Page 5 of Enamored
Holden jogs up the steps and extends his hand for her to take, leading her to the truck. Then, he pulls my suitcase out of the truck bed and plops it next to me. I try to protest, but Tristan grabs the handle and pulls it behind him.
“Hey, wait!” I call after him, trying to walk on the dirt path.
“Should have worn different shoes, princess,” he calls over his shoulder, not slowing down.
I take my shoes off and pull on the folded-up pair of flats in my purse. I jog and catch up to him a few moments later. He glances down at my footwear and shakes his head.
I toss my arms up in annoyance. “What? What could I havepossiblydone to offend you now?”
“Nothing. Come on. Let me show you to your cabin. You can change into something more suited for the ranch, and we can talk about what I want.”
What I want is to slap you so hard your head spins.I smirk as I picture myself doing it. Slapping him as hard as I can, putting all my anger and confusion from ten years ago into it. I hope it hurts like a bitch, too.
We walk in silence the rest of the way, and when he pushes open the front door to the cabin, it’s like a time warp. I’m an eighteen-year-old girl again. Everything is exactly how I remember it, with the exception of the couch and curtains. Those have been updated.
I suck in a deep breath as I cross the threshold, feeling as if I’m going to faint. The familiar scent of the wood and ranch permeates the air, bringing me back in time. Tears pick my eyes, and I look up at the ceiling, trying to keep my emotions in check.You’re a badass. Badasses don’t cry!I take my suitcase and drag it to the room my parents stayed in. Not a chance in hell I am staying in my old room again.
“I’ll meet you at the main house in thirty minutes. Is there Wi-Fi, or will I need my notepad instead?” I start unpacking my stuff, not giving him a second glance. He stands in the doorway, watching me. I can feel his eyes boring into me. I fight the urge to turn and look at him as goosebumps form across my body.
“Wi-Fi works, princess.” He leaves without another word.I hate that fucking nickname all ready.
I change into jeans and a t-shirt and pull my chucks on. I sling my laptop bag over my arm and head back toward the main house. I replay our initial interlude and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. He hasnoright to be mad at me. As I pass the barn, I hear a couple talking over the sound of the horses. I stop dead in my tracks when I recognize the woman’s voice.It can’t be!
I pop my head around the corner and see Mr. and Mrs. Carrington, then hide as quickly as I can. I don’t want them to see me. Russ has been trying to get into my pants for the past few years. I went to visit him for a two-week trip, and the entire time he was hitting on me. I may have given him a pity make-out session because I was sick of seeing him try so hard. Really, it was kind of pathetic.
I couldn’t wait to go home and get away from him. Our conversations are limited now. I usually tell him I’m busy, and it’s a quick hello and goodbye. He doesn’t need to know I’m back at the ranch, though, and I’m sure if they see me, they will tell him. I walk faster, taking longer strides to the house when I hear my name.
“Lana? Is that you, darling?” Mr. Carrington asks.
I turn and look back, placing a surprised smile on my face. “Hi, Mr. Carrington. Nice to see you. I didn’t know you still come here.”
“Simone and I come back every few years. It’s great to see you. Are you planning any more trips to England?”
I shake my head. “No, work is keeping me busy for now.”
I tell them about my job and how I am here on a work assignment. Simone and James seem interested in the interior design part of my job, and she even asks if I would be willing to send some designs her way. I dig out a business card and tell her to check out the website. If she’s truly interested in servicesQuill and Smith Designscan provide, she can work with them directly.
Tristian is walking toward us but stops in his tracks when she says, “We’ll tell Russell we saw you and said hello.”
My eyes focus on him. I want to see him in the same pain he left me in ten years ago. Pulling out my best acting card, I respond in the sweetest voice I can muster. “That would be great. I miss having chats with him. It’s been too long. I’m sorry to run, but Tristan is waiting for me.” I motion to where he’s standing, unmoving. I see the tick in his jaw and smile to myself.
I wave as I pass him on my way to the house. He catches up a moment later, and I keep my eyes trained down, watching his lean legs as he stays beside me.
“If I can’t expect you to be punctual, I’m not sure this arrangement is going to work,” he quips. It’s like a jab to the gut, and it’s not going to fly.
“I assume you don’t want me to be rude to the guests that seem to visit here often. Unless you prefer for me to tell them what an asshole you truly are, and I’d be more than happy to do that.” I risk a glance at him. He narrows his eyes at me and looks away.
“The only asshole is their son,” he mumbles.
Tristan has never liked Russ. Why would I assume he would like him now, after all this time? Just to dig my claws in a little deeper, I say, “At least he didn’t leave me for dead in a field.” Anger flashes across his features. I feel it in the air around us; it’s suffocating. He opens his mouth to say something, and I hold my palm up, stopping him. “Tristan, you’ve hired me for a job. Let’s keep this professional, and we’ll both get through it alive. I don’t need to rehash the past. What’s done is done.”
“You never gave me a chance to explain.”
“Your note said enough.” I take a seat at the picnic table and open my laptop, ending the conversation. “Tell me what you want.”
He tells me all the things he wants done with the cabins—new window treatments, new furniture, wall decorations, et cetera. Then he gets into the fun parts—expansions. He wants to build another set of cabins that can be used as a bed and breakfast sort of experience. The guests that choose to use this option will have use of the land for hiking, swimming, and lodging, but will not have an all-inclusive experience like those staying for a week.
He’s animated, and his smile is infectious as he talks about his plans for the future. He reminds me so much of the boy I fell for all those years ago, especially when his chestnut locks fall over his eyes and he pushes it away. I hate to be the one to burst his bubble. “Okay, so I have a question. After you build these cabins, how will you know if the guests are doing the full experience or just a few nights’ stay?”
