“Come on then.” Aaron walked faster, clutching the boy’s hand. Hopefully his son wouldn’t have caught a chill. No way would Nita pass up the chance to tell her lawyer he’d given the boy pneumonia.
“Dad?”
“Yes, mate?”
“What’s that lady doing?”
“What lady?”
“That one over there in the white dress.” Mateo pointed toward the edge of the quay.
Aaron glanced over, expecting to see a tourist taking photos or a member of the nearby Te Papa museum checking the latest artistic displays, although why they’d be doing it in the rain he wasn’t sure. Instead, his gaze fell on a woman in what looked like a wedding dress standing on the edge of the quay, staring down at the water. She was completely soaked through, her veil covering what must once have been a coiffured hairstyle, her dress clinging to her slender limbs. His pace slowed, in spite of the continuing rain.
“What’s she doing?” Mateo asked again.
“I don’t know.”
She was shivering, and as he watched she swayed a little. Her feet were clad only in stockings, he noticed, her shoes missing. She must have been freezing.
Behind her, a couple scurried past, nudging each other as they saw her, although they didn’t stop. Aaron was tempted to do the same—he had to get Mateo out of the rain, and almost certainly if he approached her she’d tell him to mind his own business.
He looked down at the boy, who was watching her thoughtfully. What was it teaching his son if he just turned around and walked off in the opposite direction when someone was obviously in trouble?
“Shall we ask her if she’s okay?”
Mateo nodded. “She looks cold.”
“Yes, she does.” He began to walk toward her, still holding his son’s hand.
“Why is she standing in the rain?” the boy wanted to know.
“I don’t know.” She definitely wore a wedding dress, though. Clearly, something had gone wrong with her big day. Had something happened to the groom—an accident maybe? Or had the man not shown up?
They approached her from the side, and Aaron slowed. “Excuse me.” He tipped his head to try to catch her eye. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I just wondered if you’re all right? Can I help at all?”
She turned her head to look at him, and Aaron caught his breath. Wow. Even though her mascara had run and she looked more miserable than any human being he’d seen in real life, she was the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on for a long, long time.
She’d wrapped her arms tightly around her waist and hunched her shoulders. Up close, he saw that the wet wedding dress had turned transparent, and her underwear was clearly visible. He frowned—if she stayed here she was going to get into trouble.
“Go away,” she whispered, and turned her gaze back to the water.
He glanced at Mateo, who looked as worried as he felt, then back at her. “I don’t think the rain’s going to ease up any time soon. You’ll catch your death out here.”
“I hope I do.”
“Aw.” Pity filtered through him. “Whatever happened, love, it’s not the end of the world.” Even as he said the words, though, he knew that for her it must seem like it.
“Leave me alone,” she said. She swayed a little toward the water. Was she thinking of jumping?
“Don’t do it,” Aaron said. He took a chance that her misery was down to being jilted. If her husband-to-be had been in an accident, she’d be with family now, he was sure. “He’s not worth it.”
She blinked a few times then looked back at him. Properly this time, her eyes focusing on him. They were a deep navy blue, the color of the stormy spring sky and the tempestuous sea beneath it. A prickle ran down his spine. Some guy had proposed to her and then presumably not turned up at the church. It made him want to knock the bastard’s teeth down his throat.
“I loved him,” she said.
“I know.” He noted her use of the past tense. She obviously had, or she wouldn’t be standing there in her wedding dress. “But any guy who would ditch you at all, let alone on your wedding day, must have something wrong in the head.”
She stared at him as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “What?”
He looked down at his son. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, Mat?”
The boy nodded solemnly.
Aaron looked back up at her and shrugged. “He agrees with me.”
She seemed completely bemused now, too upset to smile, confused that a man was semi-flirting with her at possibly the lowest point of her life.
“Can I call someone for you?” He spoke softly, feeling as if she were a wild animal, like a deer, about to flee if he raised his voice. “A sister? A friend?”
She shook her head and turned back to the sea. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
He hesitated. What should he do? He couldn’t just leave her. He couldn’t take her into a café or a bar for a drink because everyone would stare at her, and he could only imagine how embarrassing that would be. She didn’t want to see anyone she knew because she must feel humiliated at being jilted. There was no point in calling the police because, as terrible as her situation was, a crime hadn’t been committed.
“Listen,” he said, “Mat and I are staying in a hotel around the corner. Why don’t you come back with us? You can have a hot shower, and I’ll lend you a sweater and a pair of track pants. You can have a cup of coffee, or something stronger, if you like, and we can talk if you want, or not, if you’d rather. But you’ll be out of the rain, and you can have a think about what you want to do.”
She frowned. “I couldn’t do that.”
Two young guys were striding through the rain along the quay, heading for the bar at the end no doubt, and as they saw her they nudged each other and grinned, presumably because of the transparency of her dress.
Aaron moved to block their view of her. “Honey, you can’t stay here.” He spoke more firmly this time, in the voice he used when Mateo refused to have a bath. “You’re freezing, and your dress is practically see-through.”
