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“Stop trying to avoid the issue, Nick. Explain.”
He leans back into the depths of the big couch, taking me with him. “Very well. But know that I do not willingly tarnish the image of your father.”
I still, holding my breath. Nick’s language only reverts to that stilted European formality when he’s upset about something. My dad was no saint and a mostly absent parent, but he did his best. As I got older, I appreciated more that he never made false promises. Nine times out of ten when I asked him to come to some school event or take me somewhere he’d say something along the lines of ‘No can do, kid. Got a big meeting that week.’ But on the rare occasions he did say he would be there, he came. That happened just enough to keep me asking until I got to high school, when it just didn’t seem worth the bother. But he never lied, and he didn’t make me feel that I didn’t count. Just that business was more important. So I respected him, but I wouldn’t say we were ever close. I’m not sure how much of that Nick really understands.
“A few years before he died, your father did not take my financial advice. He didn’t take it to the tune of several million dollars.”
I try to piece that apart and put it back together. “You mean he made some bad investments. Ones that you weren’t overseeing.”
“Yes. He came to me much later and confessed. Asked for my help in righting the ship. He borrowed against your trust fund.”
I jerk my head up sharply. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
Nick keeps his gaze steady on the opposite wall. “It depends. In this case, because he had set it up, and it was his money to begin with, then, yes, he could. And he did. It was then that he asked me to take care of you if anything happened to him before the fund was restored. He knew you were — are — stubbornly independent, so when he got sick, we added the clause in the will so you could blame him and not rebel against my protection.”
A new sinking feeling assails my stomach. This is more of a queasiness than the sharp pains of earlier.
“It was all your money, wasn’t it?” I whisper with dread, feeling my second-best dream gathering speed, ready to swirl down the drain, leaving me with nothing to cling to. “My allowance, the so-called inheritance?”
Nick looks ready to deny it, but then gives a sharp nod. I close my eyes to try to absorb the truth. “So this is really your house.”
“No! I gave you that money with no strings, little mouse. You were grieving. Honoring your father’s final request.”
I snort at that one and Nick looks down at me like I’m acting delusional. “Nick, you knew my dad better than anyone. He had two favorite topics of conversation after business; golf and how I never did what he told me.”
His lips quirk, as if he’s reviewing old movies in his mind and confirming my statement. “True. But death is different, little one. He wasn’t there for you to rebel against anymore. That had to have been a shock. Why else would you agree to an arranged marriage with a grumpy bastard like me?”
I keep my eyes cast down to avoid revealing the truth, but I can feel the burn of a telltale blush sweeping over me, making the curve of my cheek burn with embarrassment.
“Candace?” Nick’s voice is quiet, but it’s also knowing, like he’s just slotted the final piece of the puzzle together. I lean forward and bury my face in my lap to avoid the inevitable.
The heat of his massive hand hovers over my back. I wait breathlessly for it to descend, but instead he shifts his weight slightly. Then thick fingers with a surprisingly soft and dexterous touch press gently at the base of my skull.
“Little Mouse, it seems we are at an impasse. I have no business wanting you in the way that I do so without your explicit encouragement… and I have never yet fucked a woman who wouldn’t look me in the eye. I’m not going to start with you. And you, you are not ready to ask for what you think you want.” Amusement tinges his voice, but I can hear the thread of steel running through it.
“I’m… it’s a lot to take in,” I mutter, sitting up slightly but keeping my eyes glued to his chest.
“What is?”
I wave my hand around the room. “That this belongs to you, really. That you say you’ve wanted me. Want me now. But you’d rather tell a therapist, afemaletherapist, about it instead of talking to me.”
“So we have trust issues in common, eh, little mouse?” His hand resumes slow circles on my back. It’s relaxing and comforting in a way that makes me want to curl up against him. “Will you come back to New York with me now?”
This time, I bolt upright and stare him straight in the eye. “No.”
“No?” He looks open but confused, like I just announced plans to vacation in Siberia after discussing tropical islands for an hour.
“No.” I steel my expression, determined not to be won over by his natural air of authority. “You can stay here, though. With me?” I ask hesitantly, still not confident that he wants me in his life in any way, shape, or form that isn’t related to some old-fashioned sense of duty to my father. And I haven’t even told him yet that I’m a virgin.
He’ll either run for the hills or lock me in a castle tower with that one. I shiver slightly at the thought of being completely at a lusting Nick’s mercy. It sounds intriguing and, well, I’m instinctively clenching my thighs together. I’m still shocked though at his bluntly sexual statement. I had absolutely no idea. I’m still not sure I’m not hallucinating or that he’s… I don’t know… exaggerating to make me feel better? Sometimes I thought he maybe liked me… a little. But not that he wanted to devour me. What else don’t I know? I scan his face one more time, wondering if a more mature, experienced woman would see something I can’t.
His gaze softens slightly, but his hands tighten possessively on my body. “Maybe for now you should start by explaining the strange attraction Kansas holds for you, little one. I confess I do not see it.”
4
I tug Nick urgently towards the propped open glass door of Dot’s Diner. It’s next to an auto-parts store on one side and an empty lot that legend has it once held an old house that got turned into a run-down store some time before it burned down about fifty years ago. I hear a slightly different version every time I ask one of the old timers about it. I can’t think of a better place to introduce Kansas to Nick than Dot’s.
Nick, though, looks extremely skeptical. “Come on, Nick.” I prod him gently with one eye on a family of eight making strides down the sidewalk towards us. Not only will they probably take up two adjacent tables, but they’ll crowd the aisle while they wait for them. There’s nothing rude in keeping to a normal walking pace which will put us inside the diner’s door first.
