Resisting Nick (Wicked in Wellington) (24 page)

They growled up the previously overgrown driveway, spitting stones from beneath the tires. The arborists had cut back the tangled trees, keeping the best of them, shaping them into a welcoming avenue. Now the sunshine poured through and reflected off the dashboard trim.

Nick killed the engine and the music.

“Looking better?”
 

Sammie nodded numbly. She had bigger things on her mind than trees.

“Wait until you see the view now.” He flashed a smile as he undid his seatbelt, and loped around the car to open her door.
 

She walked a few hesitant steps and then gained speed, gazing ahead with sick fascination to the house she would never visit again.
 

The rasp of a circular saw sounded from the far side of the house, then stopped.

The ocean winked and twinkled below, much calmer than when she’d last visited, and much more visible. The rubbishy growth on the edge of the cliff had gone, exposing the spectacular coast in its entirety.
 

Nick stepped closer as if to kiss her, and she backed away a step. He advanced further, smiling and sure of himself. She retreated until she stood wedged between the house framing and his gym-hard body, then pushed at him with less than gentle hands.

“No, don’t. Please don’t. I’ve made up my mind, Nick. I’m leaving. I’ve booked the ticket. We’re done.”

His face changed in an instant from animated affection to icy puzzlement. His eyes narrowed, and he took a step away.

The silence between them stayed absolute for a short time. She dimly heard the occasional bleat of sheep in the nearby pasture and a distant farm dog barking.

“What do you mean—done?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his accusing face. Simply stood there waiting for her punishment. Finally he asked, “Sammie—why?”
 

“Get away from me, Nick. I’ve...had the weekend to make up my mind, and we’re finished now we both know what we want. Don’t make it worse than it has to be.”

She clenched her jaw to stop herself taking back the words. Someone seemed to have kicked the legs out from under her and beaten her senseless with a club. The pain rolled through in long intense washes.

Nick took another step away and slashed at the air with one furious hand. “What we both
want
?”

She looked up into his thunderous eyes. This was so not the way she’d meant to say it. And so not the place.

“We want different things. You’re committed to developing BodyWork into an international chain. You’ve said so several times. And I’ve told you and
told
you this was only a temporary job for me before I went traveling.”

She watched as he digested that. Saw his expression harden and acceptance set in.
 

God—what have I done? But I had to do it.
 

“I won’t be long,” he tossed over his shoulder as he turned and stalked away. He said it with no emotion, no warmth, no plea to change her mind.
 

Sammie’s spirit shriveled even further.

He strode off to speak to Evan and Brendan while she looked at the house with anguished eyes. Although she’d not told Nick, she’d seen his finished project so clearly in her imagination. Restored to the gracious home it must once have been, but with up-to-the-minute bathrooms, and a sumptuously appointed kitchen. With a generous number of bedrooms for his inevitable children and guests, and the huge living area with its amazing ocean views.
 

Maybe a big paved terrace extending close to the cliff edge? A flight of new steps down to the private beach? A future paradise, but not for her.

The noisy saw started up again and Nick reappeared. He led her back to the car, icily polite, for their return to the city. Music might have filled the humming silence between them, but he snapped it off when it started, and neither of them attempted further conversation until they reached the harbor. “Work or home?” he demanded.

“Work, thank you. My bag’s there. My car’s there.”

As they pulled into the parking lot he said, “I guess I need to call the temp agency yet again?”

It felt like a knife through her heart, final and fatal. “Yes please. I can finish out the week for you.”

“No— right now is fine.”

So that was the last word he’d say to her? ‘Fine’? Everything was far from fine, but at least it they’d settled it.

Nick shut himself in his office and didn’t reappear.

Sammie grabbed the bag from her locker and made quick use of the computer to see if she could change her booking to Sydney. She scored a single seat for the next morning-but-one, and escaped to her car without having to explain the situation to any of the staff she’d worked closely with.
 

