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Only one thing would clear a debt of that magnitude so gaining her promotion was a necessity.
In choosing between owing her dad a huge amount of money and agreeing to Nick's outlandish proposal as a means to an end, marrying Nick would be the lesser of two evils.
Chapter Nine
She'd come.
Nick squinted at Britt from his crouched position behind his motorbike, equal parts surprised and relieved she’d turned up.
She'd left a message for him at the hotel desk requesting a meeting and he’d suggested they meet at the farm, hoping the memories might throw her off balance—make her vulnerable, more easily manipulated.
He hadn't anticipated those very same memories might unsettle him too, and with Britt dressed in a short white skirt and pink top, gnawing at her full bottom lip—an action he remembered all too well—cleaning his bike was the last thing on his mind.
He waited for her to speak, continued polishing the chrome, an action he found soothing. He rarely got time to lavish on his baby these days and this was the first opportunity he'd had to work on his motorbike in months.
Even with Britt’s forget-me-not eyes clouded with worry, tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail and draping her face in golden copper, and the gnawing that drew attention to her lush mouth like it always had, she looked incredible, like his greatest fantasy come to life.
That’s what she’d always been for him, a fantasy; not that he'd ever told her. He had his chance ten years earlier and she'd made it more than clear what she'd thought of his rebuff back then.
'You blow this chance, Mancini, you'll never get another one. This is it, you and me, together. So what will it be?'
His answer had been pretty clear. He'd given her one last kiss, a bruising, harsh kiss to say goodbye to the best thing that could've happened to him, pushed her away, and said, 'There is no us, Red. And there never will be.'
She hadn't cried and he'd admired her for it. She hadn't clung or tried to change his mind. She'd shot him a pitying look, shook her long red mane, held her head high, and walked out on him, leaving him with an ache in the vicinity of his heart. An ache that had returned tenfold despite all his self-talk that what they'd shared back then was nothing more than a teenage fling.
Ignoring pointless memories, he stood, tucked the polishing cloth in his back pocket, and leaned against the motorbike.
'You made it.'
For a second, he wished he hadn't sounded so flippant as her eyes clouded with wariness.
'Yeah, thanks for agreeing to meet me.'
The hint of vulnerability in her voice, in her expression, stunned him. The Brittany Lloyd he knew would never show weakness in front of anybody, least of all him.
'Let's pull up a seat.' He pointed to the outer perimeter of the machinery shed, where a few old-fashioned plastic garden chairs lay scattered. 'Have you given more thought to my proposal?'
Stupid question. As if she would've thought of anything else since she'd stormed out of his office yesterday.
She ignored his question and said, 'I want to talk about my father.'
No way. If there was one topic of conversation off-limits, that was it. Darby Lloyd was an absolute bastard. He'd controlled everything and everyone in this district, and had set out to ruin Pa.
Until Nick had given him what he wanted.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Nick said, 'I don't have much to say on that topic.'
'Not many people do. But I want to know something.’ She hesitated, her pallor a worry. ‘Did he ever approach you about me when we were dating? Did he try to interfere?'
His blood chilled. No way in hell he'd ever tell her the truth about her father.
Besides, Darby hadn’t been the cause of their break-up. It had been much easier to blame their disintegrated relationship on Britt wanting to escape Jacaranda for the bright lights of a big city.
That way, he could live with himself and what he'd done.
To help justify their break-up he'd told himself women were fickle. His aunt had run off to Melbourne with a salesman, his godmother had absconded with the butcher to Bunbury, his mum had abandoned her family, and Britt had followed suit, hightailing it to London as soon as she hit eighteen.
Britt might have invited him along for the ride at the time but he'd known that was due to the teenage fantasy she'd built in her head, the one where she saw him as some fairytale knight riding his white horse to save her.
