Close to You (18 page)

Eighteen

T
WO DAYS AND TWO LOCATIONS
later, Allie still felt nauseous over the spiteful, vicious words she had spewed at Jackson. He'd been avoiding her ever since. Switching places at tables to not sit near her, never speaking to her, even avoiding eye contact—not that she could blame him.

“ . . . because of poor taste in
girlfriends.”
The words still echoed in her head, as fresh as the horrid moment when she'd heard them hit the air and realized what she'd said. They would've been bad enough if she were Jane Doe average.

But no, they'd come from her, the girl who'd been so blinded by a guy, she hadn't for a second entertained the notion he was marrying her for her money and ability to get him a New Zealand visa—all to escape a very big hole he'd dug himself in regard to some unforgiving people in the UK.

She buried her head in her hands. The cynical part of her thought she should be glad she'd irreparably shattered whatever it was between the two of them. Her cruel words had
certainly uncomplicated something that had been quickly getting out of control. If it hadn't been for that helicopter—by sheer chance, it turned out—finding them just in time, she knew what would've happened next, and she hated herself for it.

It would've been tempting to leave the situation unresolved—they only had five days before the tour ended. Except for the quiet voice inside telling her every second she would never forgive herself if she didn't try and mend this. If she didn't tell him the truth—even when it meant there could be no getting back to the possibilities that had remained between them.

Allie had been lingering by the elevator doors for an hour, waiting for him to come downstairs. Finally, the doors dinged open and Jackson walked out. Bolting out of her chair, she practically launched herself across the lobby to him before she could change her mind.

“Jackson.”

Cold blue eyes didn't even meet hers. “Dr. Shire.”

“Please, can we talk?”

“I'd prefer not to.” He started walking toward the dining room with long strides, leaving her, with her shorter legs, to scuttle after him like a crab.

“Please.” The one word was so obviously drowning in desperation he actually stopped and looked at her for the first time in two days, rather than above her, around her, or through her. “Two minutes.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

They took a couple of chairs in the otherwise empty bar area. Jackson pulled out his phone and tapped across the screen.
He flipped it to face her, and she saw he'd set the timer for exactly two minutes. He placed it on the table in between them, hit
START
,
and leaned back in his chair.

The seconds were ticking and she was wasting them. She cleared her throat, trying to get something—anything—out. “I'm sorry. What I said was cruel and unfair. I've spent the last two days trying to work out what made me say something so horrible and I don't know. And I'm ashamed I am responsible for saying something so ugly.” Her words tumbled out over each other. How much time had she burned already? Thirty seconds? Less? More? The screen had gone blank.

“I, of all people, have no right to be casting aspersions on anyone's relationship. Especially when I pretty much hold the gold card when it comes to being used. And so I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying such hateful things. Sorry I ruined our . . . friendship. You told me the truth and I used it against you. I know it won't change anything, but I need you to know I get it.” She sucked in a deep breath. Time to tell him about Derek. He deserved at least that. “I w—”

The buzzer cut her off before she could finish. Not that she'd known exactly how the ugly truth was going to come out. She'd had a well-rehearsed speech and the entire thing had flown from her brain faster than an M16 fighter jet after her first
“I'm sorry.”

Jackson was already standing. Reaching down, he silenced his phone and shoved it back in the pocket of his jeans.

“Wait. You don't have anything to say? Nothing?” She sounded needy. How mortifying. But she wasn't prepared for this. She thought she'd prepared herself for every possible reaction, but not for
nothing
.

He looked down at her, face as blank as a hotel sheet, and shook his head. “Not to you.”

And he turned and walked away.

* * *

A
llie looked like he'd struck her. Jackson forced down the temptation to second-guess himself as he strode into the dining room. Setting the timer on her had been a bit harsh, but if he hadn't, he would've gotten sucked right back into those green eyes. Don't look back. If he had to look back and see her face all crumpled and hurting, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his distance.

He needed to walk away more than anything. There was something about that girl that swung him way off-kilter and made him question everything about what was important in life. He couldn't afford that kind of distraction. The game plan was set; he just needed to see it through. He could convince his uncle to sign on the dotted line—for the sake of his family and all the people who had trusted him with their money.

No girl could compete with that, no matter what kind of inconvenient feelings she stirred up in him. Even when he was out-of-his-mind angry with her, he still had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms to see if she would mold into him the way he imagined she would.

Walking into the dining room, he bypassed the buffet and headed straight for the coffee. He poured himself a cup of strong black stuff from the pot and pretended not to see Elroy waving at him from across the room as he picked an empty table for two by the window.

Taking a tentative sip of the steaming brew, he tried to
convince himself he'd done the right thing. So her degree was from Cambridge—so what? So she might apply for some fancy-­pants academic job back in England—what did it matter to him? In less than a week, he'd be back in the States, laying the groundwork for his new business. He'd have more than enough to keep him occupied. Satisfied. In a matter of days, this whole ridiculous trip would be a distant memory. All going well, a mere stepping-stone to his destiny.

