Tangled Vines Page 5

  By some magical power, I manage not to trip and break my neck as I show him the vines wearing my heels. “Just so you can see the full visual.” I stop and pull out a few pictures. “Look at the way the sun filters through the leaves. Brides will go crazy over perks like this.”

  His fingers graze mine as he takes the pictures from my hand. His eyes lock on mine as he says, “They are quite beautiful.” A chill courses through my body as a feeling of discomfort and unease surround me.

  “Excellent, Elle.” He hands me back the photos and shoots me a look that makes me feel anything but excellent. “I think I’d like to see the cellars now.” His voice is filled with determination, and, though it hadn’t been part of my plan for the tour, I can’t deny him.

  “Certainly, Mr. Robert–” he cuts me off mid-word, waggling his finger in front of my face. “Ethan, I mean,” I correct myself and ignore the odd look in his eyes as he turns away from me.

  On the way out of the fields toward the cellar, he catches a glimpse of the cottage. Looking at it curiously, I try my best to explain my visions. “That’s where the main reception venue would be,” I say, silently kicking myself for not having the plans already drawn. I held off on those, figuring whoever would be investing in the project might want to have some input.

  “Is it opened to the public now?” he asks as he eerily scans the area surrounding us. My senses go on high alert, but before I can come up with some kind of explanation as to why we shouldn’t go in there, he’s already walking away from me.

  My heels dig in the ground as I try to catch up to him. By the time I reach him, I’m out of breath and completely off-balance. He stops abruptly, forcing me to stumble into him as I regain my footing. Bracing my arms in his strong hands, he scans my face. “So sorry for that, Mr. Robertson.”

  He rights me, letting his hands linger on my arms longer than he should. Holding the door open for me, he lets me walk in front of him. I feel his eyes on me and just as I turn around to move past him, he shuts the door behind us.

  “What are you doing?” Panic rises in my voice.

  “Nothing you haven’t already asked for.” His words set my world spinning. “You and those tight skirts. I see the way you look at me. You’re nothing but a woman trying to use sex as a means to get what she wants. Well, here I am.” He steps in close to me, turning us so my back is pressed up against the door. “I’ll give you what you want, but you have to give me what I want first.”

  “What?” I stumble back a step, disbelief and fear wash over me as I try to get away from him. “You’re crazy,” I yell, moving toward the door.

  He catches my wrist in his hand as I fumble for the doorknob behind me. “Oh, no you don’t,” he chides me. “Where are you going to go anyway?”

  “Help!” I call out, my voice cracking. “Please someone help.”

  A maniacal laugh bubbles from his twisted mouth. “No one can hear you, so keep screaming. I like it when they fight back.”

  Fear like I’ve never know lances through me. In that moment, every side-ways glance, every wayward touch, everything that I thought was odd and just off about Ethan Robertson, comes back to me full force. Screams, frenzied and panicked, fly out of my mouth. When his hand clamps over my mouth, I bite down hard enough to draw blood. It’s enough of a distraction for him to drop my hand and for me to open the door.

  He recovers quickly, grabbing my wrist as I’m just one step out the door. He pulls me back, twisting me to face him. A loud thwap sounds in the air as his hand slaps across my face. “You bitch!” he curses.

  When his hand flies up into the air for what I assume is another smack to the face, I close my eyes and brace for it.

  “Leave her the fuck alone!” I recognize the low, mean growl of Owen’s voice as I wait for the painful blow. When it doesn’t happen, I open my eyes. Ethan turns to see a seething Owen standing behind him. With my wrist still in his hand, Ethan eyes Owen. Ethan pushes me away and I stumble to the ground, the hard cobblestone walkway lacerating my knees as I fall to the ground.

  Skittering backward, I scratch my palms on the ground, getting out of their way. Owen twists Ethan’s arm behind his back and pushes him up against the door. “Tour’s over, asshole.” With a hard shove, Owen pushes his elbow into Ethan’s lower back. The scuffle has drawn the attention of a small work crew. Peter races over to Owen’s side, but not before Owen’s fist connects with Ethan’s jaw in a loud crack.

