by Sierra Rose
“Guys, we’re probably just going to take this stuff out for a picnic bonfire. Thanks for waiting up, but you’re all more than welcome to call it a night.”
No one moved an inch. Ferdie even went so far as to shake his head with paternal exasperation. Such requests were kind, but the staff had an honor code to protect. They would man the house, as long as the man of the house was awake—and not retire a second before.
They simply waved us on, as we disappeared into the kitchen to find out what snacks this mysterious Gerta had left behind.
Chapter 17
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I was wrapped in a thick blanket, sipping a mug of hot chocolate on the pebbly shore of the lake, watching two grown men digress into little boys as they argued about the best way to start a fire. Seeing as they’d both already tried repeatedly, I was beginning to suspect that the problem might not be the equipment. It might be a suspicious lack of skill.
“I’m telling you, the kindling base is wet,” Nick insisted. “That’s why it’s not lighting.”
“The kindling is fine,” James countered in frustration. “It’s that damn pyramid that you built up around it—it’s smothering all the air.”
“Pyramids are the standard—”
“They’re a thing of the past! Didn’t you watch that video I sent you last month about that guy who was filming tamarins in Brazil? He had to light this fire, and before he did—”
“For fuck’s sake!” Nick cursed. “Only you would somehow drag a Brazilian rodent into the debate. It’s a simple matter of physics...”
He trailed off as I pushed silently to my feet and stood between them. I handed James my blanket, Nick my drink, then knelt quickly beside the stack of logs. A few seconds later, bright flames were shooting up in every direction—crackling happily against the wood.
The boys stood in silence as I retrieved both my items, then settled back on the stones.
“Public relations,” I said simply. “You never know what skills you’ll pick up.”
It was a crushing blow to the collective male ego, but both men settled down beside me and gazed blearily at the flames. We sat in silence for a while, then all scooted forward of one accord to take advantage of the heat.
“Good job, Abby,” Nick mumbled half-heartedly.
“Yeah.” James bit his lip. “Team effort.”
I snorted and shook my head, tilting back against Nick’s shoulder. A second later, he opened up his arms, and I scooted inside—nestled snugly against his chest.
James glanced between the two of us with a curious frown.
“Okay so, you guys aren’t really engaged...but...you’re clearly something?”
It was a startling question—despite how obvious it must have seemed. The kind of question that Nick and I had never actually asked each other. The kind that only a friend as close as James would ever dare say out loud.
My eyes peered up at Nick’s in the dark. His face was dancing with the flickering flames, and his eyes glowed with a gentle smile.
“We’re...something.”
Something. I nestled back down with a little grin. I could work with something.
“Well when the fuck did that happen?”
Subtle as ever. Thanks, James.
Nick clearly thought so too, because he tossed a handful of pebbles the guy’s way with a little grin. “It happened when it happened—mind your own fucking business.”
James dodged them and grinned back.
“Oh—I’m sorry. Am I just supposed to pretend like all of this is normal?” When we said nothing, he raised his eyebrows and emphasized every word. “That Nick Hunter hooking up with Abigail Wilder, is somehow a regular turn of events?”
Again—only James would be so bold. That being said—only James was loved enough to get away with it. That being said—Nick had no idea how to answer the question.
“I don’t question your love life,” he tried to deflect.
But James only laughed. Truth be told, even I had to join in on that one.
“Please—you question my love life all the damn time.”
It was true. Nick happened to have very high standards when it came to who was, or was not good enough for his best friend. And ‘question’ was putting it lightly. The man interfered on a regular basis.
He messed around with a diplomat’s daughter and an ambassador’s niece. The friends were cut from the same cloth.
“I only do that when it’s absolutely necessary,” Nick said quickly. “When you’re settling, or compromising, or making a big mistake.”
James and I shared a sarcastic grin, before he rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, or when you’re in a bad mood, or a good mood, or you don’t know the guy, or if you’re simply bored and can think of nothing better to do.”
The man’s misdeeds were legendary. He had once actually forged a golddigger’s passport, swapped it out with her real one, then tipped off customs to get her arrested at the airport. All so she would miss her flight to Tahiti where James was waiting.
What had resulted was an unfortunate skirmish in a Turkish holding cell, during which I had to calm down tempers using nothing but a translation book and a smile—while Nick pouted in the background that the truth had come out, and the golddigger had gone free. But the woman had stolen one million dollars from James in a scam, and James forgave her. The woman had James twisted around her finger.
“She could have died,” he accused, obviously thinking of the same story.
Nick scoffed with a distinct lack of concern. “How could she have died?”
“They held her without food or water, Nicholas!”
“Yeah—for about three hours! But I know how much she missed her champagne.”
James threw up his hands in exasperation.
“That’s not the fucking point!”
“That’s not the fucking point!” Nick echoed, mimicking his inflection with a sly smile.
