Page 39 of Surrender
I pull up to his gate just as the sun begins to set. It’s so much brighter in the country than it is in Manchester. Maybe after Cal’s mother passes on, I’ll feel more freedom in where I live and I can move out to a place like this. Mind you, a much cheaper version.
I press the button on the security panel, and my heart jumps when a woman’s voice peals through the line. “Hello? Who is it?”
The flirty words I had prepared for Gareth get stuck in my throat, clearly unsuitable for whomever is on the other end of the line. In all the times I’ve been out here, a woman has never answered Gareth’s intercom. It’s always been him. Every freaking time. Whomever this is must be very familiar with Gareth if she’s answering his line.
Is this why he kicked me out of his house last night? Was someone due to come home? A girlfriend? Freya said he’s never seen with women, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have some secret girlfriend he hides from the public eye.
I look down the lane that leads to exactly where I want to be. The place where I imagined stripping naked and losing myself for an hour or more. Clearly, someone has already beat me there.
“Hello, is anyone there?” The woman’s voice chimes into my car once more and my hands tense on the steering wheel.
“Yes, I’m here,” I reply as anger replaces shock. I lean out my window and shout into the speaker, “And I have a message for Gareth Harris. You tell him that I’m not taking a number and that he should find someone else to mess with!”
“What?” the lady asks, but I don’t hear what else she says. I slam my foot on the gas pedal to reverse and a loud thump startles me from behind.
My hands tighten as I press my forehead against the wheel with a groan. I think I know what I hit, and I dare to say it didn’t survive the collision.
I slide out of my car and wobble on the gravel in my heels to see what I’ve pummelled. A stupid stone bird bath that was once a quaint, ornate, little thing now rests in a heap of eight pieces on the side of the road.
“Son of a bitch!” I exclaim and move to look at the damage to my car. A lovely bird bath-sized dent is imprinted on the corner of the bumper. “Freaking hell!” I cry and kick some rocks because this is just my luck. Why wouldn’t I damage my car in a blind jealous rage over a man I’ve barely started a relationship with yet? This makes perfect sense.
Gravel crunches from a distance. My gaze swerves down the driveway in response to find Gareth jogging right toward me. My traitorous eyes do a double take. His pecs are ridiculously bouncing under his T-shirt with each gallop he takes. He has a lot of nerve.
“Christ, Sloan, are you okay?” Gareth’s face is full of worry as he presses some numbers into the keypad on his gate. As soon as it’s open enough, he slips through and runs across the road to where I’m standing.
“I’m fine,” I reply in a warning tone and move past him toward my car door. “I’ll pay to replace your bird bath, but you should think about putting it somewhere besides directly behind your driveway. That’s unsafe.”
“It’s not my bird bath,” he argues. “It was here when I bought the place.”
“You still should have thought to put it somewhere that makes more sense!” I snap, opening my door and wrapping my fingers around the frame where the window is open. “I mean, what kind of birds are going to bathe themselves next to a road?”
“It’s a private drive,” Gareth barks, crossing his arms over his chest. “It only leads to mine and Hobo’s driveways.”
“Well, you clearly have guests!” I flick my hands toward the house where his lady is probably gawking out the window at us as we speak.
“Most people drive forward out of my driveway. You know… because they actually enter my property.” He hits me with a fixed narrow stare that I don’t altogether appreciate.
“Oh, believe me, I know! I had a nice chat with your current houseguest. She sounds oh-so lovely on your little speaker. She probably has a future in telephone porn if she wants one.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, his body tense like he’s on the verge of springing at me.
I slam my door shut, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning toward him. “The woman who answered when I called just now. Please, don’t let me delay you from servicing her.”
“Servicing her?” His forced laugh causes a thick vein to pop out on his neck. “You think someone I’m fucking would be answering my security gate?”
“I don’t know your life!” I turn to reopen my door, but in one swift move, Gareth storms up behind me, grasps my arm, twirls me to face him, and slams my door closed.
“Running away again, Sloan?” he seethes, pressing in so close to me, I have to arch my back to keep my face from touching his. “This is exactly why I told you to leave last night. You don’t have the strength to be level-headed with this arrangement. Things get a little uncomfortable and you run away like you did a year ago.”
“I’m not running!” I exclaim, shoving against his chest. “Do you think I drove out to Astbury to admire the English countryside?”
“Then why are you leaving?” he asks, his nostrils flared as he hunches down an inch so we’re nose-to-nose.
“Because, casual or not, I don’t want to be one of many!” I nearly howl, so I clench my teeth together to maintain some control. I’m completely overreacting, but I can’t help it. All I can think about is Cal and his Lady Godiva, and it’s making me regret putting myself out there again. “This is the worst kind of déjà fucking vu for me, and I’m not signing up for it again.”
“Sloan”—he grabs my arms so I stop struggling to get my door open—“the voice you heard was not someone I’m sleeping with. It was my house manager, Dorinda. She’s here until a security guard arrives to check my cameras because there was a break-in at Hobo’s house this morning.”
“Oh my God.” My breath catches in my throat as my hand reaches up to cover my mouth. “Are him and Brandi okay?”
