PLAYING DIRTY WITH THE HOT CEO

chapter 12

It’s not long before we arrive back at the village, and I park the car.

“Let’s call in at the supermarket,” she says, “and choose some things for the picnic later.”

“Okay.”

It turns out to be less a supermarket and more a local store, selling a limited selection of groceries. We opt for soft rolls, baked ham, a triangle of brie, strawberries, red seedless grapes, and, under Heidi’s insistence, a large bar of Dairy Milk chocolate. Finally, we choose a bottle of wine—a decent champagne, under my insistence this time.

“I’ll get this,” I tell her, handing over my credit card at the till.

“Titus!”

“You’ve just told me you exist on your teacher’s wages, and you’re putting me up for free. It’s the least I can do.”

She grudgingly accepts that, and I take the bags from her and carry them up the hill to her house.

“I’m enjoying having you staying with me,” she says as she puts her key in the lock.

“Like having a slave?”

She goes inside, casting a playful glance over her shoulder. “Does that include chaining you to my bed when you’re not washing the dishes?”

“Your wish is my command, ma’am.”

She laughs and comes up to take the bags from me. I hang onto them, though, and she gives me a wry look before I finally release them.

“Go and have a snooze,” she says. “So you’re all fresh for tonight.”

“You want me to get fresh with you?”

“Now who’s got a one-track mind?”

I chuckle and head upstairs. I keep telling myself I mustn’t flirt with her, but it’s impossible not to.

I go into my room, take off my Converses, and flop back onto the bed. My skin feels sun-kissed and wind-burned, and I’m pleasantly tired. I close my eyes, and in my mind I can see the beauty of the moors, all that vast landscape, and the thousands of years of human occupation spread out before me.

Then Heidi appears in my memory, her hair lifting in the breeze, her blue eyes looking up into mine. Her face lingers there, as sleep slowly descends upon me.

*

We head down to the park around six, and I’m surprised to find it packed with people, drawn out by the beautiful summer weather. It’s roughly square-shaped, with a children’s playground in the middle, and a river that runs down the right-hand side. Numerous trees—English oaks, beeches, chestnuts, and birches provide plenty of respite from the hot sun.

Near to the stage that’s been set up, we find a spot partly in the shade of a large English oak, spread out our blanket, and toss the cushions we brought onto it. I put the chilly bin—or cool box, as Heidi now calls it—between us, and we start unpacking the picnic. We’ve just begun eating the ham rolls when a man steps out onto the stage to welcome us to the park. He introduces us to the theater company, and then the play begins.

I stretch out on my side, head propped on a hand, next to Heidi, who’s sitting crossed-legged, and let myself be carried away by the atmosphere and the wonderful playwright’s words. It feels slightly surreal to be lying there in the evening sun on the other side of the world, eating strawberries and drinking champagne, under this old oak tree that has no doubt seen many such couples lying beneath its lobed leaves.

I’ve never felt this conscious of history before. There’s probably not an inch of land in England that hasn’t been walked on. I’ve not thought about it much, but I feel incredibly conscious of the people who’ve lived here—in the Neolithic, Bronze Age, Iron Age, Roman, Saxon, and Medieval periods. So many men and women, who’ve lived, loved, died, and been buried in this ancient land. I can almost hear them: talking, laughing, arguing, kissing, making love, having children, growing old, and dying, ghostlike around us.

“You okay?” Heidi whispers, and I look up to see her watching me, her blue eyes concerned. “You look sad.”

“Not sad. Thoughtful. Just thinking about history,” I murmur. “It feels very… I don’t know… pagan here, under the oak tree.”

“I know what you mean. I’ll take you to a village tomorrow that has a really odd blend of past and present.” She smiles.

I smile back, and I have to fight against an instinct to lift a hand, slide it to the back of her neck, and bring her down to kiss her. The sun is setting behind her, and she’s lit by a halo of golden light. Her face is in shadow, but I can still see the curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the rose-petal color of her lips.

She leans forward then, and my heart thuds as I wait for her to kiss me, aching for it to complete this mystical, magical evening. She pauses, her face about six inches from mine, looking into my eyes, and my pulse races. At the last minute, though, she reaches down to pick up a strawberry from the bowl, and returns to her sitting position, biting into the fruit as she returns her gaze to the actors on the stage.

I stifle a sigh. She is, of course, right not to go through with the kiss. We promised each other we wouldn’t get involved. So why do I feel so disappointed?

We finish the picnic and the bottle of champagne by the time the play finishes, and after we’ve clapped all the actors, we throw away our rubbish then begin to make our way back up through the village with the empty bowls packed into the cool box, which I sling over my shoulder.

