“That’s not fair.”
“You’re damn right it’s not. You work like a dog. Everybody takes time off once in a while. You never do. So excuse the hell out of me for wanting to give you something you’ve never had.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You want to show me all I’ve been missing by taking me to a place I’d never be able to afford to go to on my own. Well guess what? I don’t care about any of that. I never have and I never will.” She clenched her hands into fists. “Don’t try and change me, Gavin. I am who I am.”
“This has nothing to do with me trying to change you, or seeing it as an opportunity to rub it in your face that I have a bigger bank account than you.”
“Yeah? Then how come you got so pissed off when you thought Vi was trying to buy Sierra’s affection? How is offering to take me on an all-expenses-paid trip to France any f**king different?”
“It’s a helluva lot different, but you’re too busy…” Goddammit. Take your own advice. Stop and think before you say something you can’t take back. “It’d be nice if you’d take that damn chip off your shoulder once in a while.”
“I will. Just as soon as you take that silver spoon out of your mouth.”
Fuck.
They were both angry. Breathing hard. Neither willing to back down.
The timer on her watch started to beep. She spun on her heel and left the room without a word.
He shouted, “Nice talking to you.”
That was mature.
He paced. Then he slumped against the wall. Was he really such a bad guy for wanting to spend some alone time with the woman he loved? Not that he’d told her that.
Would he ask her to drop everything and go to Paris with him if he wasn’t going for Sierra?
No.
Good thing that hadn’t come up, because it did put his offer in a different light.
Trying to get any work done in this frame of mind would be pointless. He changed clothes and ran five miles on the treadmill. Then he beat the crap out of his heavy bag until he could hardly hold his arms up.
After a long shower, he felt calmer. In a better frame of mind to tackle the problem, because it wasn’t going away, no matter how much he wished it would.
Paris.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Didn’t Gavin know her at all?
When had she ever let anyone pay for anything she hadn’t earned?
Never.
Being intimately involved with him shouldn’t earn her a trip to France, for Christsake.
Rielle placed the loaf pans on the cooling racks and loaded the next batch of bread into the oven. She glanced at the time. Noon. Where had this day gone? She set her watch and tackled the stack of dirty dishes.
Paris.
Besides, she didn’t have a passport. She angrily scrubbed the dishes. It was mortifying to admit that she’d never been on an airplane. She’d never been anywhere. She and Rory had taken a camping trip to Yellowstone once. She’d been to Denver a number of times. She’d driven into the Rockies. She’d visited the farm and range land in Nebraska. Same with the Black Hills and the prairie in western South Dakota.
So she couldn’t see herself buying luggage and boarding a plane that’d fly over the ocean when she’d never actually seen the ocean.
That is not Gavin’s fault.
Maybe she did have a chip on her shoulder.
Or worse, maybe she had the fear if Gavin took her someplace sophisticated, she’d embarrass him with her wide-eyed wonder. Maybe he’d realize that if she couldn’t live in his world even temporarily, then he couldn’t live in hers either.
Damned if she did; damned if she didn’t.
Once the dishes were done, she updated her short to-do list. This was the slow time of year for her.
Gavin knew that. Was that why he’d suggested taking a trip now? Because he understood how hard she’d be working again in another few months?
Possibly. But she didn’t believe it was a coincidence that Sierra’s mother was living in Paris and all of a sudden he planned a trip there. Was he trying to prove something to his ex-wife by inviting Rielle along? Especially since Sierra had mentioned her mother’s boyfriend?
Another three hours passed. She was thinking it odd she hadn’t seen Sierra or Gavin in the kitchen looking for food, when Sierra walked in.
Rielle smiled. “I wondered if you were so engrossed in your homework you forgot to eat.”
Sierra shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
That didn’t sound good. “You feel sick?”
She looked away, but not before Rielle noticed she’d been crying.
“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
Then Sierra threw her arms around Rielle and sobbed.
Caught off guard, because this was unlike Sierra, she rubbed circles on the girl’s back, trying to soothe her.
It must’ve worked because Sierra sighed. “Thanks for the hug, Ree. I’m just having a shitty day.”
Welcome to the club. “You’d probably feel better if you ate. I made a loaf of pumpkin bread. Would you like some?”
“Sure.”
Sierra watched from the breakfast bar as Rielle sliced two pieces and poured a cup of milk.
A small smile played on Sierra’s lips.
“What?”
“It’s like you’re feeding me milk and cookies.”
“Have you ever seen me bake cookies?”
Sierra’s brow furrowed. “No. I guess I haven’t.”
“That’s because I suck at cookies. I burn them. Or I undercook them. Or they’re too big. Or too small. Or they’re too squishy. Or too hard. So I’ll stick to baking breads, rolls and muffins.”
Sierra pinched off a corner of the bread and popped it in her mouth. “My dad used to eat a big blueberry muffin and a banana every day for breakfast. It drove me crazy because he never ate anything else. If he couldn’t have that then he wouldn’t eat.”
“I remember. But I’ve yet to see him eat a single muffin since he’s lived here.”
“Not on his diet anymore. Now he eats cereal or yogurt. Or something else disgustingly healthy.”
Rielle laughed.
Sierra broke off a couple more bites. Then she said, “I heard you guys fighting earlier.”
She blew across her cup of tea. “Does your dad know you overheard?”
“No. He’s been locked in his office.” Sierra looked up. “My mom wants me to come to Paris for Christmas. He won’t let me fly alone. So that means he’d be stuck in Paris for two weeks.”