I glanced over at her as she took her long hair in her hands and used a rubber band from her purse to put it up in a knot. Tendrils slipped down around her face where they always seemed to be when her hair was up, apparently too silky to stay put for long. I wondered what that hair would feel like wrapped around my fist.
Damn it! Shut those thoughts down.
She was a conundrum. A pretty princess with the temper of a fiery, little witch. I liked to make those crystal-green eyes flash with heat. I wondered what she’d be like in bed. A hot, little temptress who… Goddamn. I gritted my teeth, frustrated with my thoughts as the gardener’s cottage came into view. She’d surprised me by making the choice to stay in that dirt-caked space that only had cold water. Surely she wouldn’t have used the shower? Yet somehow she looked fresh and clean. I cringed at the thought of the dank rooms. It really wasn’t even livable. Why she wanted to spend five minutes there, much less inhabit it, was beyond me. I’d lived in a small concrete cell for five years and even I wouldn’t have any desire to live there. Of course, maybe that was precisely why. I couldn’t abide small spaces for long. Many nights I’d woken up in a cold sweat from nightmares about my time inside. I’d never spoken to anyone about my experience, and I doubted I ever would.
For a very brief moment, the feelings of loneliness and grief, my constant companions during those five years, assaulted me, and I felt heavy with the weight of my own failures. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed the memories away, turning my thoughts back to Kira Dallaire and the fact that she was living in my gardener’s shed. Apparently, I’d misjudged her at least in some small measure. I wondered what other secrets I’d discover about her if I cared to look hard enough.
Which I didn’t. Not in the least.
When I came to a stop in front of the cottage, she hopped out of my truck and stood in the open doorway for a moment. “I’ll be ready for our appointment in the morning and then I’m going to drive to San Francisco tomorrow to take care of a few things. I’ll be gone through the weekend.”
I nodded. That suited me just fine. And I figured she needed to shower at some point. The less I had to see of her before our wedding, the better. The less I’d have to think about the reality of it. “Okay, meet me out front at eleven.”
She nodded and closed the door, turning and walking through the foliage. I sat there for a minute, warring with myself. It really wasn’t right to let her stay there. Christ, screw it. It’d been her choice. Maybe a dose of hard living would be good for the princess. Or was it that witches preferred small houses in the woods? I couldn’t help chuckling to myself as I pulled away.
* * *
The appointment with Mr. Kohler went smoothly and quickly. We weren’t agreeing to a settlement “should” there be a divorce, but rather stating we would both leave the marriage with only that with which we’d arrived. The contract was extremely straightforward, and we made an appointment for Thursday to come in and sign the paperwork. And with that, we were finished with the red tape involved in our union. I made an appointment at the clerk’s office for the following Friday morning at ten a.m. The only thing left to do was to show up. My stomach felt slightly queasy. If Kira’s green-tinged complexion was any indication, she did as well.
I dropped Kira off at her cottage and told her I’d see her on Monday. She didn’t look back as she walked away. As quiet as she’d been after our appointment, I half wondered whether she’d return at all. Maybe it’d be best if she didn’t. But I didn’t believe that. For the first time in a year, I felt an eager anticipation for the future. That morning I’d opened the list Walter had made of equipment needing repair or replacement and felt a flutter in my gut. Soon, I would be able to go down it and check the items off one by one. Tension had released in my shoulders and I’d finally allowed full-blown hope to surge through my system. The power of it had left my heart beating wildly. When was the last time I’d felt that sensation? I couldn’t remember. “I won’t let you down,” I vowed for the hundredth time, addressing my father. “I’ll make you proud of me, I swear it.” I had to believe that, somehow, he’d know. It was what kept me going.
I spent the weekend working with renewed vigor. There was going to be a lot of work to get done despite the incoming funds. And I still had a meager staff. I’d have to hire a couple more people once I had the actual check in my hands, or at least knew it was coming very shortly.
When I arrived back at the house Sunday night, I remembered the bottle of Vosne-Romanée I’d asked Walter to bring up to the main wine cellar. Pangs of guilt and despair had crippled me when I’d considered selling my father’s pride and joy—his rare wine collection—to bring some much-needed income into the vineyard. The thought alone had felt like a betrayal. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to salvage all that was precious to you. Relief at not having to go through with selling it was overwhelming. Success—another thing I hadn’t felt in years settled in my heart.
When I saw Walter, I instructed him to put the bottle back in the lower wine cellar where it’d originally been kept.
“Yes, sir. I’ll do it this week.”
“Thank you.”
“And may I offer my most heartfelt congratulations on your…marriage, sir?” The word marriage was offered with the coldest disdain I’d ever heard from Walter. And that was saying something.
“No, Walter, you may not.”
Walter’s lip quirked. “Very well, sir. I do wish you the best, however. My mother used to say that marriage is much like wine. They both mature slowly and grow deeper and more complex with time.”
I turned to Walter. “Walter, I think you know as well as I do that my marriage will not be allowed to mature. It’s temporary—for business purposes only.”
“As you say, sir.”
I halted, frowning at him.
“I do say.”
“Very well, sir.”
I scowled at him and started for the stairs before I got overly annoyed with the man. He had a way of making me feel like I was twelve again. And he had a way of making me question myself with his insolent, “yes, sirs” and “no, sirs.” I’d fire him for real one of these days. Without severance.
I ate dinner alone, wondering when Kira would return. I hadn’t asked her anything about her trip. I didn’t want to set a precedent that we would ask about each other’s whereabouts or actions. I certainly didn’t want her thinking she could do that with me, and I had no desire to do it with her. Still…if she’d changed her mind, I’d rather know now than have to wait for her to call me at some point this week after not showing up.
Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and used the cell number I’d only used the one time before, when I’d visited her at her motel room. I debated what to say in my text. I didn’t want to leave her with the impression I was checking in with her.
Me: Should I have Charlotte keep a plate warmed for you?
A few minutes later, my phone beeped.
Kira: That’s thoughtful, but no, thank you.
I scowled. Was she dense?