It’s growing dark now, and the streetlamps have all come on, casting yellow pools of light on the pavement. Moths flutter around them, and the several pubs we pass spill more buttery light, while music spirals up into the night sky.

“I really enjoyed that,” I say to break the silence as we near the house, as she’s been quiet since we left the park. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

“You’re welcome. It was a lovely evening.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. A bit… wistful, I suppose. It’s been such fun, and I wish…” Her voice trails off, and she stops walking.

I look at her, see her staring ahead, eyes wide, and follow her gaze. A man is sitting on her doorstep, his back against her front door. He looks in our direction, spots us, and gets to his feet. I can immediately tell from the way he struggles to keep his balance that he’s drunk.

“Jason?” I ask her, and she nods.

“What do you want to do?”

Twin spots of red have appeared on her cheeks. “That f*****g arsehole. He won’t leave me alone.” She marches forward.

I jog to catch up with her, and we both walk up to the guy leaning against the wall.

He’s shorter than me, maybe around five ten, five eleven, with short brown hair, fairly good looking, although his eyes are slightly too close together.

“Heidi,” he says.

“What the f**k are you doing here?” she demands.

He ignores her question and looks at me. “Who’s this?”

“None of your f*****g business,” she says. “I told you, if you didn’t keep away from me, I’d call the police.” She pulls out her phone and turns it on.

Jason lunges for it, and it’s the perfect opportunity I need to put an arm against his throat and thrust him back against the wall. He tries to push me away, but I’m big enough to keep him there, and after a moment he stops struggling and glares at me.

“I wonder what your school will think of a young woman reporting you to the police for harassment,” I say.

Fear lights his eyes at that. He looks at her and says, “Don’t do it.”

She turns the phone to show him that she’s dialed 9-9. “One more digit,” she states. I don’t know if he can see it, but she’s shaking. “I’ll do it, Jason, if you don’t leave me alone.”

He looks back at me. “Are you two dating?”

“Yeah,” I snap, furious that he’s upset her. I bang him against the wall, and he knocks his head and groans. “She’s mine now. So stay the f**k away from her, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

He holds up his hands. I step back, wanting with every cell in my body to hit him in the face. He gives her one last look. Then he turns and heads back down the road to the village.

Heidi fumbles at her door with her keys, but her hands are shaking too much, so in the end I take them from her, insert the key, and open the door. We go inside, and I close the door behind us and slide the deadbolt across.

She goes out into the kitchen and places the cool box on the table, then goes over to the window and stares out at the garden. I walk slowly up behind her and pause a few inches away.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

She shakes her head.

“Heidi…”

She turns, and I see briefly that her cheeks are wet before she buries her face in my T-shirt.

“Aw… come here…” I put my arms around her. Hers are folded defensively against her chest, and she feels like a baby bird, fragile and tiny.

“Why won’t he leave me alone?” she whispers between sobs.

“Because he loved you and then he lost you. He’s a fool.” I kiss the top of her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh God, don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot.”

She heaves a shivery sigh. “All breakups are hard, but that was so awful. I should have cut all contact with him from the beginning, but I missed him.”

It occurs to me then that maybe she isn’t as over him as I thought. Perhaps once she’s taught him a lesson, she might want to get back with him.

“I’m sorry I said we were dating,” I tell her. “I thought it might stop him bothering you, but I should have asked you if you minded first.”

“No, it’s good,” she says fiercely. “I hate him. I’m glad you were here. I hope he never comes back.”

I’m not surprised by her vitriol, but it does make me suspect she wasn’t honest with me before. I move back a little and lift her chin so she’s looking up at me. The moonlight that comes through the window lies across her face in a sheet of silver.

“He was my first,” she says.

My eyebrows rise. “Seriously?” Jesus. She was a virgin until she was twenty-three?

She nods. “While I was growing up, Dad was really strict with us about seeing boys. My sisters didn’t care, and just did what they wanted.” She scowls. “I hate how I sound so weak. But I was too terrified of him to rebel. At uni, everyone else was sleeping around, but I was too shy, so I just threw myself into my studies. It was only when I came here and met Jason…” She swallows. “I was relieved to get it over with. But I really picked the wrong guy for that.” Her eyes shine.

“Tell me the truth,” I say firmly. “Did he ever r**e you?”

“No. But he used to like holding me down, and he was… rough sometimes.” Tears spill out of her eyes.

Cold slices through me, as if the moonlight is a silver blade. “Did you ever say no?”

She shakes her head and looks down. f*****g hell, she’s ashamed because she didn’t ask him not to be brutal with her. Oh my God, the things men do to women.

“I’ll be all right,” she says. “I just need a few minutes.” She moves away from me, goes through the back door out into the garden, and closes it behind her.

