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“In the nightstand by my bed in New York. Top drawer, you can retrieve it whenever you like.” I shrug and he looks even fiercer.
“What the fuck, Candace? Are you shacking up with some randy farm hand?”
I laugh at that one, but sober when I see he’s actually serious. He looks angry and hurt.
“How did you even know I was here?” I finally ask, still bewildered as to how he tracked me down so quickly.
“Your credit card alerts come to me, Candace, remember? And after several months of inactivity, all of a sudden there’s a flurry of shopping in Kansas. Not a single purchase in France or any other part of Europe. Didn’t really fit the profile of a stolen credit card.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that, but I wouldn’t have worried about it, even so. “I thought we’d be having this argument by phone,” I confess.
“What argument?” he sounds as baffled as I feel. “And why did you lie to me, Candace? If you didn’t follow a man, what the hell is going on here?”
3
Glass in hand, I head with purpose toward the sunken living room that is the absolute coolest part of the house. The rest isn’t bad, but this room is like the walk-in dairy section at the big box stores. Maybe it will also cool any rising passions. Yeah, right.
Nick’s reaction shocks me, and I’m struggling with how much to reveal in turn. My instinct is to protect myself, but he draws me to him like a magnet. I perch on the edge of the coffee table and wave him towards the couch. But he stops at the door, filling it completely, and leans against one side. I’m effectively boxed into the large room, since that’s the only way in or out. I sigh and study my ragged nails for a few seconds, trying to regain my earlier composure. “Nick, I’m beyond confused. You only married me because of my father’s will, and your friendship with him — which was nice of you but I’m not your responsibility. Never was. You’ve never shown any interest in who I saw or where I went, let alone wanting to claim me as your wife in any way. So why areyouaskingmewhat’s going on?”
I dare to raise my eyes to his, searching for any clue of something I might have missed over the past year.
He practically growls, “You were grieving. What kind of lowlife would take advantage of a young woman when she’s just lost her last surviving parent?”
I snort at that one. “Is that the best you’ve got?” I can feel my temper start to rise at what sounds like platitudes you would give to a young child to distract them from the topic at hand.
Nick shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Since I own your building, the staff do report to me when I ask them to. And I know you’ve had no visitors other than female classmates in the last year. They were under strict instructions not to allow anyone male over the age of sixteen up to your place. But it was never an issue, so I assumed you were taking your time coming to terms with the changes in your life and finishing school. So I don’t know who seduced you, but they clearly had ulterior motives if they avoided your place of residence.”
I stare at him, wondering how that level of checking on me could have gone on for so long without my knowledge. I know why I never asked any men over, but he doesn’t. And it’s not like there weren’t available candidates already living and working in the building, which he clearly hasn’t considered. I’m not quite brave enough to point that out to him. “Okay, so you were waiting? For what? A sign from the heavens?” This is one of those weird dreams that makes no sense. It has to be.
Nick continues to avoid my actual question. “There are… all kinds of reasons why you and I aren’t a good fit, Mouse. The age difference doesn’t help. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by while someone takes advantage of you.”
The use of his old nickname for me, which I haven’t heard in years, has tears pricking my eyes. I blink them back. I’m not letting him off that easy. He opened the worm can, he can just deal. “Then why are you here? I’m an adult, I don’t care about the money and it’s not like I’m involved with anyone else. Although even if I was, I’m still not sure why you’d care.” I’m genuinely bewildered by the way his forearms tighten, meaning the hands he’s jammed in his perfectly tailored pockets are clenching. My brow furrows. “Nick? You didn’t even want to live with me in the same apartment. That, and I’ve seen the number of ‘appointments’ you have with women on your calendar.”
That takes him by surprise, and he visibly relaxes. Not all the way, but there’s a clear lessening of tension in his arms. Which is odd. But now it’s his turn to blink in confusion. “What? What on earth are you talking about? What women?”
Is he gaslighting me? I know what I saw on his calendar and it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. “Where do you go after our Sunday dinner? Hmmm, Nick? I’m well aware you don’t go straight home.”
His neck flushes a dark red around his collar. If this wasn’t Nick, I’d be scared right now. He averts his gaze, visibly gulps and then mutters something.
“Louder, please.” I’m getting angry that he’s trying to avoid my obvious knowledge of his whereabouts.
“Therapy, Candace. I go to therapy.”
“Sex therapy?” I screech, jumping up from my impromptu seat.
He gapes at me and then laughs. A genuine belly laugh but with a dark vein running through it. “Where on earth did that come from? Only in the sense that I talk about why I can’t let you go, but also can’t bring myself to touch you.”
His words sink in like poison-tipped knives. I flinch and my stomach bounces like someone really did punch me. I’m too shocked to even cry, but that doesn’t stop the room from spinning. Strong arms scoop me up before I hit the concrete floor.
“Stubborn little mouse, I swear you go out of your way to misunderstand me,” he mutters as he carries me into the regular living room, which is a more normal room temperature. I push at his arms, desperate to escape to somewhere I can hide and lick my emotional wounds, but he cages me in.
“Candace, look at me. Candace!” he barks and my gaze jerks up in response. “You will not leave this room thinking I do not ache for you. That claiming your sweetness is the only thing I’m capable of thinking about late at night when my cock is desperate for release.”
My brow furrows deep enough to hurt as I try to reconcile both his statements. I gawk at him, searching his dark fathomless eyes, trying to fit everything together.
“Maybe you had better start at the beginning.” I suggest weakly, hiccuping slightly and barely able to get the words out, my body still aching from his previous rejection.
He eyes me warily and then nods sharply. “I did not want to do this, but yes, now you force my hand, little one. Maybe it’s time for a new nickname too, eh?” His arms that had held me loosely enough on his lap to keep space between our bodies pull me tight. I’m stiff, unwilling to relax against his hard chest and let down my guard. Nick sighs over the top of my head. “Yes. Something stubborn, I think. But still shy. Perhaps you are a mole, instead of a mouse?” He’s making an effort to tease me like he did when I was little, but those days are long gone.
