Six Month Rule (Kingston Ale House) (18 page)

He leaned forward to kiss her, and she backed away after a quick peck, realizing the door was still open. She reached around him and pushed it shut, heart thumping in her chest. True, she loved her stars, but they didn’t make her pulse race like this.

“Are you tipsy, Mr. Evans? Because you seem to have an alarming lack of propriety for being at the home of your girlfriend’s parents.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, and Will’s brows rose.

“I
am
tipsy,” he said with a crooked grin. “Your mum hasn’t let my glass go empty all night.” He pulled her hand free from where it still covered her lips. “Am I your boyfriend, Ms. Chandler? I don’t remember our arrangement specifying labels.”

That was the problem. Will was mildly drunk and teasing her, but this didn’t feel like an arrangement anymore. He’d told her he loved her when he thought she wasn’t listening, but he’d never let her in on the part of his life he kept separate. And the crazy part was, Holly understood. It made sense, maintaining some level of disconnect. So why was she suddenly looking for things like labels that made their setup all too real?

His smile fell.

“Right. I get it. I’ve made an arse out of myself in front of your family. I will tell Shelly I am cut off from here on out—
just
as soon as I finish this glass.”

He swirled the wine in the goblet, and dammit, he was irresistible like this—funny, relaxed, his guard down. Holly thought the only time he really let everything else fall away was during sex. That was when she saw him, or as much of him as he’d let her see. Right now he wasn’t the man with one foot out the door, always feeling like he should be somewhere else. He was just a guy who’d had a little too much to drink and made goofy jokes and laughed at them even if she didn’t.

“I’ve never seen a picture of Sophie,” she said.

Will’s expression sobered.

“What?” he asked, but she could tell from his eyes, from the way they tried to focus anywhere but on hers, that he knew it was true. Will Evans had a shit poker face when he was buzzed.

“Will…come on. What kind of a
girlfriend
doesn’t know what her boyfriend’s daughter looks like? You’re right. We never discussed labels, and we probably shouldn’t start now. I’m Holly. You’re Will. We have a good time together—and some really great sex. We don’t have to call it anything when it’s almost over.”

She gulped down her wine and moved to step past him and back into the house. She knew it was cold outside, but all she could feel was the heat of the wine traveling to her belly and the knot in her throat warning her not to say any more.

Will stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t meet his gaze.

“She’d adore you, you know. Sophie.”

This got her attention, forcing her to look up at him.

“She would?”

He nodded.

“You’re brilliant, successful, beautiful. You’ve got legs that go on for miles when you wear your damn stilettos.”

Holly narrowed her gaze.

“I thought we were talking about why Sophie would adore me.”

He laughed quietly.

“I don’t—
No
one I date meets Sophie, not unless I think she’s the one. Because until that point, both my daughter and whoever I’m dating have the potential to get hurt. I know what it’s like to be parted from someone I love more than my own life, and I don’t want anyone else to feel a fraction of that, not if I can help it.”

She reached a hand to his cheek, his skin warming her chilled palm as it rested against his light beard.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you what a great dad you are,” Holly said, and Will breathed in, a slight hitch in his breath. “I know I’ve never actually seen you in action, but I see how much you love her. I see what you do for her with the beard and the photos and the shaving when you go home. Everything you do is in her best interest, and I love y—” She stopped before she revealed herself too much. “I love the way you worry about her. I do. But god, Will. The weight you put on yourself, worrying about everyone else’s happiness? What about yours?”

He shook his head. “My what?”

Holly groaned. “Your happiness.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “I’ll worry about that when Sophie’s eighteen. Maybe thirty. Not sure yet.”

Something in her heart sank, because he was 100 percent serious. As good of a father as he tried to be, he was putting his needs on the back burner for his daughter.

So she slid her hand to his neck and urged his head down toward hers. She kissed him, and he kissed her back with such sweetness, it made her heart break just a little, not that she’d ever had a broken heart before.

“How about”—she whispered against him—“you let me worry about it tonight?” She bit his earlobe, just a light nibble. “Come home with me,” she said. “And I promise I’ll put a smile on your face.”