Having been born in London, James’ accent was far heavier than Nick’s. It came through especially strong when he was drunk, or tired, or listing things off like he was doing now.
I shook my head with a grin, taking another sip of hot chocolate.
“Honestly, it’s like listening to drunken kids.”
“I’m not having this argument again,” James declared, pouring a generous splash of schnapps into his drink, before reluctantly passing it to Nick.
“Well I think that’s for the best.” Nick bypassed the chocolate entirely and drank directly from the flask, refusing to accept even an ounce of blame. “And didn’t she steal another million from you. I’m glad you dumped her! Let’s forget about that. Bury the bygones, and all that...”
The conversation slowly drifted back to normal, as I much more quickly drifted off to sleep. How the two men were still awake and drinking, I had no idea. Perhaps it was the fact that I didn’t have the constitution of an Irish sailor, but the champagne alone had lulled me into a near comatose state. The hypnotic dancing flames didn’t help either.
In the end, I finally gave up the ghost, closed my eyes, and leaned back against Nick’s chest. His arms wrapped instantly around me, as his lips brushed against the top of my hair.
The conversation continued on for a while—both men speaking in soft, murmuring voices as I drifted happily off to sleep.
At least...I tried to.
My breathing evened out, and I slumped lifeless in Nick’s arms. I just couldn’t take that final step—and drift fully away out of consciousness.
I really did try. And they certainly thought I must have, otherwise there’s no way they would have ever kept talking the way they did...
“So...” James began softly. “Abigail Wilder, huh?”
I felt Nick stiffen slightly behind me, unsure as to what he meant.
“...and?”
James chuckled.
“And—nothing. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised?” Nick’s arms squeezed subconsciously t
ighter around my waist. “Why?”
James chuckled again.
“Because it’s Abigail Wilder.”
“Why the hell is it so surprising that I would be with Abigail Wilder—”
“Because you don’t date girls like Abigail Wilder.” There was a slight pause, then James clarified. “I mean...you don’t date girls like Abigail Wilder. You should. She’s a thousand times better than anyone you’ve been with before. She’s gorgeous, smart as a whip, and I love her to pieces—you know that. It’s just...she’s not the kind of girl you’ve ever dated before.”
The pause was much longer. So long, that I was beginning to tense up myself. Then, Nick finally answered. In a voice so soft—I could scarcely hear it myself.
“I know.”
I waited. James waited. Then we waited some more.
That’s it?! I know?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?!
James cleared his throat coaxingly, pressing gently forward.
“...and?”
The bubble burst, and Nick recovered himself quickly.
“And...nothing.” He took another swig from the flask. “You’re making a bigger deal out of it than it is.”
“Yeah,” James snorted, “that’s a fucking lie.”
Nick shifted restlessly.
“How would you even—”
“Because you took her on the helicopter, Nick.”
There was a long pause, as the fire crackled between them. Finally, after trying and failing to understand, Nick asked the question.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning—you didn’t leave her on the ship somewhere. Flown off with me to have an actually fun time without her, or worse yet—forget you’d brought her along in the first place.”
It sounded ridiculous, but it had been known to happen.
“Abby’s different,” James continued gently. “That means this relationship is different. In that...it’s an actual relationship.”
Nick paused, considered, then quietly panicked.
“I told you—you’re blowing it up out of proportion. Abby and I know what this is, and what it isn’t...and it’s fine, alright? It isn’t a relationship.”
A cold feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Followed by a cold rush of air, as James apparently pushed to his feet.
“Nick, we’ve been friends since...what?”
Nick thought about it for a moment.
“Since that time you got me suspended at boarding school.”
“You know how sorry I am about that! Anyway—this is me talking, alright? It’s me.” There was a weighty pause. “This one is something special.”
“I know she is.”
He clapped Nick on the shoulder, and headed back into the house.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
Chapter 18
I DON’T REMEMBER GETTING to my room that night. Nick must have stayed outside for quite a while after James left, because by the time he’d carried me in—I was fast asleep.
When I woke up, we were in the same bed. His little conversation with James had obviously negated the need for secrecy (as if our racy dancing on the boat hadn’t already taken care of that), and I blinked open my eyes to see him staring lazily back at me.
“Good morning,” he murmured with a sleepy smile. “You were out cold last night. I hope you don’t mind, I set us up in here.”
A little chill ran down my spine, as my senses returned to me. As I slowly remembered where I was, and what I was doing here. And as I remembered the words he’d said last night.
This isn’t a relationship.
They echoed back hard in my mind, pulsating in the air between us. But I was determined not to let them show on my face. As Nick gazed back with an oblivious smile, I wrapped the sheets firmly around my chest, and flashed him a tight smile in return.
“Not at all. Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
There was a shifting on the bed behind me, as his long arms wrapped around my waist.
“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss into my skin. “You’re welcome to fall asleep on me any time you like. In fact—I encourage it.”
Another chill. I couldn’t control them.
