Page 18 of Wallflower
Once we’ve finished on the ground floor—kitchen and dining, two living rooms, home office, two guest baths—then the basement—complete gym and rec room—we make a circuit of the wrap-around porch and a brief visit to the wet-edge Olympic-length pool before Violet follows me upstairs.
“My bedroom’s that way.” I gesture down a long hall to the closed double doors at the end. It’s more of a suite than a bedroom, but she’ll never see it, so the details don’t matter. “And you can stay…”
I trail off as I consider the four closed doors at the other end of the hall. Each bedroom has something going for it, but there’s one that’s a standout, and I go straight to it.
I open the last door on the left and step into the largest of the four bedrooms. They each have an attached bathroom so any would give Violet privacy, but this one has a king-size four poster bed, a deep desk set in front of tall glass windows looking over the vineyard to the west, and a jaw-dropping oversized walk-in closet.
I move aside to let her in and watch for her reaction as anticipation tightens the muscles across my chest.
Violet’s only two steps into the room before her hands press against her cheeks. “Oh, my…”
Her steps falter before speeding up again, but instead of going to the gigantic closet like I expected, Violet’s only got eyes for the desk. Her fingers dance over the smooth wood finish as she lowers herself into the deep chair, and her palms caress the glossy surface as she devours the incredible view.
A moment ticks by, then another, and she still hasn’t said anything. It’s almost like she’s forgotten I’m here but I don’t even care. I’m enjoying this. I get off on being the best and having the best and showing it off, but right now that’s not it. Or not all of it. I’m too surprised by the way Violet sat herself behind that desk like it belongs to her and too amused at the way she apparently couldn’t care less about me. It’s a little like glimpsing the person Violet might be when she’s alone, and I like that she feels safe enough to be that person here, even if only for a moment.
And where the hell did that come from?
I scowl at nothing and clear my throat. “I’ll get your bags,” I say with one foot already through the door.
I jog down the stairs and get to the front door, then loop the handles of Violet’s tote around one wrist before picking up asuitcase in each hand. I turn to go back the way I came, but Violet’s hurrying to intercept me.
I pause at the urgent worry on her face. “What the—”
Violet’s eyes widen as she slides in her socks over the smooth hardwood floor, crashes against my chest with a high-pitched whoop, then saves herself from losing her footing by latching onto my shirt. I drop the bags so I can steady her, wrapping my hands around her bare upper arms and pulling her close.
And I don’t let go.
It’s the way she smells—floral and so subtle I needed to be this close to notice it. Her skin is soft and warm, and I’m distracted by the way her deep brown irises are dusted with flecks of gold and how her nose is sprayed with barely there freckles. I follow the tip of her tongue as it traces the shape of her mouth, full and pink and glistening.
“Chord?” she murmurs.
“Mm?”
She glances down at my fingers.
Shit.
I drop her arms and step back, flexing my fingers to erase the memory of her warmth, before spinning around and picking up her suitcase again. Violet’s hand darts toward her tote and away, like she’s not sure she should try her luck getting it away from me, so I pick it up and hand it over, and I don’t look back as I climb the stairs. I’m not capable of handling that much connection, so I do what I do best. I reach for the ice.
I step inside Violet’s bedroom door and deposit her luggage on the floor. She’s right there when I turn to go and we’re close—too close—but one look at the frost in my gaze and she takes a quick step back before glancing at her notebook.
“I’ll go out for groceries now,” she says quietly. “Then I’ll start making inquiries about an apartment in the city. Coach Campbell asked me to call and set up those training sessionswith the team, and after that I’ll see about having your personal items shipped from Calgary.”
The reminder about Coach’s training plans for the summer sends my mood further south, and I’m sure it shows because Violet licks her lips and lifts her chin, but blinks too much for me to believe she’s feeling confident. I feel like a prick for using my old tricks to push her away, but it’s better this way, I remind myself. Easier. Safer.
“Fine,” I tell her. “If you need me, I’ll be in my gym.”
I’m gone before she has a chance to respond.
nine
Violet
DAY 4 AT SILVER LEAF... ONLY 82 TO GO
I pull the truckinto the garage, cut the motor, and sink into the seat with relief. The silence seems loud after the deafening thrum of the engine, and I breathe a little easier knowing I’ve made yet another trip to the grocery store and returned this monster without a ding. I cast a wistful look toward my silver hatchback, then grimace at the sleek red sports car on the other side of it. I’m still trying to decide if Chord wants me to drive this thing because it’s safer, like he said, or because he’s embarrassed to have his assistant drive around in a dusty old clunker.
Looping my satchel across my chest, I climb down and go around to the trunk to collect the groceries. There’s more of them today than I bought the morning I arrived. In the four days since then, the Fury’s nutritionist provided a comprehensive list of the things Chord needs to keep on hand. With the amount of food I bought today, I shouldn’t need to go out again for at leasta week. I hope. The less I have to drive this thing, the happier I’ll be.