Will hummed, the vibration of the noise pulsing through her.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, her voice hoarse now.

He laughed. “I’m not sure,” he said. “You didn’t say
May I
.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Holly rolled to face Will, her naked body flecked with sunlight as it filtered through the leaves of the tree outside her window. God, he loved how comfortable she was with him, that she didn’t cover herself up to sleep next to him, even after they’d made love. And now, as morning brought everything from last night into focus—being welcomed by her family, realizing that Sophie would love her like he did—it made his heart swell even more to see her bared to him like this, a groggy smile on her face.

And…it also made him hard.

“I did it. Didn’t I?” she asked, the words coming out with a yawn.

“Did what?” He traced lazy circles around her belly button. He watched her nipples grow firm and grinned, though he knew he didn’t have time to do something about it. It would have to be quick or not at all, and he was nothing if not a man who liked to take his time. Plus, if he wasn’t back at the hotel within the hour…

“Will? Hello? Anyone home?”

Shite.

“Sorry, what?” he asked.

Holly’s eyes narrowed at him, and he felt the warmth of her palm on his upper thigh—a palm that must have been there for several seconds while she was, no doubt, speaking to him without getting any sort of answer. Christ, he knew his focus was crap if he didn’t notice her touching him…

“Your happiness,” she said, voice firm. “I thought that’s why you came home with me last night, to let me worry about your happiness. Which, by the way, I think I
did
, splendidly. But you’re somewhere else right now, and it’s freaking me out a bit.”

So many things were left unsaid last night. He’d thought he’d have more time to let the alcohol wear off, to tell her properly how he felt or maybe for her to do the same. But they barely spoke a word on the train back from the suburbs, and when they made it through her front door, well, they’d both been at a loss for words. Not that anyone was complaining.

And now? Now there was no time to talk, because his worlds were about to collide.

“I…have to be…somewhere else,” he said. Then he kissed her, fighting the urge to linger, before climbing out of her bed.

“Wait,” she said, and he turned to see her pull the sheet up to cover herself. Something in that gesture tore at him. It was clear she knew he was keeping something from her, and she wasn’t wrong. “You’re kidding, right? I know our usual drill, Mr. Evans. On workdays you go back to your room to regroup, show up at the office alone, so no one suspects a thing. I can’t even bring you coffee because it’s too familiar. Maybe it was silly to assume today would be any different.” She raised her brows. “And for the record, I make a delicious cup of coffee. It’s no quadruple shot of espresso, but it’s
good
.”

His eyes widened.

“Really?” she went on. “You’re surprised that I know you so well?”

She let out a long breath, room enough for him to speak, but he didn’t. He hung on to the anticipation of what came next, because either it all came crashing down right now, without him having to hurt her, or he’d bought himself a few more days.

“But I don’t really know you at all. Do I? You’re a fixture in my professional life. My personal life. And now you’ve filtered into my family life. You’ve seen it all, and you’ve shown me nothing.”

Will climbed into his jeans and let out a sigh.

“That’s not true,” he said, and she opened her mouth to argue. But he would have none of that. She didn’t get to play this card. “Yes, we’re brilliant as business partners. And we have done things in that conference room that would get us both fired, and I don’t even work for Trousseau.” He couldn’t help but smile at that last remark, but Holly’s expression remained impassive. “I’ve had dinner with you and your sister and friends, and it’s been lovely. And it was equally lovely to meet your parents. But come on, Holly. That’s hardly me seeing it all. It’s me seeing snapshots of you through other people’s eyes, a distorted view. And do you want to know what a distorted view is?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“It’s safe, Holly. Bloody safe. It’s no different than the way I compartmentalize for you. It’s just your own particular method.”

God. If he could just explain that it was
because
he loved her that he was pulling back now—but he was shite with articulation when she was arguing with him naked. He wasn’t supposed to find anything to make him happy in Chicago, yet here was this woman who was as brilliant as she was maddening. A woman he loved more every second he was with her. And a woman who believed she couldn’t love him back—not for the long haul.

