Page 70 of Lighting Up Christmas

Riley pulled out her phone and put it on night mode and started to take pictures for her website update she was going to start tonight. Then she was going to start sketching out new designs for next year.

When one door closes, another opens.

It was something her mother used to say. Riley usually believed that. Despite losing her mother early to an unexpected illness and bad surgical outcome, she’d always been pretty optimistic and determined.

Tonight though, it was harder to keep the faith and cheer than usual.

Chapter Thirteen

“What is ityou have to say?” Zhang asked after pouring Brin a glass of his Tempranillo. She hated white wine, likely because she perceived it as less elegant or expensive as the big reds.

“Do you have to be so abrupt? It’s been two years.” Brin settled back into the cushions of his couch and crossed her legs. Her wrap black dress parted, giving him a long look at her toned thighs encased in sheer black stockings.

“It’s been two years.” He averted his gaze.

“Not so long to forget,” she said softly, sipping the wine.

“Long enough.”

“You still talk like you are in a Harold Pinter play.”

“Do I?”

“Why are you here in the middle of nowhere? Your business is in Cupertino. Your colleagues are in Cupertino. Your condo is in Cupertino. I am in Cupertino.”

“We broke up.”

“Yes.” Brin sighed. “But we were good together.”

“Were we?” Zhang wanted to pace. No. He wanted to put her back in her rental SUV and send her on her way. He had no need to rehash the past.

“You can’t say that you don’t think about us.” Brin leaned forward so that he could see the gentle swell of her breasts as the wrap dress draped open a little.

“I don’t think about us,” he admitted. “I did. But now I don’t.”

Except when Riley had said or done or reacted in some unexpected way so totally different from Brin, and his relief at being out of a relationship with Brin had only increased.

But that was not what Brin wanted to hear.

“I think about you,” she said.

“Why?”

“Zhang,” she sighed, her voice critical.

He much preferred the way Riley said his name, like a song, not a curse. But how had Riley got him so wrong? An ice dragon. Was he still icy? He felt so different now than when he’d first bought the land and had started making plans. Brin had thought his idea of living in the country even for a weekend at a time was stupid.

“Why are you here, really, Brin?”

“Harrison has asked me to marry him.”

“Congratulations.”

“Really. You’re okay with that?”

“It’s not my decision. We broke up. You left.”

She laughed and stood. She walked around his living room, her gaze a combination of critical and curious. “I was upset,” she said, standing in front of one of his paintings and sipping her wine. “You always put work in front of me. In front of us, and I was trying to get your attention.”

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