When she dug into the bag for her keys, she found the parcel she’d prepared with such loving care for Nick.
 

Damn. I can’t face him again right now. I’ll take it in before I leave.

She drove shakily back to the apartment and phoned Tyler, acquainted her with an edited version of the facts, and offered to drop the key off.

“Why not stay a couple more nights?”
 

Sammie blew out a long slow breath. “No. I need to go back to my brother’s house and see them all for a while longer. It’ll be my last chance for ages. I might ask if he can sell my car, unless he wants to keep it for his older boy in a year or so. So it’s Sydney on Wednesday for starters. I loved it there.”

“Poor Nick—he hoped you might want the job for longer than this.”
 

She heard the speculation in Tyler’s voice and hastened to put her right. “I was only ever expecting to work there until my passport came through. I offered to stay the rest of the week but he turned me down flat.”

“Mmmm. I can come by your brother’s house and pick up Kell’s key if you like?”

“No—I’ll drop by your home with it. It’ll give me another chance to see your gorgeous daughter.”

This distracted Tyler enough to get her off the topic of Nick, so Sammie tried to relax and enjoy the chat for a few minutes. She slipped in the odd ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘really?’ but her attention kept straying across town to the man she’d just dismissed from her life.

Nothing she did for the rest of the day banished the misery of the morning.
 

She tidied and cleaned the apartment, packed up her clothes, and watered the repotted Kentia palm, the African violet, and the two begonias.
 

The sight of the taunting red panties in his desk, and the keys glinting malevolently on them, kept invading her brain. And much worse, the coldness in his eyes when she’d said they were through.
 

He’d barely reacted.
 

Just said ‘fine’.
 

She gave Zorro an extra long cuddle, topped up her supply of kibble and water, and drove out of the parking garage for the last time to spend two final nights with Anita and Ray.
 

And decided that right before closing time on Tuesday, she’d visit BodyWork and sneak Nick’s labeled gift onto the desk in reception.
 

She was done.
 

Nick seethed. How could she just walk out on him? After what they’d shared?
 

She’d got to him. To his tender, vulnerable heart. The part of himself he hid from everyone. The soft centre guarded deep within his hard-as-nails exterior. The place no-one had ever found. Except her.

Now he knew why he’d never trusted any woman, never wanted long-term. Sammie had slid back in to his life and ripped him to shreds. Spat him out like old gum. Flicked him away like a cigarette butt. He paced along the walkway beside the harbor, fuming and hurting.
 

Never again. Nothing was worth this.
 

He knew exactly when she was flying to Sydney—it hadn’t taken much pressure to persuade that information out of faithful Tyler.

Every time he glimpsed blonde hair tossing in the breeze, it wasn’t Sammie’s. Each time a car like hers coasted by, she wasn’t driving it. One more night of hell and she’d be gone and he could stop looking. Would stop hoping.
 

He kicked at the walkway planking, feeling the evening breeze on the back of his neck. Where she used to stroke him.

Dammit! Fuck!

He pulled in a deep breath of the salty air. Let it out again in a rush. Her last day here was nearly done. He needed to hit something. Hard. Needed a drink even more.

On the way back to BodyWork he grabbed a bottle of Scotch in case there wasn’t enough is his office cabinet. It was going to take a lot. He turned the last corner, and there went another bloody car like hers. He couldn’t see the driver. Of course it wouldn’t be her this time either. He grabbed his ever-ringing cell phone as he waved to Heidi who was locking up, then pounded up the stairs and through reception.

Bonnie—asking if he’d be home for dinner.

“Sorry Bon, got tied up with something. See you tomorrow.”

Into his office. Scotch straight from the bottle before he stripped off his jeans and jacket and headed for the punching bags. Still swigging.

An hour later, he was mostly drunk and totally exhausted. He collapsed on the sofa in reception feeling no better, and let sleep hit him like a hammer.
 

