Blush

by Jen Doyle

  That was the best thing Nicki had heard all day. “Good. Because I think I’m going to need it.”

  Half an hour later, Nicki found herself standing at Russel and Dana’s front door. Dana had brought her back up to her own house after the meeting—the beautiful house with almost the same view as the property she’d just basically sold and that she’d have never been able to afford if it hadn’t been a perk of the job. But it had been clear that Nicki was expected for drinks and dinner. Which was kind of awesome. She was a little on the nervous side, though.

  Sure, they were obviously happy Simon had committed to a property and house that would run him upwards of $12 million, but she shouldn’t have been so caught off guard. If she couldn’t even figure out the client they were meeting was her ex-husband, how could they possibly trust her with anyone else who came around?

  She adjusted the collar of her shirt and then rang the doorbell. When Brock answered she held up a bag of dried mangos—it was one of his weaknesses; it had taken her two years to figure that out in college. She also had flowers for Dana. She would have brought wine but knowing it was Dana’s family’s business she would have made the wrong choice and she was already on shaky enough ground. Brock seemed perfectly content, however, ushering her inside with a hug and a huge smile, and then leading her onto their back patio where Dana did the same. Dana then introduced Nicki to the other man sitting with her, Drew Barnes, the attorney who would be drawing up the contracts for all of the Lakeside Estates properties.

  Once everyone was seated around the table with various drinks in front of them and a beautiful spread of cheese and crackers, Brock was the first to speak. “You planning to tell us the full story or do we need to drag it out of you?”

  “Could we drink a little more first?”

  Nicki was the only child of a single dad who’d had no idea what to do with a daughter. Having left the Army to raise her, he started working construction when she was three. He took her to job sites whenever he could, brought her to poker night at his friends’ houses, and gave up on “all that girly shit” early on, deciding that just because he didn’t have a son didn’t mean he couldn’t treat her like one. It meant she could now drink guys twice her size under the table while distracting them with the raunchiest jokes. But she blushed easily, and she could feel her cheeks heating at the prospect of explaining her two-week marriage to one of the few guys who’d ever truly been her friend. In front of his wife and lawyer no less.

  “Hell, no.” Knowing her a little too well, unfortunately, Brock tipped his beer in her direction. “You’ll sit there while we all get trashed and avoid the subject entirely.” Not giving either Dana or the lawyer guy a chance to chime in, he deliberately put his bottle on the table. “Damn, Hollister. You were married? For how long? When?”

  Right. This was the part where she sounded like every stereotype people had of her. Nicki looked down at her glass of wine. “For, like, a second. Nine years go.” And to this day she couldn’t quite believe she’d done such a thing.

  Leaning back in his chair, Russel folded his arms across his chest. “Spill.”

  She gave them the very abridged version of the story of Simon and Nicki’s month-long romance. About how she’d been out dancing with some friends when he walked in and it was like the whole place had come to a stop. She’d fallen in lust immediately. He’d had thick, wavy dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and a body that left jaws dropping in its wake, all of which had somehow seemed even more magnificent earlier today. The accent hadn’t hurt. Knowing full well she herself wasn’t an A-lister—and from the way he’d held himself it had been clear he was even though he’d come across as more beach bum than billionaire at first—she’d admired from afar all the while knowing she had nothing to set her apart from any other woman there. So when he approached her at the bar, she’d been pleasantly surprised—holy God, he’d been even more beautiful up close than from across the room.

  She’d had no expectation of anything other than a drink, possibly some dinner, and maybe a nice, long evening of getting intimately acquainted with his perfect athletic frame. All of which did occur, although she most definitely didn’t go into that part of the story. But she did share that she had absolutely not expected him to come to her show the next night or the night after that. And that he’d even shown up on two of that week’s backstage tours.

  Less than two weeks later, he’d gotten down on one knee on his balcony high above the Strip and presented her with the biggest diamond ring she’d ever seen. After a whirlwind one-night courtship, they’d gotten married at the Bellagio, honeymooned at the Hard Rock Hotel, and then he’d moved from his suite at the Cosmopolitan to one at the Mandarin to begin—and end, as it turned out—their married life.

  She took a huge gulp of her wine when she finished, hoping Russel wouldn’t ask too many questions. Neither Dana nor Drew would know how unlike her the whole thing had been—she wasn’t sure she’d ever even been read a fairytale, much less believed in them—but if Russel had been around he would have had her committed.

  “You know he’s, like, practically royalty, right?” Dana said, most likely because she’d gone straight to Google as soon as Simon’s helicopter had left the ground.

  His ancestors had been, something Nicki hadn’t learned until well into week three. And Simon had later told her it was a big thing for his mother, apparently. He’d been the first boy born into the family in six generations, and his mother was obsessed with trying to get their title back. Which would never happen, Simon was sure, but it kept her occupied so he’d had no inclination to stop her.

  “The title died out because there were no boys,” Nicki said. “Simon’s mother has a ton of money, though… Or, I guess he does now. I think it was all supposed to go to Simon when he turned 28.”

  “You think?” Brock asked. He politely left out the Isn’t that the kind of thing you should have figured out when you married him?

