The True Love Travels Series Box Set

by Poppy Pennington-Smith

  “Text?”

  “Yes. I explained I was going into Fort Kyle–”

  Max knew his face was red. He could feel the heat creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. Fear, and panic, and frustration writhed inside his chest. “Fort Kyle? You went out? Alone? Rachel, what were you thinking? Why would you do that?” His voice was booming, getting louder and louder.

  Rachel opened her mouth to explain but he waved his hand at her.

  “You know what? It doesn’t matter. After all this time, you still can’t listen to me, can you? It’s pointless. We might as well just pack up and go home.” He slammed the door shut and set off back towards the cottage.

  He walked quickly, deliberately not turning around to look at Rachel as the truck crawled along behind him. His chest was bursting with swirling, red hot emotion. He was mad at her. So mad at her. She’d endangered herself and she didn’t even seem to care.

  Max stormed through the front door and up to his bedroom. Shutting the door forcefully behind him, he sat down on the bed and breathed heavily with his head in his hands.

  He was mad because he was terrified of losing her. He knew it. And knowing it made him feel even worse.

  An hour later, Max’s frustration had cooled to a barely noticeable simmer. Downstairs, Rachel wasn’t in the kitchen or the lounge, but the keys to the truck were back on their hook so he went to the study. She wasn’t at the desk but when he went to the window, he saw her in the distance, sitting at the end of the jetty with Brandi.

  Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his coat and tried to formulate an appropriate apology. He shouldn’t have yelled like that, but she needed to understand that she couldn’t just take off. It was dangerous, and his heart couldn’t cope with it.

  As he approached, Rachel looked up at him and shielded her face from the sun. It was a bright, cloudless day and, behind her, the lake sparkled a deep, welcoming blue.

  Rachel stood up and put her hands on her hips. She didn’t speak.

  “Rachel, I’m sorry.” Max spoke quickly, forcing the words out even though he was finding it difficult. “I was worried about you.”

  “I know,” she said bluntly.

  Max sighed and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

  “No. You shouldn’t.”

  “I was–”

  “Worried. You said.” Rachel was looking at him with a steely expression on her face that he hadn’t seen before but, eventually, it softened. “I’m sorry I scared you. But don’t you want to know what I was doing in Fort Kyle?”

  Max hadn’t even thought about why she’d left; he had been so annoyed that she’d done it, he hadn’t considered the reason for it.

  Rachel stood to one side and gestured to a tartan blanket that she’d set out on the end of the jetty. On top of it was a wicker picnic hamper. Max frowned at it. His hands were in his pockets and he swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet. “A picnic?”

  “A birthday picnic.” Rachel looked away and Max thought he saw her eyes becoming moist.

  “Oh, Rachel…”

  When she looked back, a solitary tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Max’s heart lurched. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and apologise. He wanted to tell her he’d been a moron and explain the crazy mixed-up thoughts in his head.

  Rachel wiped the tear away and sniffed, then took a deep breath and tried to smile. “It’s a chocolate picnic, actually. You said you’d never had one, so I thought… for your fortieth.”

  Max felt like a jerk. The biggest jerk that had ever walked the planet. She’d woken up at the crack of dawn and driven all the way to Fort Kyle to get ingredients for a birthday picnic. And he’d yelled at her as if she was some idiot teenager breaking curfew.

  “I know I shouldn’t have. I just…” She shrugged. “I love birthdays. And I feel bad that you’re here with me instead of home with your friends to celebrate.”

  Max stepped forwards and put his hands on Rachel’s upper arms. He looked at her and smiled. “You know what? This is the only place I want to be. Especially on my birthday.”

  Rachel’s lips twitched into a smile. “Really?”

  “Really. Plus, a guy like me? I don’t have too many friends.”

  Rachel leaned in and nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “Now that, I can believe.”

  25

  Rachel

  “I expected you to be angry. But I didn’t expect you to be quite that angry.” Rachel reached for another chocolate macaroon and laughed. Max’s expression had been pure thunder. But as he yelled at her, and she looked into his furious brown eyes, she realised that he wasn’t just angry because she’d broken the rules; he was angry because he was scared.

  “I didn’t see your text. I didn’t know what had happened.” Max leaned back onto his hands and shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear you leave.”

  “I can be very stealthy when I want to be.” She smiled and made a creeping movement with her fingers.

  Max chuckled, but then caught her eyes and said, “I really am sorry, Rachel.” He gestured to the remnants of the picnic. “This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, and I ruined it by being…”

  “A jerk?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked almost embarrassed.

  “I’ll make you a deal.” Rachel set down her champagne and shifted so that she was facing Max square-on. “I’ll forgive you…”

  Max’s eyes brightened.

  “If you tell me why you were so scared.” She held her breath. She couldn’t quite believe she’d said it, but she still wanted him to answer. She wanted him to tell her that she wasn’t imagining things – that there was something between them, and that it was so powerful the thought of going back to London and being without one another had become unbearable.