I pulled discreetly away, glancing around on the floor for my clothes. At some point in the night, Nick had taken off my dress. It was a wise decision, given the fact that the thing was couture and I’d surely rip it in my sleep, but it left me with few options now.
“Hey, uh...do you know if James has any clothes around here that might fit me?”
While all of Nick’s estates were packed to the brim with women’s clothes of every size, I was unlikely to have the same luck at any estate belonging to James.
“What’s your hurry?” Those arms were back, pulling me ever closer. “I can think of quite a few things we can do this morning that don’t require clothes...”
A rush of anger welled up inside me, but I was quick to subdue it. Nick was under no obligation to be in a ‘relationship’ with me. And knowing him as well as I did, I was stupid to think that would even have been possible. That anything might have been different just because I might have wanted it to be.
At any rate, I was never—not in a million years—going to confess to overhearing that conversation last night.
“I’m actually...I’m actually still feeling a little tired,” I said evasively, pulling once again out of his reach with a tight smile. “I just want to get dressed and find some coffee.”
This time, my deflections were too obvious for even a sleep-starved Nick to ignore.
He sat up quickly, letting the sheets fall around his bare waist, as he looked me up and down. “Is everything okay? You seem...upset.”
Despite how much time we’d spent together, Nick had never seen me upset. Despite how many shenanigans I’d had to rescue him from—screaming in frustration all the while—this was a different kind of emotion altogether.
“No, I’m fine,” I said quickly, tossing my hair like a protective curtain between us. “I’m still just spinning from the champagne and the helicopter ride. I need to get some caffeine in my system, try to figure out what we—”
“I’ve seen you spinning, and I’ve seen you under-caffeinated.” He leaned forward with a concerned frown, laying a gentle hand upon my back. “What’s wrong, Abby? Talk to me.”
I stiffened slightly under his touch, and glared down at the comforter.
“Don’t do that.”
He cocked his head in confusion.
“Do what?”
My thin layer of control cracked a little, and I looked him right in the eyes.
“Don’t touch me like that. That’s not your responsibility. And that’s not your right.” I shuddered out from under his hand. “We’re not in a relationship, after all.”
Okay, so maybe when I said—never in a million years—I was overstating it a little.
The hand disappeared at once, as his lips parted in surprise. For a second, he just stared at me, uncertain as to what to do. Then his brow tightened with a little crease.
“James wouldn’t have told you...”
And with that—the dam burst.
“Oh my gosh—really?” I whirled around so the two of us were sitting face to face. “That’s the only thing you have to say? How I...how I found out? No, of course James didn’t tell me. He would never turn on you like that. And you know what—he didn’t have to.”
Nick froze dead still, staring at me with wide eyes.
“You heard us talking last night.”
It wasn’t said as a question. It didn’t have to be. And I didn’t dignify it with a response.
“Nick, just...just please help me find some clothes.” I twisted around again and started searching for a likely-looking closet. “I don’t want to just sit here naked—”
“How the hell do you get to be mad at me for that?”
I glanced back around to see a very different man sitting in front of me. This man wasn’t confused, or tired, or
even cautious. He was livid.
“I’m not mad,” I said coolly. “I’m not even surprised. I just want to get dressed.”
I wrapped the sheets tightly around me and tried to swing my feet to the floor, but a hand shot out and grabbed me—pulling me back.
“Well you’re going to have to wait for a minute, because we need to fix this,” Nick exclaimed. “I can’t believe you would be angry with me for saying we’re not in a relationship.”
“I told you, I’m not—”
“Tell me this, Abby: how the hell could we be in a real relationship, when we’re already in a fake relationship? Hmm? When my father has already forced us, under threat of blackmail, to pretend for all the world to see that we’re engaged?”
His words rang out through the room, loud and clear.
“How the hell could we be in a real relationship, when you’re still technically on my family’s payroll? When you’re a paid employee following the orders of her boss? The same boss who just single-handedly ruined her entire career—and let’s not pretend for even a moment, Abby, that I don’t know exactly how much your career means to you.”
He was panting now, glaring at me just as hard as I was glaring at him.
“First you find me a fake girlfriend, then you admit she’s terrible and we break up, then you agree to take her place—only until the merger. Then the boxing ring debacle happens, and the next thing I know—I’m presenting you with a damn five hundred thousand dollar ring in the middle of Barneys!”
His blue eyes glowed hot with rage.
“And you expected me to tell James—what? That we were in a real relationship?”
But his temper was matched hand in hand by my own. Those debate skills couldn’t save him now. That was technically our story, yes, except that he had left out a couple crucial parts.
My voice rang out just as loud as his, and just as angry.
“Well something real has been happening all these nights—”
“And I don’t know what that is, Abby!” he shouted, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “I have no idea what the hell we’re doing right now! I have no idea how you really feel about me, or whether or not you would possibly still be in this bed if there weren’t naked photos of you on a flash drive somewhere!”