Beauty and Her Boss
“What?” He gave her an innocent look.
“Don’t go acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been avoiding me at all costs ever since we made love.”
“I’ve been busy.” His phone chimed. He withdrew it and held it up as proof of his business. Then he silenced it and slipped it back in his pocket.
“Fine. We’ll play it your way.”
“I’m not playing. What happened was a mistake. One we shouldn’t repeat.”
She managed a shrug as she wasn’t so sure she trusted her voice. It took her a second to swallow the lump in the back of her throat. With a blink of her eyes, she mustered up what she hoped was a blank expression. He wasn’t the only actor here.
Willing her voice not to waver, she said, “And the golf course? What do you think of that?”
“It’s good.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “After all this work, good is all you have to say?”
His gaze didn’t meet hers. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“More than that. My lunch was good. Your haircut is good. But the transformation of this estate from an unruly jungle to a work of art is spectacular.”
He sighed and then proceeded to rub the back of his neck. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong.” He turned to her and apparently her thoughts were reflected on her face because he said, “What happens if the report on the accident comes out between now and then?”
“We deal with it.”
“What if it says I’m to blame?”
In all honesty, she wasn’t sure how she’d cope if the report really did say that Deacon was responsible for the accident that stole away her aunt, no matter how sure she was that he was innocent. B
ut now Gaby understood why he’d pulled away from her. The accident was like a deep chasm between them, and try as they might, it was hard to cross.
She wanted to believe she would be able to move past the accident—to not hate him if the truth turned out to be different than what she imagined. But she knew that emotions could be tricky. Her father was a prime example—who’d have thought he would be arrested for stalking and harassment? Her father had never been in trouble with the law before in his life.
Not wanting to get caught up in the what-ifs and maybes, she said, “Would you like to give it a go?” She gestured toward the golf clubs that were all spiffed up and standing next to the house in a special shed. “The clubs are just waiting to be used.”
He hesitated and she was certain he was going to turn her down. And then he said, “I’ll do it, if you do.”
She shook her head. “Not me.”
“Why not?”
“I—I prefer to watch.” She really didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know a putter from an iron. Those were terms she’d heard the groundskeepers throwing around.
Deacon arched an eyebrow as he stepped closer to her. “Are you afraid I’ll beat you?”
He was challenging her? Oh, boy. Maybe it was time for her to fess up. “No. I’m not worried.” There was a glint of excitement in his dark eyes. He definitely had the wrong idea and so she said, “I don’t know how to golf.”
His eyes widened. “But you’re the one who suggested making this a golfing event.”
“I know I did. You did happen to notice that most of your yard is taken up by a nine-hole golf course?”
“But usually when you host an event, you know how to do the said event.”
Now she understood his confusion. “But see, I’m not the host, you are. The fund-raiser is in your mother’s name. This is your home. And the people are coming here because of you—”
“No. They are coming because they are curious to see the recluse and find out if I’m an ugly, scarred mess like the tabloids have portrayed.”
“Whoa! Whoa!” She waved away all his worries. “That isn’t why they’re coming here. They’re attending the event to support a worthy cause.”