“She finished her shift hours ago.”
“And is she still here?” She might have moved back here or to her sister’s, for all I knew.
The woman finally raised her eyes and gave me a strange look. “She finished her shift.” Her tone implied I was an idiot for not getting it the first time.
“I don’t suppose you know where she might be now,” I tried.
“No idea,” she replied, her tone conveying theand even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell youthat she didn’t say out loud.
“Thank you.”
“Who may I say was asking?” She got to her feet, surveying me from head to toe.
“Oliver Twist. Good night.” I flashed a smile at her, turned, and walked away.
I drove back to Wayford.
When I climbed out of my car, I saw there was light in the pool house.
I took the phone out of my jean pocket. A text message from fifteen minutes ago notified me that the alarm had been disabled with the code I had given January.
The small cottage-looking structure was swimming in the soft lights of the back garden and pool area. I drifted toward it like a lost wanderer. In a way, that was January for me always—a light in the dark.
But before I reached it, the door opened, and she stepped outside.
There she was, my tenant, my friend, my savior, my love, my torment, the woman I couldn’t and shouldn’t be with. So fucking beautiful.
She looked toward the house and saw me halfway between it and her.
“Oliver?”
I steeled my heart, bulwarked it, as we both took a few steps forward, closing the distance but leaving five feet between us.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be here,” she hurried to say. Her voice sounded hoarse, throaty. “I’m staying at June’s, but—”
“Why are you apologizing?” I interjected. “I asked you to stay. I never wanted you to leave. In fact, that’s what I came here to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Even exhausted, as the circles around her eyes proved, she was so beautiful in the skirt I had seen that first night, a soft-looking dark fabric hugging her curvy figure, her hair caressing her shoulders. And she was barefoot. And that, that simple detail, most of all, made it look like this was home. Her home.Shouldbe her home.Would beif it were up to me.
But I knew it would only work as a business proposition.
“I came here to offer you a job,” I finished the sentence. “I want you to manage the house. This property is wasted, and research found that there’s shortage in local venues for small corporate events, retreats, parties. Large groups, small weddings—there’s endless potential. And I can get the permits.”
The look on her face. It mirrored the one Bruce had given me earlier. As if she had seen me strike someone. As if I had struckher.
“It’s an empty house, Oliver.Yourempty house. I already moved to my sister’s and soon …” Her voice broke, and with it, my heart.
By their own accord, my legs took another step closer to her. “I want you to have it. You, your kids. It’s yours.” And because I saw words forming on her lips, I quickly added, “Yours to manage, to open a business that I put the initial investment in.”
It didn’t help, because when she spoke, the words pelted out of her mouth. “I’m not your goddamn charity! Doing me a favor by letting me stay here was one thing, but this, Oliver? This?”
I was glad she raised her voice at me; it was better than hearing it break.
“It’s not charity! It never was!” Nowmyvoice rose as I desperately tried to get through to her. She had been through enough, and I was failing at the only thing that I could give her.
I lowered my voice. “I’m offering it to you as a job. I invest in many businesses, so why not this?” I took a deep breath, reminding myself that the feelings that were meandering inside me and looking for an out would soon be squelched, as soon as I could get away from the woman who set them loose. “I know you love your job, I know your family is here, so offering you another job someplace away from here isn’t an option. But you have untapped skills, you can manage this property, even part-time, get paid for it, live here, and keep your job if that’s what you choose. This is something that I need, and you could use. So, why not do it?”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done so far, and for your kind intentions, but I don’t need this offer. My kids received scholarships.” This formality was almost worse than her voice breaking before.
She was angry at what I had done and said that day, when in this same spot next to the empty pool, I had been forced to reject her. If she had witnessed what Bruce and Blanche had seen and heard the other day in a gray meeting room, she probably would have thanked me for sparing her.