  Handing Ethan over to Peter, Owen glowers at him. “I don’t ever want to see you around here again. Got it?” Ethan nods as he rubs over the spot where he was just punched. His eyes travel over to me on the ground. “Don’t even think about looking at her.” Owen steps in front of him, blocking me from Ethan’s view. “Pete, take the bastard out front. I’m calling the cops right now.”

  Owen crouches down in front of me, sweeping my hair from my eyes. Though he’s gentle beyond all belief, even the slightest touch of his callous-roughened fingers across my slapped cheek causes me to pull back in pain. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Carefully, he tucks my hair behind my ear. Holding out his hand, he helps me up. That’s when I notice I must have twisted my ankle in the fall.

  I stumble into his arms. Pain lances up my leg and the reality of the last half-hour comes barreling over me. Tears streak down my cheeks at the thought of what could have happened if Owen hadn’t found me.

  Pulling me against his chest, Owen coos into my ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His calm, blue eyes scan my face. “Can you walk?”

  I try a step, but the pain is too much. “I can’t. It hurts.”

  Effortlessly, he scoops me up in his arms. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lean my head against his shoulder. As we make our way back into the office, Rosie sees us. Immediately frantic, she races to open the door for Owen. “What happened? Is she all right?” The questions fly out her mouth as she moves the pillows around on the small sofa in my office.

  Owen gently places me on the couch. “She’s just fine,” he calms Rosie with just a few words. “Would you mind getting us some ice?” Before the question is even fully out of his mouth, Rosie is scurrying off to the small kitchenette. Owen heads out front to explain what happened to the cops. After they ask me a few questions, they take Ethan away and it’s just the two of us left alone together.

  “Hey,” he tips my chin up when he’s sitting next to me, “are you okay?” The concern in his voice isn’t lost on me.

  Swiping away the few tears on my face, I nod and try for my brightest smile. When that falters, I laugh at myself. “I’m such a fool,” I scoff, recalling how Ethan was anything but a professional in the few encounters I had with him.

  Rosie chooses that moment to walk back in the room. She hands one ice pack over to Owen, who gently props my ankle up on a pillow and rests the ice on top of it. With motherly gentleness, she presses the other ice pack up against my reddened cheek.

  “What happened, Elle?” Rosie asks again.

  Since the kitchenette is on the other side of the building, Rosie wouldn’t have seen the cops. Shooting Owen what I hope is my just-go-with-it face, I make up a story about getting my heel caught in the cobblestone and falling on my ass. “Luckily, Owen and Peter were passing by and saved my sorry ass.” The look of relief that passes over Rosie’s face at my explanation helps me relax a little. I know it’s a crappy thing to lie to her, but I hate to worry her. And honestly, with what Owen said to Ethan, I doubt he’ll be showing his face around here again.

  Rosie looks torn between staying in the office and going back out to her desk to answer the ringing phone. Owen speaks for me as he walks Rosie to the door. “I promise I’ll take care of her. Can you just cancel whatever appointments she has for the rest of today and tomorrow, too?” Rosie nods and blows me a kiss, telling me to take it easy the rest of the afternoon.

  As I shift in my seat, I wince in pain. Owen notices it and asks if he can get me any Advil.

  The soft spot I h
ave for him grows a little and I can’t stop myself from smiling. “That would be great. There’s some in the top drawer of my desk.”

  When he comes back to the couch, he hands me two pills and glass of water. He doesn’t sit back down, though. Instead, he goes back over to the desk and pulls out the folders I was working on earlier. Moving the mouse around on the desk brings the computer back to life and I nearly spit out my water telling him to stop.

  Before I can get the words out, he’s looking at the screen, a strange and far-away look on his face. Without an ounce of the care and concern he had earlier, he looks at me, his eyebrows pulled together in an angry scowl, his lips in a firm, mean line. “Find anything interesting?” he sneers.