  Nicki shrugged. Although her friends had thought she was crazy, she hadn’t really thought much about his money or what it might mean. But she hadn’t quite understood the extent of his fortune at first, thinking he was more one of those Silicon Valley get-rich-quick types. Or maybe some pro athlete or actor who had just signed his first crazy big contract and was blowing it all on fancy hotel rooms and make-a-statement toys before readjusting to real life. By the time he gave her the jaw-dropping rock of an engagement ring she had a clue it was a little bit more complicated, yes. But it was such a whirlwind of a few weeks that they hadn’t quite gotten around to the Here’s-How-To-Manage-A-Budget conversation. And then they didn’t get to it, because he up and left her.

  “I didn’t care about the money.” She still didn’t. If it had been a real marriage, sure. But it had been like this little blip of a fantasy, pure perfection right up until it wasn’t. An annulment had seemed fitting, almost, because it made it seem more like the dream it was.

  “But here’s the thing…” Although Nicki knew how bad this would make her look, she needed to come all the way clean. Which meant owning up to not only her exceedingly poor judgment in marrying a man she’d only known for two weeks, but also how she’d let him stiff her entirely when he left. She would have preferred not to share that information with Drew, who had absolutely no reason to think highly of her in the first place, much less Russel and Dana, who had at least already been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. But it was the right thing to do, so she avoided looking at their slack-jawed expressions as she steeled herself and gave them the details.

  “Don’t worry, though, it’s all handled,” she said when she was done so that they didn’t think the debt was still hanging over her. “He gave me a really nice engagement ring and a friend of mine set me up with an auction house so I could pay off the room right away.” She thought maybe she wouldn’t mention she’d also decided to throw in all the other jewelry in case it turned out that he had left her on the hook for more. Which he hadn’t, thank God, so after anot
her year—well, maybe only six or seven months—she’d gone ahead and used the money for a down payment for a condo. A really nice one, actually; given the circumstances, she barely even felt bad about it.

  Glancing up at the others, she ignored the heat rising to her cheeks and just pushed through to the end. “But I think it’s important to do whatever necessary to make sure he follows through on the house.” Because it would kill her if he did something to Russel and Dana after they’d gone and given her a job. “So, uh…” Her voice trailed off a bit as she realized they were all just staring at her, still a bit open-mouthed. She resisted the urge to check and see if there was sweat forming at her brow. “Let me know how to do that—the making sure thing—so he doesn’t leave anyone else holding the bag. I will totally take that on.”

  She was babbling. She needed to stop. Biting her lip, she clasped her hands together and rested them on the table in front of her.

  Yep, there was definitely a little bead of sweat forming. Lovely.

  It took a full ten seconds before anyone spoke. It was Russel who talked first and he was… not happy. Really not. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have actually cowered a bit as he leaned forward and nearly growled while somehow still managing to sound almost eerily calm. “He left you to pay a $200,000 hotel bill?”

  “Technically, he left his credit card...” Nicki cleared her throat. “But the hotel said it had been cancelled and so they couldn’t put it through.”

  Russel didn’t answer. The sun set over the valley. Time slowed down entirely. Nicki was pretty sure she could hear crickets. And all through it, Russel just sat there completely still except for the part where he was breathing through his teeth. She was a little afraid steam might come out of his ears soon.

  “Did it never occur to you to ask me for the money?” he finally said.

  Um... “No. Not really.” Her eye began to twitch. That probably would have been a good idea. Except... “We weren’t really in touch so much then. I wasn’t about to call you out of the blue and ask you for $200,000. And change.”

  He breathed in again. Looked at her and then down at the table in front of him, before turning to Dana.

  Dana, who was looking hard at Nicki. “I think maybe we should hold off for now.”

  Nicki tried not to sniffle. She hated that they couldn’t just be happy about this. “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was him. Maybe if I’d vetted hi—”

  “Sweetie,” Dana said, leaning forward and placing her hand over Nicki’s. “You have nothing to be sorry for. He’s clearly an assh—”

  “I think what Dana’s trying to say,” Russel said over his wife, “is that we would never make you work with him. Especially not after what he did to you.”

  Oh. Nicki sat up straight. She wasn’t quite used to that kind of support. She certainly wasn’t used to it if it meant someone would lose out on that kind of money. “I’m okay working with him.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to put that on Russel and Dana. “I’m just worried about what he might do. I don’t want you guys to get...” A lump appeared in her throat. “...hurt.” Not that she hadn’t gotten over it all years ago, of course. But, well…

  His eyes burning into her, Russel could obviously tell Nicki wasn’t in the best place right now. But he also knew her well enough to know she wasn’t about to back down. With a resigned sigh, he turned to Drew. “What do you think?”

  Drew, who had been watching all of this carefully, nodded to his laptop. “I’ve already heard from his lawyer. I’ll have my real estate guy on it first thing tomorrow, but everything here looks legit to me so far.”

  Russel took a swig of his beer, and after another ten seconds finally conceded. “Jesus, Hollister, when you go big you don’t mess around.” He turned to Dana. “Did we seriously just make our first sale?”

  Oh, shit. Nicki was totally going to cry. To her embarrassment, she made a sound that came out halfway between a sob and a snort.

