Right Number, Wrong Girl

I shook my head. “No, I think I’ll cook something here. It’s been a really long day, and I made a very bad choice regarding some Sauvignon Blanc last night.”

Yeah. Just one.

His face dropped a little bit, and a shiver of guilt went through me.

Had he… just asked me out?

“I’m sorry,” I said, wringing my hands together as we both stood up. “I just really need some time alone.”

He waved his hand. “It’s fine. I’ll grab something to take home with me. I was just wondering, given that your lunch was a giant bag of salt and vinegar crisps.”

“Wow. Are you judging me?” I teased, walking him to the door.

He laughed and opened it. “No shame, but I’m definitely more of a cheese and onion guy.”

“Ugh.”

“You sure you don’t want anything? I can drop something off for you.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. I should really eat a salad or something. I’ve eaten nothing but pub food for the last few days.”

He chuckled. “All right. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will. Thank you. And for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” He winked and walked through the front garden, pausing at the gate to wave goodbye.

I waved to him and headed back inside. We had gotten a lot done, and what we’d achieved were the things that the duchess was most concerned about.

Yet it felt like I’d made no progress at all.

With a sigh, I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. I’d told Henry I was going to make a salad, but honestly, a sandwich was so much easier.

Three knocks sounded at the door, and I dropped my head back with a small groan. If that was Henry again, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I couldn’t go out with him for dinner because I’d drunk-kissed his brother last night and that was all kinds of wrong.

I was most definitely not that type of girl.

I’d read enough romance novels to know that shit ended in tears. Usually the heroines.

I didn’t want to cry, thank you very much.

I shut the fridge and walked through the cottage to the front door. “Henry, I—” I stopped. “You aren’t Henry.”

“We don’t look that similar,” Hugo drawled. “Were you expecting him?”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I shot back. “And no. He left a few minutes ago, and I thought he was back for something.”

“Wonderful. Can we talk?”

“I’d prefer we didn’t. Also, I haven’t eaten dinner yet, so it’s never a good idea to talk on an empty stomach.” Not to me, anyway.

I went to close the door, but Hugo stepped into the doorway.

“Do you mind?” I said, shoving it into him.

“Do I mind you shoving the door into me? Not really. You’re not terribly strong,” he answered. “Do I mind you deliberately avoiding me instead of discussing what happened like the adults we are? Very much so.”

I stopped trying to cut off his shoulder with the door. “I don’t see that there’s much to discuss,” I said honestly. “I had too much wine and made a terrible error in judgement. It was a mistake, and it never should have happened. Thank you for listening. Goodbye.”