‘It made me look like a fool when you bailed me up after your presentation.’
‘That wasn’t my intention.’
The dubious glint in her eyes indicated she didn’t believe him and as she took a sip of wine, he continued. ‘Okay, I’ll fess up. It always amuses me when people pre-judge because no-one really knows what’s going on behind our masks.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Like you thought, when people look at me they see a successful guy in an expensive suit. Short back and sides without stubble, so I must be clean-cut. Designer watch, so I’m rich. None of them know I’ve experienced stomach aches from being hungry or watched my fingernails turn blue because sleeping in a car in the dead of winter is no fun.’
Stricken, she lowered her wine glass and placed it on the table. ‘I did judge you and I’m sorry—’
‘Don’t apologise. I’m merely making a point: that’s why I didn’t correct you, because we all do it and it wouldn’t have changed anything. We were strangers and you were entitled to your opinion even if it was so far from the truth it wasn’t funny.’
‘We’re not strangers now though,’ she said, surprising him when she moved from her chair to sit next to him on the sofa. ‘And I know this is none of my business, so feel free to tell me to butt out, but how did you end up living in a car?’
She was right. His past was none of her business. But he’d come here with the sole intention of getting her to loosen up a little, to make their professional dealings moving forward easier, and revealing a snippet of a past he’d rather forget would be a small price to pay to get her onside.
‘My dad was a gambler. Mum had no idea until she got a call from the bank asking about outstanding loan repayments, when they’d paid off their mortgage two years earlier. Apparently, he’d run up such a huge debt he’d taken a new mortgage on the house, and we ended up losing it, losing everything. Dad did a runner, leaving Mum and me to live in her car.’
He didn’t like the pity he glimpsed in her eyes, but he didn’t mind her placing her hand over his where it rested on his thigh. ‘Mum was too ashamed to tell anyone what was going on, but one of my teachers at school twigged to our living situation because she swam laps at the local pool every day and saw us showering there several times. Then Mum got sick and by the time the social worker got us emergency accommodation …’
A sharp pain stabbed his chest, a pierce of regret that his gorgeous mother had died too young because of his father’s selfish indifference. At the time Hudson was distraught and filled with hatred, and while he now understood the vagaries of an addiction, he still couldn’t forgive Rowan. Not that his dad hadn’t tried reaching out, but Hudson didn’t want anything to do with him.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She flung her arms around him and, for a horrifying moment, he felt the sting of tears burn his eyes.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d lived with the pain of losing his mum for two decades and he never cried over it—certainly not with a woman he barely knew. But there was something about being wrapped in Karly’s arms, the way she hugged with her entire body, a fierceness to her embrace, that made him want to bawl.
When she released him, the sheen of tears in her eyes almost undid him all over again, so he reached for the dark chocolate block. ‘I’m so glad you don’t like this because after oversharing like that, I need to demolish it myself.’
‘Go ahead,’ she said, her genuine smile making him happy he’d revealed so much … almost.
There was a vast difference between fostering a friendship to make their business dealings easier and telling her way more than she needed to know. He didn’t like showing weakness and he hoped she wouldn’t misinterpret his revelations as a vulnerability she could exploit. If so, she was in for a rude shock. He never lost in business, not these days. The youth housing project was his passion and he wouldn’t let anything derail it. That meant ensuring he got his hands on Karly’s agency sooner rather than later.
As he stared at the block of chocolate in his hand, he couldn’t help thinking what he’d just done could backfire. In trying to gain her trust, he’d opened up in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and he didn’t like the resultant feeling: uncertainty and embarrassment mixed with a healthy dose of WTF.
He needed to get out of there, pronto.
‘Actually, I think I’ll take my block to go.’ He stood, ignoring her open-mouthed surprise. ‘I’ve got some work I need to look over.’
He didn’t wait around to hear her response as he practically bolted for the door.
CHAPTER
15
Heidi understood why Jem had suggested a late dinner at the pub. Most families had cleared out by seven and the locals who rose early by eight, so dining at eight-thirty meant fewer prying eyes privy to their date and that was fine by her.
Date.Even now, as she waited in her car parked opposite the pub, she couldn’t believe she’d confessed her old crush to Jem. He’d been nothing but professional during his appraisal and she’d made a fool of herself. As he’d said, what man would knock back having a woman admit she liked him? She hoped this wasn’t a pity date, him feeling obliged to ask her out because she’d been so pathetically obvious.
The stupid thing was, she had no idea why she’d done it. Being transparent had never been her forte. Heck, she’d spent years married to Bert, never having the courage to tell him how stagnant she felt, how their marriage had become a routine. Yet she’d barely been in Jem’s company for half an hour and she’d blurted the truth about her crush.
She blamed hormones. Being perimenopausal had to be wreaking havoc on her body, and along with the occasional night sweats and irregular periods, maybe blabbermouth was a scientifically proven symptom too.
‘Idiot,’ she muttered, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of her skirt for the hundredth time. Even that was an anomaly. For all her dates with guys from the Happy app, she’d worn black pants or jeans, going for a hip vibe considering the age of her dates. But with Jem, she’d dressed up a little, wearing her favourite aubergine chiffon skirt and fitted black blouse with a flounce at the hem. Definitely overkill for a weeknight dinner at the pub, but she’d made an effort because she wanted Jem to look at her like he had at the end of the appraisal: like he was seeing her for the first time and liked what he saw.
A car pulled up behind her and the headlights flashed, sending her pulse into overdrive.
Jem.
He’d offered to pick her up, but she’d insisted on driving because she liked having a speedy getaway if needed. Not that she anticipated their date being a disaster, but she had no idea how much they had in common and she’d hate being stuck making small talk if they ran out of things to say after mains.
Fixing a smile on her face, she stepped from the car and waved. She could see his grin illuminated in the streetlight as he got out of his car, and she bit back a sigh of relief as she caught sight of his outfit. He’d dressed up a bit too, wearing a black open-necked shirt and black slacks that lent him a dangerous edge. She couldn’t believe he was almost seventy. In her twenties and thirties, men in their seventies conjured up visions of flannelette pyjamas, slippers and walking sticks, yet Jem was so far from that stereotype it made her swallow a guffaw.