  Looking emotional himself, Russel turned to her. Then he grabbed her and pulled her to him, depositing a huge kiss on her forehead—the exact same kiss he’d given his quarterback after the winning touchdown in his first—and only, as it turned out—Rose Bowl win, all those years ago. “Pretty damn glad you joined the team, Hollister.”

  That he could still say so after what she’d just told him made Nicki almost lose it entirely. “Pretty damn glad you gave me a shot, Russel.”

  But much later, when Russel walked her out to her car, he gave her one more out. “This was an awesome day, no lie. But if Dana’s asshole of an ex was still around, and if he’d been the one who showed up, there’s no way I’d be letting this go through. It’s a great piece of land. We’ll find another buyer.”

  Nicki unlocked her car and put the leftovers Dana was sending home with her into the back seat. Nicki had known about Dana’s ex since he had been her current. She went way enough back with Brock to have been there for the fallout—she’d never seen Russel as drunk as he had been the weekend of Dana’s wedding. And when she’d heard Dana’s ex was out of the picture, Nicki had actually had a moment where she was afraid Brock had hunted the man down. She was relieved to hear that had not been the case because he was one of her best friends and she loved him. It would have sucked to have to visit him in prison.

  That all said… “I told you, Russel. I handled it. I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.”

  He frowned, his concern clear, so she added, “Trust me. I’ll hurt him if he does anything that blows back on you.” And she would, bodyguard or not. She gave a light punch to Russel’s shoulder so he’d know she was serious.

  He responded by giving her a noogie. So professional. But he still asked, “You’re sure?”

  Her smile might have been a little wobbly. She shared her father’s thoughts about quitters, however, and there was no way in hell she’d let Simon Grenville turn her into one. She most especially was not going to let yet another man derail her one bit. “I’m good.” She even meant it almost 100% of the way. “Plus, you’re an idiot if you give up a sale like that.”

  Just for good measure, she emphasized her point by punching Russel again, this time in the gut. Since he was 250 pounds of solid muscle, he didn’t even flinch. Instead he smiled down at her and opened up her door. “See you tomorrow, Slugger. Looks like we’ve got some work to do.”

  Despite the rehashing of events she wasn’t entirely proud of, Nicki was on enough of a high when she got home that not even the thought of the way things ended with Simon was enough to bring her down. In fact, she found herself sitting on her own patio late into the night with enough of a buzz that she wasn’t sure if she’d had a little too much to drink, or if it was just the after effects of being in Simon’s orbit again. Because no matter how much of a bastard he was, he also happened to be the only man she’d ever loved. And if her reaction to him earlier today was anything to go by, she was hoping the explanation he had for his ghosting act was laughable at best. If it had even a shred of something forgivable, she was in some seriously deep shi—

  Her phone pinged with a text.

  From Simon.

  There are some things we need to discuss. How does dinner sound?

  She sat up straight. Dinner sounded horrible.

  Full stop.

  Except she’d just told Russel she could handle this and avoiding Simon wouldn’t be a very good start. She willed her heart into beating at a normal rate.

  Sounds fine, she replied. Happy to get together the next time you're in town.

  It wasn't entirely a lie. If nothing else, he was ridiculously pretty to look at.

  His return text came almost immediately.

  Brilliant. Let's do Tuesday at eight. First and main. See you then.

  Well, damn.

  5

  Whereas Jeremy spent the next two days arranging security for a slightly longer stay—and muttering; there was a great deal of muttering—Simon immersed himself in becoming
reacquainted with the inner workings of the San Francisco office. He’d spent six weeks here just before his ill-fated trip to Vegas—it had been his first true experience at the family firm, and he’d spent more time resenting not being able to spend all his time surfing rather than actually doing anything productive. But some of the properties he’d a hand in acquiring back then were doing quite well and he already had some thoughts about expansion. Like vineyards. They had property in Tuscany and Rioja—why not in Northern California as well?

  All of which was an attempt at distraction, of course, because he couldn’t quite pinpoint why he decided to prolong his stay.

  “It’s a bit daft, isn’t it?” his sister, Gemma, asked when he told her. “Mum said you would only be there for a few days. She’s not happy, you know.”

  Their mother was rarely happy, something she made clear on a regular basis. Why should this be any different?

  Oh, right. It was different because Nicki could decimate the family’s finances if she chose to, and although she hadn’t made any further moves from what Simon could tell, everything felt a bit more volatile than was comfortable. Still... “Mum needs to find another charity.” She’d had too much time on her hands ever since Simon had come of age and taken over management of the company and the family’s extensive holdings. “And maybe you should go on holiday.” He didn’t like the idea of Gemma there alone without him as an intermediary. She was the baby of the family—only 25—and not quite hardened to their mother’s tirades.

  But she just cheerfully said, “I’m not a child anymore, Simon. You don’t always need to be the one to handle her. Just don’t go off and marry again.” She giggled even as Simon felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Which he refused to acknowledge had anything to do with Nicki.

  “I assure you,” he said in as wry a tone he could manage, “there will be no more marrying. Ever.” Or women of any kind. He’d learned his lesson quite well.