Page 49 of Cinderella and the Outback Billionaire

Silently, he stood aside so she could enter. If he was truly going to go through with cutting her out of his life, better he didn’t do it at the door with an audience potentially lurking nearby.

She headed for his kitchen, slinging her backpack on a stool before turning to face him, arms crossed in front of her and her feet planted wide as she surveyed him from head to toe and back again. ‘You don’t look like you’re at death’s door.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Good to know. You haven’t been taking my calls. Not even my business ones.’

He hadn’t been taking anyone’s calls.

‘Wallowing in a pit of self-pity and despair, Bridie called it.’ She walked around him in a slow circle, as if studying a sculpture, and it was all he could do to stay still and relaxed. ‘You can understand my concern, although I’d like to point out that your arse is still very fine, as is the rest of your appearance. Not that I’m shallow and attracted to you solely because of appearance, but I’ve seen you looking worse.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘What do you want me to say?’ he snapped. ‘That my eyesight’s shot?’

‘Yes.’ Her calmness was not rubbing off on him. ‘Let’s start there.’

Hot temper flashed in his eyes, and good. She was angry too, and if he couldn’t see her well enough to see the signs, she’d simply have to provide him with verbal cues. ‘You said you trusted me, and I believed you. You called me resourceful and resilient and worthy, and I believed that too. I needed a hand, and you gave it, unconditionally. We’re friends and more.’

So much more and in such a short time. Maybe that was part of the problem.

She took a step closer. ‘Why can’t you trust me to be there for you?’

He took a careful step back. ‘I don’t want to argue with you.’

‘I’m not arguing with you.’ Even if she did sound fried. ‘I’m arguing for you. For us, and a future we might share.’

And he couldn’t let her win. ‘I don’t want to saddle anyone with having to stick by someone with my limitations. You’re just starting out. Every good thing in this life is out there waiting for you.’

‘But not you.’

‘You’ll be fine without me. Better than fine.’

‘And here I thought I was going to be the reluctant one in this relationship,’ she said. ‘Never quite believing I was good enough. I’ve got no money. No connections. No unshakeable belief that I’m smarter or wiser or more talented than most other people. And yet somehow you made me believe that I can pull my weight and be valued and loved and wanted because I’m me. Ari. Why can’t you be just you, battered and not seeing too well around the edges but whole—and lovable too?’

She was battering away at his defences as if they were matchsticks. He had to push her away before he crumbled in a pile at her feet, a pitiful, broken shell of a man who couldn’t let a good woman go. ‘You have a stepfather and stepbrother who drove you from your home. A father you won’t go near,’ he snarled. ‘You can’t even fight your own demons. What chance would you have against mine?’

‘Is that the argument you’re going with? You’re pushing me away because I’m not used to fighting for every scrap of love I’ve ever been gifted?’ She stepped forward and poked a pointy finger into his chest. ‘I can and will fight my own demons. You’ll see. And then I’ll be back for you. Maybe you can slay a couple of your own demons while I’m away.’

She headed for the door.

‘You forgot your backpack.’ But she didn’t turn around. ‘I built you a garden at site six. A sensory garden full of texture and shadows and water and sounds. It’s a haven for relaxation and renewal, a place of majesty and tranquillity and I built it with all the love I have in my heart for you. The plans are in the backpack. Drawings, notebooks, pressed plants, jars of different coloured dirt that I used. Pictures of all the birds I’ve seen in the garden so far. Waterway plans and drainage. Pumps and pipes and everything else. So what if you can’t see everything I’ve written? You’re the one with endless resources. If you don’t want to go and experience it for yourself, try getting someone to explain it to you.’

His doors didn’t slam. They drew quietly closed with a good-mannered huff.

He leaned his back against it and pressed the heels of his hand against the sudden sting in his eyes.

She argued passionately, and for him, and he loved her for that. He loved her full stop. He’d figured that out at some point between the slaying of demons and the building of a tranquil garden just for him. But how could he keep her, and keep her happy, if he couldn’t even see his own way forward?

He had to let her go. His shortcomings were not her responsibility.

She’d see that he was right.

Eventually.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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