I’ve gotten all the proposals I need from Mr. Lachlan Henry. I’m still debating the one currently on the table. “I’m not looking to get an invite to his family’s house. Or a marriage proposal.” I take the red and white furry lingerie from her and admire it in the mirror. “He’s asked me to spend the next few days with him. And nights. Maybe I need this. What do you think?”
“You didn’t tell me you’d be staying over at his place. That sounds more serious than a couple of dates.”
I hang up the Santa outfit and pull a naughty-elf set from the rack. “I don’t know. He asked, but I haven’t decided yet.” That’s another lie. I know I’m staying with him, but I don’t want to sound like a ho, so I pretend I’m unsure. And I pretend like I don’t know if I’ll buy this lingerie. But that’s a lie too.
I hear fear is a gift. In the event that it’s true, I’m very gifted today. I’m almost shaking as I wait for Lachlan to arrive.
My phone starts singing “Talk Dirty to Me,” so I answer and try to sound like I’m not a bundle of nerves. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you. I’m almost at your place. Do I need to come to the door to challenge lover boy for your hand?”
That might be the case if Ben were here, but he’s not. Thank goodness. “I’m the only one here. I’m ready so I’ll come down and meet you.” I hang up and slip my Lachlan issued cell into my purse next to my own. I grab my floral duffle and lock up.
As I come out of the apartment building, Lachlan steps out of a fancy-ass convertible wearing faded jeans and a khaki button-up. It’s not dressy; it’s rugged, more like what I’d expect someone to wear in the outback. And I’ll be damned if he’s not wearing an Indiana Jones hat. Even out of a suit, he’s hotter than the devil’s ass.
This is going to be a great couple of days.
He meets me halfway on the sidewalk. “No suit today, I see.”
“As promised.”
One promise kept. We’ll see if he keeps his other.
“I see you have a bag.” He grins and kisses my cheek as he reaches to take my bag from me.
“It doesn’t mean I’m staying.” That’s such a lie. I wonder if he can tell by looking at me.
He cocks his head. “An overnight bag doesn’t mean the same thing in the US as it does in Australia?”
“This one means I like to be prepared just in case.”
“It feels heavy to me, like you’re prepared to stay a couple of nights.” He reaches for my hand and holds it as we walk to the car. This is him getting an early start on ridding us of our stranger anxiety.
“We’ll see how things go.”
He pops the trunk and puts my things inside the sporty, and very expensive, black convertible. “I’ve never seen a car like this before. What kind is it?”
“A Fisker Karma Sunset.”
“I’ve never heard of that before. It’s … stunning.”
“I know.” He opens the door for me. I get in and watch his beautiful form walk around to the driver’s side. Let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t agree to a three-month fling with this man?
I know I’m going to agree. And he knows it too. He’s said as much, but I can’t let him think I’m giving in so easily.
He starts the car. It has a deep roar. “Top up or down?”
“Down, but let me grab a ponytail holder out of my purse.”
“There’s some in the glove compartment.”
It’s only a ponytail holder, but there’s no way I’m wearing anything belonging to number one through twelve. He reaches over to open it and notices my expression. “I didn’t ask you to wear another woman’s undies. My little sister has long hair and she likes to ride with the top down. She keeps a stash in there.”
Nice recovery.
I take the holder from him and pull my hair up, wondering if he’s bullshitting me about his sister. “Ready.”
The drive to the vineyard outside Wagga Wagga is beautiful. We pass mile after mile of grapes on the way to the house and as we get closer, I see a traditional old-world-style mansion in the distance. It looks Italian, not Australian, but then I’m not really sure what I think constitutes Australian architecture. “Miss Beckett, this is Avalon Vineyard.”
Wow. It’s incredible. “Your boss must think a lot of you if he puts you up in a place this nice.”
“You could say that.”
When we get out of the car, Lachlan walks around to the trunk. He lifts his brow as he asks, “Since you don’t know if you’re staying, does your bag go inside or remain in the trunk?”
He is dying to hear my confirmation, but I’m not finished having fun with this little game. “Umm … I think it’s fine to take it inside to one of the guest rooms.”
“I don’t know why you’re pretending you might say no.”
Because this is your game. These are your rules. I need to feel like I have control over some aspect of it, even if it’s only for a little while.
Our first stop is the kitchen. It’s beautiful and fitting for the house, like one of those grand Italian kitchens from a luxury home magazine. At least, that’s the only time I’ve ever seen anything like it.
There’s a basket of goodies on the counter, so I walk over and peek inside. It’s filled with an assortment of food, and of course, a bottle of wine. “Very nice.”
“I can’t take the credit. Mrs. Porcelli packed the lunch for us.”
“Who’s Mrs. Porcelli?”
“She does my cooking and housekeeping.”
How odd. His employer pays him enough to employ someone to do his cooking and cleaning. “Will I meet her or does she fall into the friend/family/identifying information category?”
“I haven’t decided, but it won’t be today because she’s already gone.”
“Because of me?”
“No. She’s gone home for the holidays.”
That’s right. Christmas is only a few days away. “So she doesn’t live in Wagga Wagga, either?”
“No. I employ her the same way I do Daniel. They go where I go.”
They go everywhere with him. How much does it cost to have employees like that? I can’t imagine it being cheap. “Daniel is on holiday as well?”
“Yes. All the vineyard employees are gone until Monday, so it’s just the two of us. Alone.”