  Max hesitated. He looked at the picnic, then back at the cottage, then at Rachel. He swallowed hard, tapped his fingers on his thigh, and breathed in as if he was preparing to make a speech he wasn’t prepared for. “I was scared because…”

  Rachel realised that every muscle in her body had tensed. “Because…”

  “Because it’s my job to take care of you and I thought I’d lost you.”

  Rachel let go of the breath she’d been holding and felt her muscles unwind. He’d said the words he was supposed to say, but they’d been flat and mechanical. Rachel closed her eyes. She was contemplating telling him how she felt. Perhaps that would make him open up to her. Perhaps it would make him tell her that he liked her. Really liked her.

  “Max…” she searched his face, trying to find just the smallest sign that he wanted her to be the one to say it first. But his expression gave nothing away. His walls were back up. So, she returned to her champagne glass and changed the subject.

  They stayed outside by the lake until sunset. As soon as the warmth of the sun disappeared, the air became far too cold for sitting. In the cottage, Max lit a fire and asked Rachel if she wanted to watch something on television. She thought about it; they’d watched a couple of movies together over the past few weeks and had remarkably similar tastes. But, suddenly, the weight of pretending she didn’t want to curl into his chest or reach out and hold his hand became too much, and she didn’t think she could handle an entire evening of sitting opposite one another making friendly conversation.

  “Actually, I might get an early night. I’m sorry, I know it’s your birthday.”

  “It’s fine. Really. I’ve had a wonderful day.” They were standing by the fire, facing one another. Max’s hands lingered at his sides.

  “Good. I’m glad.” She gestured to the T.V. “You should watch something. Don’t worry about me. It won’t disturb me.”

  “All right.”

  In the corner of the room, Brandi sat watching them. She was looking from Max to Rachel and back to Max as if to say, Come on, you two, pull yourselves together. You’re grownups. Just use your words and talk about your feelings. And,
when they didn’t, she made a hrrff sound and slumped off to flop down beside the couch.

  “Okay. Night then.” Rachel turned and walked towards the stairs. As she reached the bottom step, she paused. She could feel Max watching her and thought he might call her name, ask her to stay. But he didn’t.

  Rachel couldn’t sleep. It was early. Far too early to have gone to bed, and she’d forgotten to take water or tea up with her. By eight-thirty, she had showered and changed into her silky cream pyjamas – the ones that usually made her feel better – smothered nice-smelling body lotion on her arms and legs, read three chapters of her book, and listened to a podcast. But she still wasn’t tired. “Probably all the sugar,” she muttered to herself.

  Slipping her feet into her fluffy slipper-socks, she got out of bed and padded over to the window. She hadn’t closed the blinds, so could see the moon casting an eerie shadow over the lake below. The stars were bright. She tried to spot a constellation. Her father had taught her about them but living in London she’d become pretty bad at being able to point them out; the night sky there was rarely clear enough for star-gazing.

  She’d just landed on what she thought might be part of The Plough, when something whizzed across the sky. Then another something…

  Shooting stars.

  Rachel ran downstairs and clattered into the lounge. Max was still watching T.V. and paused it when he saw her.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Shooting stars. Loads of them.” She gesticulated in the direction of the lake then reached for Max’s hand. “Come see. Come on.”

  Max got hurriedly to his feet and followed her outside. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but neither was she.

  “There!” Rachel was still holding his hand and pointed up to the sky. “See?”

  Max looked up and Rachel watched his face as he took in the sight above them. “There’s so many. I’ve never even seen one before.” He squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Amazing.”

  Shuddering against the cold, Rachel nudged closer to Max’s broad frame. For a moment, he just stood next to her. But then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  Rachel was smiling, grinning, and couldn’t have hidden it if she’d tried. “Would you believe me if I said I organised this for your birthday?” She waved her hand at the sky.

  “Honestly? With you, yes. I would.” Max looked down at her. “You’re good at making magic happen, Miss French.”

  Rachel laughed gently. It felt strangely nice to hear him use her full name. “Magic?”

  “Mm hmm. I mean…” Max paused and breathed in loudly. “You melted this concrete heart of mine, made me remember what it’s like to want to be close with someone.” His fingers were gently stroking her shoulder. “That’s not something I thought would happen. Not ever.”

  “Max–”

  Before she could finish, Max stepped in front of her and pulled her into an embrace, holding her just far enough away to look deep into her eyes. “Rachel. You asked me why I got so angry when I thought you were missing. What I should have said, when you asked me, is that I was angry because I was terrified of losing you. Because being without you feels… unimaginable.” He smiled thinly and brushed his hand through his hair. “I… I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  Rachel gently shook her head. “You don’t have to. I feel the same.” She slid her hands around his waist and, finally, allowed herself to lean into his big, warm chest.

  Max breathed out – a long, contented sigh that reminded Rachel of the way Brandi sighed when she found a comfortable position to curl up in. “So, what do we do now?”

  “I have no idea.”

  26

  Max

  After watching the shooting stars for as long as they could before their un-shoed feet started to freeze, they returned to the lounge, drank hot decaffeinated tea, then went to their separate bedrooms to sleep. Max wanted to stay with her all night. He wanted to cuddle up with her on the couch, and kiss her, and hold her until the sun came up.