She looked down at herself and gasped, bringing up her arms to cover her breasts. “Oh God.”
He took off his backpack, then unzipped his padded jacket, slid it off, and placed it around her shoulders, trying not to shiver as the rain immediately soaked his clothes. She clutched it to her, bewildered, turning her doe eyes up to him. He felt a strong urge to comfort and protect her, which didn’t surprise him considering she reminded him of a wounded animal, and he was a vet.
“Come on.” Replacing his backpack, he held out his hand and tried not to shiver.
“We’ve got chocolate fudge brownie ice cream,” Mateo added, peering out from beneath his hood. “You can have some if you like.”
She looked down at him. Her expression softened, and a small smile appeared on her lips for the first time. “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.”
“This way,” Aaron said. Breathing a sigh of relief as she moved back from the edge of the quay, he led her across the paved area in front of Te Papa Museum and across to the busy road. He took Mateo’s hand as they waited at the crossing. Luckily, the hotel was only a short walk along the next road.
She walked with her head down, shoulders hunched in the jacket, clutching it in front of her with one hand. As he slowed at the front of the hotel, she finally looked up, hesitating as he went to walk in.
“Put this up,” he instructed as he lifted the hood over her veil, realizing she was worried about people staring at her. “The elevators are very close, don’t worry.”
She kept her face down as they entered the foyer and crossed to the elevators, and he was r
elieved that it was too late for checking out time, too early for checking in, and the foyer was relatively empty. When the carriage arrived, they were the only ones in it, and he heard her sigh of relief as the doors closed.
“Go on then,” he said to Mateo, who promptly pressed the button, and the carriage rose.
She tipped back her hood, only to catch sight of herself in the mirrored walls. To his surprise, she didn’t groan at her reflection. She studied it with a kind of distracted interest as if she didn’t recognize herself. Her hand came up to wipe beneath her eyes, but other than that she didn’t react.
“By the way, I’m Aaron Reed,” he said. “And this is Mateo—Mat for short.”
“I’m seven,” Mateo said, as if his age was of vital importance.
She gave him a little smile. “I’m Bridget.” She opened her mouth as if to add something, then closed it again.
“The goddess of spring,” Aaron said. “Seems appropriate.”
Her smile turned wry. “I don’t look much like a goddess at the moment.”
“I beg to differ. I’m certain one exists beneath the panda eyes.”
She gave a soft laugh and looked down, her eyes widening as she examined her stockinged feet. “I have no idea where my shoes are. I couldn’t run in them, so I took them off and threw them… somewhere.”
“How far away was the church?”
“The registry office,” she corrected, and named the street.
He calculated that it would have taken her about ten minutes to get to the quay. She must have run blindly through the rain, unless she’d planned to jump into the harbor.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Aaron led the way with Mateo, glad to see her following. When they reached his room, he swiped the card and went in, holding the door open for her.
She walked in slowly and stopped in the middle of the modest room, still clutching the jacket around her neck, her gaze sweeping over the two queen beds, the table and chairs, the tiny kitchenette. Aaron glanced around, seeing it with her eyes. Was she looking for signs of Mateo’s mother? It should be clear that only guys inhabited the room. He scooped up the clothing that had been discarded on the floor and threw it in the suitcase.
“It’s just me and Mat staying here,” he explained in case it wasn’t clear.
He fished out a clean T-shirt and a pair of track pants. They would be too big for her, but hopefully she’d be able to cinch in the waist enough to make them comfortable. Chewing his lip, he debated his underwear for a moment, then shrugged. There was no point in being coy. He had to pretend she was an animal someone had brought into his surgery. She was cold and miserable—she needed clothing and something warm to eat and drink.
He added some boxer-briefs and a pair of socks to the pile and held it out to her. “The bathroom’s over there. Why don’t you have a shower and put these on? I can always run out and get you some proper clothing later. Then come out and have something to eat and drink, and we’ll have a chat. If you want. I’m not going to force you to do anything. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
With one hand, she reached out and took the clothes. “You’re very kind.”
“It’s only what any normal human being would do.”
“It’s not. You were the only person to speak to me.”
He frowned. “Well I don’t understand that, but then maybe it’s because I’m a vet. I’m used to dealing with waifs and strays.” He smiled.
She returned it shyly. “I won’t be long.”
“Take as long as you like. Mat and I promise to save you some ice cream. Probably.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Okay.” She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. He heard the sound of her locking it, which didn’t surprise him.
He blew out a breath and looked at his son, who raised his eyebrows.
“Why didn’t anyone else help her?” Mateo wanted to know.
“I don’t know. It makes me sad.”
“When someone’s hurt you should always help, shouldn’t you, Dad?”
“I think so.”
“What happened to her?”
Aaron put his backpack on the counter, slid the tub of ice cream into the tiny freezer compartment at the top of the fridge, then retrieved a fresh towel from the cupboard. “She was supposed to get married, but I don’t think her husband-to-be turned up.” He beckoned the boy toward him and unzipped his jacket.
