Page 38 of The Wanderer

He'd been about to say something else and the way he'd ended with deliberate crudeness while unable to meet her gaze told her so.

"Pity there hasn't been much of that going on this week." She met his gaze boldly, challenging him to tell her the truth about why he left in the wee small hours several days ago. "I didn't like waking to find you gone."

He grimaced and swiped a hand over his face. It didn't eradicate the tension bracketing his mouth and the creases around his eyes. "Sorry. I needed to be on the job site early to oversee a delivery personally."

His guileless smile didn't fool her for a second. "But you're pleased with the results and that we finished ahead of schedule, yeah?"

"I'm thrilled."

He'd given her the perfect segue so she slid her hand into her bag to grab the box. "And to show you how much I appreciate the amazing job you've done, here's a little something to say thanks."

She handed him the gift-wrapped box, hoping he liked it. She'd never bought a gift for a…lover before. Heck, it felt weird labelling him that, even in her head. But what was he? More than a friend, less than a boyfriend, lover seemed to fit even if they weren't doing much of the physical loving this week, worse luck.

"You didn't have to do this," he said, taking the gift tentatively, as if handling a ticking bomb. "I provided a service for you, nothing more."

Even though he was referring to renovating her studio, that stung. Is that how he viewed their relationship too?

Swallowing her disappointment, she pointed at the box. "Go ahead, open it."

He took a painstakingly long time tugging on the crimson bow, sliding his thumb beneath the tape on either side before lifting the wrapping and finally undoing it completely. He slid the box out and smoothed the embossed ebony gift-wrap, as if he didn't want to open the box.

Hope bit down on her bottom lip to stop from blurting 'damn it, hurry up'. She held her breath when he finally lifted the hinged lid on the box.

When he caught a glimpse of the gift inside, his jaw dropped a tad.

"This is too much." He shook his head, a disapproving frown slashing his brows as he placed the box on the table and nudged it towards her with his forefinger. "I can't accept this."

The breath she'd been holding whooshed out in disappointment as he averted his gaze from her and the box, his mouth compressed into an unimpressed line, his eyes narrowed.

He didn't like it.

"I bought it for you, I can't return it—"

"Yes, you can." He snapped the box shut so loud she jumped. "You've just spent twenty grand on a watch for me and you don't think that's over the top?"

"I can afford it…" she trailed off, realising her mistake when he pushed his chair back from the table and stood, his expression resigned.

"I can't do this, Hope." He held up his hands as he backed away. "The fancy restaurant, the expensive watch…this isn't me."

To her mortification, tears sprung to her eyes, and he muttered 'fuck' when he saw them.

"I have to go. I'm sorry," he said, spinning on his heel and striding towards the steps leading to the marble exit.

She wanted to go after him, to explain how they were more alike than he thought, two loners with major trust issues searching for a way to fill an emptiness in their lives for however long it lasted.

She wanted to tell him that the watch was nothing more than a thank-you gift and it was more than she’d given any guy since Willem.

She wanted to assure him that she had the end-date in sight too, that no man could convince her to put her heart on the line ever again, that she didn’t want anything from him bar his body.

But she didn't.

She reached for the watch, placed the box in her bag, and gestured a waiter over.

She would order the most expensive wine on the menu, choose her favourite dishes, and finish with a melt-in-the-mouth crème brûlée.

She may have the safety net of her grandmother’s trust fund but she made her own money and spent it the way she wanted to, and she’d be damned if some guy with a hang-up would make her feel guilty for enjoying the spoils of her success.

And she sure as hell wouldn't have her memories of this wonderful place ruined by an insensitive clod.

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