  But there was plenty of time. There was no need to rush; they didn’t need to understand what it was that they felt, or figure out what to do with it, right away because it was enough that they’d acknowledged it.

  So, he whispered goodnight on the landing outside Rachel’s room, kissed her forehead, and went to bed. As always, he didn’t sleep well, but – unlike most nights – the thoughts that kept him awake were happy ones. Thoughts of Rachel and glimpses of a life that might, just might, be within his grasp.

  His phone woke him at six a.m. He narrowed his eyes at the screen and his heart jittered uncomfortably.

  “Tyler?” He pressed it to his ear and rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  “Max. Morning. Got news.”

  “News that couldn’t have waited until a bit later?”

  “I think when I tell you, you’ll be glad I called.”

  “Okay…”

  “We got him, Max.” Tyler sounded pleased, and proud, and it took a moment for Max to realise what he was talking about.

  “You got him? The guy?”

  “We did. But, listen, keep your voice down. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  Max got up and walked towards the window. His looked out onto the front of the property, at just the truck and the woods, but he could see it was shaping up to be a much greyer day than the one before. “Proposition?”

  “Mr. French would like it if his daughter stayed out of London for a while. So, he’s asked if we’d just hold off on telling her for a while.”

  Max shook his head as he let the words sink in. Rachel’s father wanted them not to tell her that her stalker had been found? “Tyler. No. That’s–”

  “It’s nothing sinister, Max. He just thinks it’s been good for her up there in the Highlands. Wants her to get her book finished.”

  “So, why not just tell her and then suggest she stays on a bit?”

  Tyler sighed, as if he wanted to hang up and get on with whatever else he had to do that day. “I don’t know, Max. I didn’t ask too many questions.” He paused, and Max could picture him chewing his lip as he tried to figure out what to say to persuade him to agree. “Listen, just think about it. Daddy French has connections. If we do this, he’ll recommend us to all of his wealthy friends. It could take the business in a whole new direction and there could be many, many more projects like this one lined up for you.”

  Max walked back to the bed and sat down hard on the rumpled quilt. He felt queasy.

  “Have you thought about what you’ll do when this is all over?”

  “No. I–”

  “Exactly. Max, this could be really good for you. Good for us.”

  Max shook his head and rubbed his temples. “It’s not right, Tyler. Keeping it from her.”

  Tyler sighed. “At the end of the day, Miss French isn’t the client. Her father is. He’s the one paying us.”

  “Yes, but Rachel is the one who–”

  “Rachel?” Tyler’s tone had changed. “Max, you two have been holed up together for a few weeks now... is there something I should know?”

  Max paused. He should have answered more quickly, but he couldn’t find the words fast enough. All he could see was Rachel’s face in the moonlight as she leaned into him last night.

  Pulling himself together, he said sharply, “No. Tyler, there’s nothing. I’m just not comfortable keeping this information from her. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Okay, okay. So, think about it overnight. Just don’t tell her today, okay? Sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow.”

  Max closed his eyes. What if he told her and she realised that everything she thought she felt for Max was just make believe? A way to pass the time while she waited to return to her real life? He made a clicking noise with his tongue and pursed his lips. “All right, Ty. I’ll think about it.”

  It should have been a lovely morning. After their late-night confessions under the stars, Rachel had clearly decided it was okay to
be more tactile with him and, under other circumstances, Max would have enjoyed the way she kept lightly touching his hand or stroking his back as she walked past him.

  On their walk, back up to the waterfall, Max said very little and he got the feeling Rachel was starting to worry that he was pulling away from her again. He expected her to ask him about it, but she didn’t. She just chatted like she always did and acted as if everything was okay.

  When they returned, however, she poured them each a cup of tea and, her hands on her hips, said, “Max, what’s going on? Do you regret what you said last night?”

  Max’s throat constricted nervously. “No. Of course I don’t.”

  “You’re just so quiet…” She laughed. “Quieter than normal, I mean.”

  Max looked down into his tea. “I was just thinking that I should probably call Tyler for an update today, that’s all.”

  Rachel tilted her head at him, then relaxed her arms and reached for her tea. “Are you worried about what will happen when we go back to London?”

  “Yes. Aren’t you?”

  Smiling, Rachel walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. “No. I’m not. I meant what I said, and our location won’t change the way I feel.”

  Max should have been overcome with relief, but he wasn’t; he felt sick with guilt. Pulling her into his arms, he rested his chin on the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her perfume. It wasn’t too late; he could salvage this. He could go upstairs, pretend to call Tyler, then come back and tell Rachel the truth.

  “Listen, I’m going to go do some work. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Rachel was smiling at him.

  “Okay, see you soon. I’ll call Tyler and let you know what he says.”

  As if she didn’t really care all that much what Tyler had to say, Rachel nodded. “Okay.”

  While Rachel worked, Max paced up and down his bedroom and tried to settle on a course of action. Every time he thought he’d decided to tell her the truth, a voice in his head started repeating Tyler’s words. Regular work, security, money to live on – these were all things he was going to need because, no matter how benevolent she was, he doubted that Rachel would be quite as attracted to a down-and-out with no career and no income.