Mateo shouldered it off and let his father place it over a nearby chair. Even though he’d worn a hood, most of his hair was wet. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Aaron began to dry it with the towel. “It was an awful thing to do though. That poor girl. She would have felt an inch high.”
“She must have spent a lot of money on her dress and everything.”
“Yes.”
“Will she get it back?”
“I doubt it.”
“What church was it?”
“It wasn’t a church, it was a registry office.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, there are lots of reasons. People who aren’t religious don’t normally get married in a church.”
“You were married in a church weren’t you, Dad?”
“Yes.” He turned the boy around and directed him to the bed. “Put the TV on, and we’ll share the ice cream, shall we?”
“Okay.” Mateo climbed onto the bed. “Are you religious then, Dad? Is that why you married in a church?”
“No.” Aaron dried his own hair, then unbuttoned his wet shirt. “But Mum is. She’s a Catholic. She wanted to get married in church, and I agreed.”
“Did she wear a white dress like Bridget’s?”
“Yes, she looked very beautiful.” He tossed the wet shirt into the kitchenette and then tugged on a fresh top. He didn’t want to think about Nita now. “Okay, two spoons.” He retrieved them and took out the ice cream.
“We have to save some for Bridget, though,” Mateo reminded him. “I hope she likes chocolate fudge brownie.”
“All women like chocolate, mate. It’s a good lesson to learn.”
They sat on the bed against the pillows and ate the ice cream while they watched a children’s program that involved two brightly-colored, non-threatening monsters talking to each other while they made cookies, covering the whole room and each other in batter.
Aaron watched and chatted to his son, but he kept seeing the image of Bridget’s large blue eyes, and her shy smile.
Chapter Three
Bridget stood in front of the huge mirror and studied her reflection. Jesus. She was surprised she hadn’t made the little boy burst into tears at the sight of her.
She looked down at her hands and held up her left, fingers splayed. She still wore her engagement ring, although the wide band that should have sat beneath it was still tucked into the best man’s pocket, no doubt. Unless Mal had sold it already. She wouldn’t have put that past him.
Tugging off the engagement ring, she put it on the edge of the sink. She should have thrown it into the sea.
Part of her wanted to slide down the wall and curl up on the floor. She didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. She didn’t want to deal with the after effects of what had happened today. She wanted it all to go away.
That wasn’t her though, was it? Birdie Hitchcock, who ran the Four Seasons shop and who’d dated Mal since she was twenty-one, was practical and sensible, and didn’t give in to violent displays of emotion. Birdie would reason that it was better for Mal to have not turned up than to have married her first and then changed his mind. Birdie would have remained at the registry office, insisted she was fine, and spent an hour ringing around to cancel the restaurant and honeymoon, apologizing to everyone for the inconvenience. Birdie would shake hands with Mal and say it had been good, and wouldn’t it be great if they could stay friends.
For the first time in her life, Bridget couldn’t associate with that girl at all. She wanted to rip Mal’s head fr
om his shoulders and spit down his neck. She wanted to scream and cry and lash out at everyone in reach. She wanted to keep walking, and never come back.
Maybe she would. Maybe she’d go home, grab her passport and purse, head off to the airport in the morning, and jump on the first available plane. Actually, perhaps she should go to Vanuatu on her own. She might meet some gorgeous islander there, and she could take him back to the honeymoon suite and screw him in her wedding bed.
Fuck Mal.
Fuck everyone.
Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.
Turning, she opened the cubicle door and switched on the shower. The guy—what was his name? Aaron?—was right. She needed to get out of the dress, have a shower, and have a drink. Or two. Then she’d head off. She couldn’t possibly impose on him any longer. He’d been so sweet, but she needed to be alone.
She slid off his padded jacket and hung it on the back of the door, then surveyed her veil. Her stylist had pinned it to her hair with hundreds of grips to keep it in place. She began to pull them out, losing her temper when several got stuck. She tugged it viciously, ripping out strands of hair in the process, relieved when the veil slopped to the floor in a heap of sodden lace.
The cowl-back wedding dress had no zippers or buttons, so it only took seconds to lift it over her head and drop it on top of the veil. It was an elegant but simple gown she’d chosen because Mal had said a frothy dress wouldn’t fit with their small ceremony. She’d studied the gorgeous tulle ball gowns with envy before turning the pages to the more modest slim line ones. Oh well. If she’d had a more expensive dress she would have wasted more money. She had to look on the bright side.
She gave a humorless laugh. There wasn’t a bright side to this, no matter how hard she looked. She’d been jilted at the altar. Find the silver lining in that, Birdie.
It left her standing in what Rowan called a torsolette—a torso-hugging camisole resembling an old-fashioned corset in a beautiful white lace embroidered with silver thread, complete with garters that held up her white stockings. She scowled at it and spent a few minutes struggling with the hook-and-eye fastenings and the ribbons to get it undone.
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 2