I wonder whether to follow her. My instinct is to comfort her, but equally I don’t want to intrude if she wants some time alone.

I want to kill Jason. To be the girl’s first and treat her like that. No—to be with any woman at any point in her s****l journey and treat her like that. f*****g bastard.

Gritting my teeth, I decide to give her five minutes, and I go upstairs and visit the bathroom. As I come out, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I pull it out I see it’s a FaceTime call from Huxley.

I go into my room, close the door, turn the light on, and answer it.

“Morning,” I say, sitting on the bed as his face pops up on the screen.

“Evening,” he replies, and grins. “How are you doing?”

“Yeah, okay. Just got back from watching Shakespeare in the Park with Heidi.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh, you’ve been to see her?”

“I’m still here, I’m staying with her. She’s had a bit of trouble with her ex, so I thought I’d hang around and make sure she’s okay.”

His smile fades, and his brow darkens. “He’s still harassing her?”

“I think she might have seen the last of him now. She threatened to call the police, and I roughed him up a bit.”

He nods. “Good. Thanks.”

I blow out a breath. “Hux, she wouldn’t say, but I think he might have assaulted her.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“She’s only just intimated. I wish I’d known. I’d have broken both his legs.”

“God, I wish she’d come home. I hate that she’s all the way over there.”

I sigh. “She seems happy, apart from this. She’s doing well at the school, and her students love her. She adores her cottage, although it is the size of a postage stamp. I know your grandparents aren’t far away, and she talks about meeting up with friends. I think if she can put this ghost to rest, she’s going to be okay.”“Well,” he says, “she’ll be home soon. We’ll have to do our best to convince her to stay.”

Half of me agrees with him. The thought of having Heidi living in Auckland fills me with delight, and I know already that I’d ask her out like a shot.

But equally, I understand why she loves it here. “I don’t know,” I say. “She’s flourishing now she’s her own woman.”

“You mean now she’s away from Dad?”

“I didn’t want to say that.”

“It’s all right. I know what he was like with her.”

“She said it’s why she cut her hair—the day she arrived, apparently.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I thought that might be the case. Ah, maybe it is better she’s there. I know it sounds old fashioned, but I hope she meets a nice guy who can look after her, you know? Something more trustworthy than her f*****g ex.”

I nod.

“So you’re staying with her?” Huxley asks. “In her cottage?”

“Er, yeah.” He looks surprised, so I add, “I’m in the spare room.”

He gives me an amused look. “Relax, Titus. You’re one of the good guys. I know I can trust you.” He picks up a takeaway coffee cup and has a drink, still watching me. I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or if he’s serious.

I clear my throat. “How’s life in New Zealand?”

“Yeah, good. Busy.”

“The wedding all arranged?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Huxley and Elizabeth wanted to get married before the baby comes, so they’re having a quiet wedding in the South Island. Originally they thought of Queenstown, but in the end they decided to fly their friends and family down to Lake Tekapo, not far from Aoraki Mount Cook, for a couple of nights in an exclusive retreat high up in the mountains, in the world’s largest Gold Dark Sky Reserve. The stargazing there is going to be amazing.

“Looking forward to be Mr. Tremblay?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Yeah.”

“How’s Elizabeth feeling?”

“Yeah, good.”

“How many weeks is she now?”

“Seventeen. Joanna’s got this chart, and every time I see her she tells me how big the baby is. Apparently it’s now the size of a pomegranate.”

Joanna is his nine-year-old daughter by Brandy, a girl he had a one-night stand with at university. She seems thrilled that he’s marrying Elizabeth and having a baby, which is great.

We talk for another few minutes about business, and then, conscious that Heidi is still outside on her own, I say I have to go.

“Look after her,” Huxley says.

“Will do.” I nod, end the call, slide my phone into my back pocket, and head downstairs.I go out into the garden, half expecting to see her in the greenhouse, but she’s sitting in one of the plastic chairs, looking up at the sky.

“Hey,” I say. “I was just talking to Huxley.”

She looks up at me. “You told him what happened?”

“I did mention it, I hope that was okay. He’s worried about you.”

“He wants me to go back to New Zealand.”

“Yeah. I said you were doing fine, though, and he admitted it’s probably better that you’re here.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“He’s aware how you feel about your father. I think he knows how difficult you’ve had it.”

She swallows hard and looks away.

I’m so tempted to take her into my arms again. To hold her tightly, and to kiss her tears away. I want to do it more than anything.

But I hesitate, Huxley’s words ringing in my ears,You’re one of the good guys. I know I can trust you.

Fuck it. I can’t make a move on her. Huxley and I are good friends, and I don’t want to jeopardize that by seducing his sister, especially when she’s been through so much.