The thought hit him like a tidal wave, and he staggered as he gathered his clothes. Did she notice the wind being knocked from his lungs?

His shirt was on now, and he was searching for his missing sock, choosing to abandon it for the sake of getting a cab back to the hotel.

“I have to go,” he said, wriggling a bare foot into his shoe.

“Back to your own safety?”

Her question wasn’t angry, only matter-of-fact. She did know him. Too well. Which was why he had to leave before he did something crazy, like asking her to come with him. To
stay
with him. But this was just a game to her. Wasn’t it? She wasn’t fighting for
him
to stay. Only challenging why he had to leave.

“I guess you could call it that,” he said.
Or
, he thought,
straight into the danger zone
. Either way, the clock was ticking.

“I’ll call you this evening,” he told her. “It’s probably a good time to have a chat.”

When she nodded, agreeing to his call rather than telling him he was daft and should come by tonight to say whatever needed saying in person, he wondered if this was the beginning of the end. He knew people in relationships argued. It’s not like this was out of the ordinary. But what were they fighting for in the long run if there wasn’t a long run to begin with? He thought he’d be okay with it, because, dammit, he and Holly Chandler did not make sense. But the facts did nothing to cull his emotional reaction. Whatever happened from here on out, Will was in Chicago for four more weeks and then back to England. For good.

His steps were leaden, those that carried him from her bedroom to the front door. And the short ride back to the hotel was excruciating because she didn’t even try to stop him. She let him go—like she’d said she would, like he’d believed she would, but right now, like he wished she hadn’t.

“Cash or credit, sir?”

Will rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He pulled his bank card from his pocket and slid it through the credit card machine.

“Credit, thanks,” he said. Then he stepped out of the cab just as a door in the cab in front of him opened as well, a small pair of red trainers hitting the pavement before the passenger hopped out and made eye contact with him.

“Daddy!” she yelled and barreled into his arms as he dropped to a squat so she wouldn’t have to reach.

“Soph!” He buried his face in her dark curls, his voice cracking before he could utter her full name. He stood, her hands still hooked around his neck, and spun her in a circle, his heart leaping into his throat. He didn’t know how he did it, stayed away from her so long and survived. Every reunion between the two of them made each parting that much more difficult.

He kissed her cheeks through her peals of giggles and hugged her tight again.
This
, he thought.
This is why my happiness is on hold.
Nothing he could want for himself could make up for the father he should have been in Sophie’s early years, the one he was still learning how to be now.

“I missed you so much,” he told her. “Shite, I missed you so much.”

She laughed again then whispered in his ear. “Daddy…no cursing or Mummy will be cross with you.”

Will laughed at this, too. Tara was cross with him more often than not. A slip of the tongue was the least of his worries.

“William…” His back was to the taxi line, but he didn’t need to turn to match the look on Tara’s face with the tone in her voice. He didn’t
need
to turn, but it would probably be rude to speak to her like this. So he lowered Sophie. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she laced her fingers with his, both spinning to face her mum—his ex.

“Hi, Tara.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek.

“I see you’re just getting home,” she observed. “Some things never change.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, jaw clenched. But he would not engage her with Sophie here. There was no argument between him and Tara anymore, only the one she wanted to perpetuate despite her being the one to leave
him
.

“William, mate. How’s our man about town?”

Phillip, Tara’s husband, was the last to emerge from the taxi. Oddly enough, Phillip was often his ally in awkward meetings with his ex, probably the whole keep-your-enemies-closer deal. But Will wasn’t a threat to them, never had been. Someday Phillip would realize that.

He shook Phillip’s hand, his other still in Sophie’s.

“Morning, Phillip. Flight okay? I did offer to send a car for you all.”

Phillip stepped around to the back of the taxi where the driver unloaded their luggage.

“Nonsense, William. Everything went swimmingly. Sophie slept quite a bit on the plane, and Tara enjoyed a few cocktails while I got some work done. Can’t complain.”