  “Owen, I can explain.” My attempts to explain anything are lost on his retreating back.

  “Aren’t you going to work today, honey?” Mom asks as she peeks her head into my bedroom.

  A low groan from under my pillow is the only response she’s getting, but I should know it would take more than that to keep her from prodding. The bed dips, barely, under the weight of her sitting next to me. My calves are sticking out from under the sheet; I never could sleep with them covered up. She pats them, forcing me to roll over and at least face her. “You didn’t go in yesterday either. Anything you want to talk about?”

  The words “not with you” hang on my tongue, but I think better of speaking them, knowing that she’ll just smack me upside the head for my rude remark. “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “By chance, does this two-day-I’m-not-getting-out-of-bed funk have anything to do with that pretty girl waiting for you downstairs?”

  What pretty girl? The only one I can think of is Elle, but why would she be here?

  Mom’s eyebrow lifts with accusation and playfulness. “Uh huh. That’s what I thought.” Her laughter fills the room. “Now get your ass outta this bed and get down there.”

  “All right, all right.” I sit up in bed; thoughts of facing Elle force my drowsiness away quickly.

  Grabbing a T-shirt from the desk chair in my room, I walk into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and running a hand through my hair, I walk down the stairs and find Elle sitting at my dining room table, quietly chatting with my mom. They share a small smile before realizing I’m in the room. Mom squeezes Elle’s hand before rising from her seat. She shoots me a you-better-be-nice look, her eyes stern and her lips set in a firm line.

  What the hell did I do wrong?

  “Can we go outside?” Elle asks, looking over at me. My gut churns in anger when my eyes land on the pink welt on her cheek. She holds out her small hand, extending it to the back door.

  Nodding, I stride over to it and hold it open for her. There’s a small creek running through the backyard. Lazily, we stroll down to its bank and sit on a log bench. We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes before I finally speak. “Why did you need to look me up?”

  She shoots me an odd look. “Owen, it’s 2014. Everyone googles everyone. You’re not the first person who’s been found online. Besides, it’s not like I uncovered some undercover drug smuggling operation or anything.” Her eyebrows rise in jest.

  “Nah, I keep that shit very well-hidden,” I deadpan, loving the fact that she can’t tell if I’m joking or not right away.

  “Ha, ha, ha,” she mocks with sarcasm. “But really,” she twists in her seat, angling her body toward me. “Why didn’t you tell me about all of that?”

  Shrugging, I toss a rock into the water, watching the waves spread out around it. “You saw me for what you wanted to see me as; besides, it’s not too far from the truth.”

  “You have an MBA from Boston College,” she exclaims. “That’s a far cry from a simple farmer.” I nod and we sit in silence for a moment before she continues speaking. “So when you were talking about all those documents, you weren’t just making stuff up, were you?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

  I nod in response, tossing another rock into the water. “Look, Elle. I don’t know what to tell you. I got into BC on a full academic scholarship, promised myself and my mother that I’d learn how to make enough money that we’d never have to live like this again.” Angling my head back to the house, she knows what I mean. “The man you praise as being your mentor, left before I was even born, didn’t even want me around.” My intent is not to hurt her by cutting my father down, but rather to tell her the truth about him for once. “He never even bothered to know me.”

  Her long fingers fall to my forearm. “Owen, I think you’re wrong.” After pulling a few sheets of paper out of her back pocket, she hands them over to me.

  Unfolding and reading through them opens me up to a world I ever knew existed. “What is this?” I ask, my tone quiet and unsure.

  “He did care,” Elle’s words and her eyes exude care and concern.

  “But this can’t be– no, I don’t– he didn’t…” Pausing, I find myself fumbling over my own words, completely incapable of dealing with this revelation.

  “Well, he cared enough to set you up with a college fund to pay for all four years. It’s possible that he loved you, but just didn’t know how to show it in the right way. Maybe you should talk to your mom about it. She might be able to tell you more, but that’s what we were talking about before you came downstairs. She knew you’d be mad. Are you?”

