Page 62 of Taming Her

“A deal.” Is that what this had been? Her mind was racing. If she really learned how to design gardens, work with them, could she make it a success?

“Yes, Ava, a deal? We’ll go to your place and collect some of your things, and in return you’ll promise to be here when I get home from work… every time.”

“Yes. Yes.” She stood.

He did the same.

“Yes, you have a deal.” She shook her head. “It’s a great idea, this course. I never would have thought of it.”

He grinned and slipped his arms around her waist. “You see, Ava, as I’ve been saying, you don’t always know what is good for you.”

“But you do.” She looped her hands around his neck and kissed him. Letting him know with her mouth how much she adored and appreciated him.

* * *

Griff picked up his old guitar and slipped a thin black strip of leather into his pocket.

He called up the stairs, “I’m going to the end of the garden.”

“Okay.”

He smiled. Ava was unpacking the ridiculous amount of clothes and shoes she’d brought from her house. Not to mention the vast array of toiletries he didn’t know existed—exfoliating foot scrubs, pore-refining clay masks, dry shampoo. In what world did shampoo not need water?

Wandering over the patio and past the well, a calm air settled over him. He guessed that’s why he’d had the urge to play a few tunes. He’d always had to be in the right frame of mind to pick up his guitar.

And it seemed Ava, his first love, his one true love, moving into the cottage had given him that peace of mind. He wasn’t counting his chickens before they hatched, though; he had a few more of her demons to banish before she was his for the long term.

But progress was good. Now that she was eating healthily, sleeping properly, she was also thinking with more clarity. Add in her enthusiasm for the landscape design course, and he was feeling the most optimistic he had since he’d seen her that night in The Blood Hound. She was barely recognizable as the pinpricked-pupiled, self-obsessed, flighty party animal. Now her real beauty could be seen, inside and out. And wow, she was a stunner.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “I’ve got it bad. Real bad.”

Any bolts he’d locked around his heart had been well and truly unlocked by the woman who’d put them there in the first place. He loved her. He wanted her every minute of every day for the rest of his life. That wasn’t a new idea; it had been going around his conscious and subconscious mind for years. Only lately it had taken root, breached the surface, and was shooting up into a reality.

But even if she learned to trust him and believe in her heart he wouldn’t dismiss her the way her father always had, did she truly want him for the rest of her life?

He ducked under a branch. No, it was too soon to ask her that, or even hope for it. The test would be when he went back to work. Had he given her enough discipline so her own self-regulation had been nurtured? Was her self-esteem, her optimism for the future sufficient that she could be trusted not to drink, or worse still, leave?

The end of the garden came into view, the wheat swaying in the breeze. There was something he needed to do, somewhere he needed to take her. It was important so she’d get an insight into who he was, deep down, and how their life could be together.

The only question was would she embrace it, or would it make her flee? Would the extent of his need to dominate, the alternative lifestyle he wanted make her disappear into the sunset the way she had before? Leaving him broken, shut off, and in a black sea of pain.

There was only one way to find out.

He sat on the rickety bench and tuned his guitar. Happy with the strings, he began to play.

His mind went to a Jack Johnson song about second chances, a melodic tune that flowed from his fingers, the lyrics coming back to him from long ago. He became lost in the words, their meaning, and the repetitive movement of his fingers. It fed his spirit and was good for his soul. Ava was on his mind with every syllable and pluck of the strings.

When he reached the end he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tipped his head to the sky.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Ava stood at his side, a smile tugging her mouth, her hands together. “I haven’t heard that for years.”

“I haven’t played it for years.” He set the guitar to one side.

“Play me something else.”

“I will in a minute.” He patted the bench. “Sit.”

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