Will guessed Tara had a thing or two to say about Phillip working on the plane, but then again, Thanksgiving certainly wasn’t a bank holiday in Britain. This was just another weekend for Phillip.

“Daddy, whatever will we do today?” Sophie asked, and Will let out a long breath. That was his Sophie, always interrupting just in time to ease the tension. Would it always be like that? Would she always have to bear that burden even when she didn’t realize she was? God, he hoped not.

He picked her up again, rested her on his hip, and smacked a loud kiss on her cheek, causing her to burst into giggles again. That was more like it. He opened his mouth to tell her about his plan for the day, to bring her to the Shedd Aquarium while Tara and Phillip slept off their jet lag—that was the deal—but was cut off by the sound of tires screeching and someone wailing on their car’s horn.

His head jerked in the direction of the commotion, and that’s when he saw Holly picking herself up from the curb across the street, an angry driver yelling at her from his window.

“Sorry,” Will said, placing Sophie’s hand in Tara’s. “I just need to…” He trailed off as he stepped out into the street, holding up his hand for oncoming cars as he jogged to where Holly now stood, one palm braced against the pillar of a streetlamp, the other on her heaving chest.

“What the hell are you doing, lady?” the driver was yelling. “If there had been black ice there, I wouldn’t have been able to stop!”

“Fucking hell!” Will yelled once he made it to the other side of the street. He had one hand on the man’s door where the window was open. The other reached for Holly, who grabbed it and squeezed it tight. “Maybe she slipped on some ice herself, you bloody arsehole. How about asking the lady if she’s okay?”

“Fuck you,” the driver said, closing his window and forcing Will to pull his hand away. Will jammed the heel of his hand into the top of the door before the guy sped off, a whole string of curses spilling from his lips that he hoped weren’t loud enough for Sophie to hear—or worse, Tara.

He shook his free hand, having hit the car harder than he’d intended, and turned to face Holly.

“Christ, Holly! What the hell were you doing?” Both hands were on her cheeks now. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?” He glanced down the length of her body as he yelled his barrage of questions, his eyes stopping where her jeans were torn at the knee, the skin scraped and bloodied underneath.

“You
are
hurt,” he said, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were focused past his shoulder and across the street to where he knew Tara, Phillip, and Sophie stood.

She pulled away from him. “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have— Shit. What
am
I doing here?” She limped as she took a couple of steps back, and he grabbed her hand again.

“You can’t leave like this,” he said. “Come upstairs and let me make sure you’re okay. Let me at least explain—”

He didn’t know
how
he would explain, but he couldn’t let her go without ensuring she was all right, and he didn’t just mean her knee. He had to trust that the right words would come, that she’d understand. Then he’d give her an earful about traffic signals and crosswalks and— Bloody hell, he’d swear his heart was banging louder than a drum.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“I’m not letting you leave before I fix up your knee, so you might as well come with me. Does anything else hurt?”

Holly blew out a breath.

“Just my nonexistent pride,” she said, rolling her eyes but letting her hand relax in his.

“Should I call an ambulance?” he teased, relieved to see Holly being Holly.

She groaned. “This isn’t something we can laugh our way out of, Will.” And he nodded as she let him lead her to the traffic light, where there was a crosswalk.

“I know,” he admitted.

“As long as we’re clear on that,” she said. They waited for the walk signal. “Also, I’m so sorry. I have no right to be here, to interfere. I know if you wanted me to meet her you would have told me, and I didn’t mean to undermine that. I really didn’t.” She paused, chewing on her lip. “This morning was so weird, and I’m not used to weird. I’ve never been in a situation with a guy where things got—weird.”

He nodded. “I get it. Weird.”

“And I didn’t like it—leaving things like that.”

“No,” he said. “Neither did I.”

“I don’t usually chase men across the city.”

He smiled at this. “But you chased me.” Maybe she was going to fight for them. He had no clue how it would work, only that he was finally admitting to himself that he wanted to try.

“It felt like the right thing to do—in a crazy sort of way. I just didn’t like leaving things so—”