  Another blip of silence falls around us as I take stock of my emotions. Am I mad? The reality is I’ve spent my entire teenage and young adult existence being pissed off at a man I never knew. It’s not all over and done with. I don’t think I can ever fully forgive him, but knowing that he at least felt like he owed me and Mom something helps to make up for it a little.

  “No, I don’t think I am. I’ll have to get to the bottom of the whole thing, but that’s between me and my mom.” As I finish my words, I realize her hand is still on my arm, which brings me around to my line of questioning.

  “So what was going on with you and Robertson?” Just saying his name makes my blood boil. My fist clenches at my side, relaxing only when Elle places her small hand on top of it.

  “Well– uh…” she stammers, chewing on her tongue rather than spitting out an explanation.

  “Let me guess. You only have a thing for clean-cut, prim and proper businessmen. And now that you know who I really am, you’re here to make nice, right?” Cynicism and sarcasm drip from my words.

  “What?” she gasps a high-pitched defense. “No! Not at all.” Her eyes beg me to believe her, and even though I might not want to, I have to. There’s an unparalleled honesty brewing in those mocha irises that I can’t deny.

  “Then please explain it to me, because when I saw him pick you up, you two looked chummy. Then we were out dancing and we looked pretty chummy. The next thing I know, he’s slapping you around. I don’t get it, Elle.”

  “I was trying to pull one over on you,” she confesses, surprising the shit out of me. When the look on my face morphs into the I-don’t-quite-understand one, she continues, “Vincent had plans for the estate. He wanted to turn it into a wedding venue. I knew that there was bad blood between the two of you, so I went ahead and pitched the idea to Mr. Robertson and his partners in the hopes they’d invest. I wanted to do it all without you. There’s this part of me that needs to prove I’m good at what I do.” She pauses, letting out a puff of a laugh. “So much for that I guess. He was only interested in taking advantage of me.” Hanging her head in her hands, she won’t even look at me.

  “Hey,” I angle my head so that she can see me in her periphery, “listen to me.” I tip her chin so she faces me. Our eyes lock, which is just what I need for her not only to hear, but feel the next thing I have to say. “You did nothing wrong. He was an asshole for even thinking he had a right to touch you.”

  Silently, she nods, turning her head away so I can’t see the tear streaking down her cheek. “Come here.” Pulling her into my arms, I inhale the sweet, lingering smell of her shampoo. “I think we both need to just start over.
How does that sound?”

  She peeks up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “I was terrible to you and you saved me, and now you’re offering me a do-over?”

  “If you’ll take it.” I look down at her, hoping for the best. The guilt over feeling like I could seduce her out of the company rest heavily on my conscience.

  A cheery smile graces her beautiful face. Extending her hand, she shakes mine in a firm grip. “Deal,” she confirms as I chuckle at her exuberance.

  Standing from the log, I hold my hand out and help her up. “Your leg seems to be doing okay.”

  She looks down at it as if she’s seeing it for the first time. “Oh, yeah. It was better yesterday. Thanks for carrying me, though.” A heated pink blush colors her cheeks.

  Stepping closer to her, I brush her hair from her face. “It was my pleasure.” While keeping my eyes on hers, I lean in and press a sweet and hopefully sensual kiss to her round and still-heated cheek. “It would also be my pleasure to take you out to dinner tonight,” I say as we make our way back toward my house.

  She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to answer. She does that a lot and I’ve come to think it’s the most adorable thing ever. “Part of this let’s-start-over plan, please?”

  “Okay,” she whispers, barely nodding her head.

  “Good,” I say, a smile whispering across my face. “Here we are,” I announce before softly pushing her back up against the door of her car.

  “I’m still going into work today, unlike some people.” She eyes me playfully, winking at my more-than-casual attire. Noticing how her eyes linger on my T-shirt-covered chest, I know she really can’t mind all that much. Pressing my body into hers even more makes her whimper before mumbling, “What time?” Her words are breathless, her eyes wide, her lips wet.