Around two, the vicious throbbing in his head woke him and sent him staggering off to the staff room for water. He fumbled around for the lights and then cursed as the blaze of brilliance knifed into his eyes. He gulped the first bottle down, praying for a fast miracle cure, then took another back to reception to drink more slowly.
 

Only then did he notice the neatly wrapped and labeled parcel. The dot on the ‘i’ of Nick was a star shape—something he’d seen her do before. He eased himself down into the chair behind the desk, squeezed his eyes closed, and upended the second bottle as he speculated what she could possibly have left him that he’d want.
 

Nothing. Nothing to remember her by—that was for sure.
 

He glared at the parcel, sucked down some more water, and finally gave in to his curiosity.

Here in good time for your check in,” the cheerful Maori taxi driver assured her, levering himself out from behind the steering wheel to get Sammie’s luggage. “You gonna be okay on your own with those two?”

“They’re both wheelie-bags,” she said with lightness she didn’t feel. “Nice and easy.”
 

‘On her own’ she certainly was, and she hated it. Anita had offered to drive her but Sammie had refused—no doubt offending her well-meaning sister-in-law. But Anita’s ongoing sympathy had her almost at screaming point, and she’d simply had to escape from it.

It was an ungodly hour, and dawn lurked somewhere behind heavy cloud cover.
 

She couldn’t help comparing her lonely trek across the airport floor to the happy journey she’d made the week before.
 

Then she’d been filled with elation and anticipation and the prospect of spending time with Nick.
 

Now she was running away to somewhere cold and empty of hope.
 

So much for her lifelong dream of seeing everything the world had to offer; the dream she’d tried to fulfill because it had meant so much to her parents. It had morphed into a futile escape from Nick’s accusing eyes—because she saw his face no matter how hard she tried not to.
 

His expression of disbelief, followed so fast by acceptance. She’d been a convenient short-term distraction and nothing more.

She stopped at the kiosk and printed out labels for her bags. The big one weighed safely under the limit on Anita’s bathroom scales. The smaller one squeaked in as cabin baggage.

The airport bustled, despite the early hour.
 

Filled with misery, she shuffled through the crowds, thinking her triumphant escape should feel better than a wrenching separation from the man who’d fascinated her forever.

 
She’d waited so long to be free...done her duty by Grandpa for those unexpected years...put her own life on hold in return for the time he’d cared for her. And this was her reward?

She heaved her big bag onto the conveyer belt and watched it creep inexorably towards the point where it would disappear.
 

Before that happened, a steely brown arm reached out and hauled it aside.

Nick stood there, red-eyed, rumpled, immovable, gorgeous. His hand grasped her case as though it was his personal property. Sammie’s heart thudded in her throat, and she lurched towards him, her cabin bag banging unfelt bruises onto her knee.

This wasn’t happening—she’d put herself through hell once and couldn’t endure it a second time. Desperation lent her courage. “Put that back!”

Nick’s expression hardened to granite. “It’s not going anywhere, and neither are you.” Determination showed in the taut cords of his neck, the set of his jaw.

“Of course I am,” she wailed. “Put it back.”

“Sammie...” He said it with such a mixture of exasperation and tenderness she stopped dead in her tracks. “You want to travel, come traveling with me. Don’t go skulking off on your own with a face full of tears.”

“I’m not,” she protested, wiping furiously at what were undeniably tears. “I’m not.” But it didn’t sound any more convincing the second time.

“What you did for me, what you gave me...was amazing.”

Her heart starting doing weird flip-flops, and a tremulous smile insisted on turning up the corners of her mouth even though she tried to fight them down again.

“With those details I can get a private investigator to search for her,” he continued. “And once I know she’s alive, and where she is, I’ll go and surprise her and see if I can put things right between us. Come to Italy, Sammie.”
 

He reached out for her cabin bag, and somehow her fingers lost their strength and she let him take it and set it down. “Start your travels with me. I love every infuriating bone in your gorgeous body. I want you in my future.”