The more he tried to convince himself, the bigger the ­sailor's knot in his gut seemed to grow. So he turned his mind to more important things. Like the look on his parents' faces when he unyoked them from the massive burden of debt they'd been dragging around his entire life. Girls came and went, but family—now that was forever.
Right, God?

He startled at the unexpected thought. Where had that come from? Coffee sloshed over the side of his cup, scalding his fingers. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his hands, then dabbed at the stain on the white tablecloth.

What did he care what God thought? Not that he was convinced there even was one. Yet another thing that made him the black sheep of the family. Everyone else knew there was a God with the same certainty as they knew autumn was harvest time.

“I'd offer you a penny for them, but from your face, they're worth a whole lot more than that.”

Jackson jolted. How long had his uncle been sitting at the other side of the table? The old man took a sip of orange juice as he regarded him with knowing eyes.

“Anything I can help with?”

Jackson shook his head. “No. Thanks.” Then changed his
mind. He'd probably already blown whatever chance he had anyway so he might as well ask. “Actually, yes.”

“I'm all ears.”

“Why did you set Allie and me up on the boat that night?” It had been bugging him since that evening. What was the point?

Louis picked up a piece of toast. “Did you know I have a wife and three kids?”

Where had that come from? “No, sir. I didn't.”

“Ex-wife, actually. We've been divorced forty years and I still struggle to say it. Even though she got remarried back in seventy-eight.”

“I'm sorry.”

Louis leaned forward. “Here's the thing, son. Money comes and money goes. I lost almost everything in the crash of eighty-seven and spent years trying to get back on my feet. But want to know my biggest regret?”

“Sure.”

“When I was your age, I was so obsessed with building my business I let it cost me what really mattered. I have more money than I will ever need, and for what? I don't have a wife to share it with. I haven't seen any of my kids in a decade. Never met my grandchildren. I wasn't a bad husband or father. I was just an absent one. So busy making money so they could have the right stuff, it never occurred to me all they wanted was me. That was why my wife left. She told me it was too hard being in love with a ghost.”

Jackson stared at his coffee mug, unsure of what to say. When he looked back up, he found himself pierced by his uncle's intense gaze.

“I set you up that night because you'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to see what exists between you two. And it's
something that many people spend their entire lifetime trying to find. I'm an old man, with a lot of money, and not a lot to spend it on. So”—he shrugged his shoulders—“I figured, why not?” He looked at Jackson closely. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you wish I hadn't?”

Jackson couldn't find the words for a few seconds. He wouldn't trade that evening for anything. Not even given how mad he was at her now. “No. I can't.”

“Don't be like me, Jackson. Don't end up a rich old man who has built an empire and then discovered it's completely worthless without anyone to share it with. I would give anything to go back and have a do-over. I would live in a trailer if it meant Lorraine was there with me.”

Jackson mulled his uncle's sermon over for a few moments, not sure what to do with the unexpected dump of personal information. “So you're saying it doesn't matter if my parents lose the farm or if I can never pay back all the people who trusted me and I let them down?”

His uncle shook his head as he swallowed his toast. “No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying they're not the only things that matter. And, while they're important, they're definitely not what matters most. What matters most are God and family.”

Interesting. He hadn't pegged Louis as religious. For some reason, he'd assumed he shared his own skepticism in the existence of God.

“Why do you believe in God?” He wasn't even sure where the question had come from, but for some reason he really wanted to know the answer. Weird Tolkien obsession aside, his uncle was a very switched-on old guy who wasn't the type of person Jackson would think needed some kind of religious crutch to get by.

His uncle pondered for a few seconds. “For me it's not so much about why. The truth is, I always knew there was one. I just didn't want to admit it because I was afraid of what that would mean.”

Jackson rolled his uncle's words around in his head. They resonated somewhere deep down, but he didn't have time to think about it now. His uncle wasn't the one who would have to live with himself if his parents lost the farm that had been in their family for five generations. And so far God had been zero help in that department.

His parents were the most faithful people you could imagine. If anyone deserved God's favor, it was them. Instead He'd stood by, inattentive, as they battled droughts, floods, and crop disease, never able to catch a break. The few times they'd had a good harvest and been able to get their heads above water and breathe, something bad always happened to put them back under.

Jackson was the only one they had to solve this—not some uncaring invisible divinity. His shoulders sagged as his attempt at righteous anger rang hollow. For all he railed against someone who might not even exist, Jackson had had the opportunity and the money to provide his family with at least a couple of years of not having to worry about how they were going to pay their debts, but he'd blown it.

And that was all on him. He let out a breath. And Allie was right. If he hadn't made a few poor choices, he wouldn't even be here.

Which made how he'd just treated her even worse. He pushed his chair back. “Can you excuse me for a few minutes? There's something I need to do.”

Nineteen

T
HIS WAS RIDICULOUS.
A
LLIE TRIED
to stem the tears that wouldn't stop coming. Why did it even matter? Why did his snub hurt so much? In a week, they wouldn't even be in the same country anymore. There would be no reason for them to cross paths ever again.

She'd been a guide for people with terminal illnesses who had been given months to live, who were taking this trip before they became too sick to enjoy it. Young, previously healthy people with everything to live for. She hadn't cried like this over any of them. So why now? Why
him
?

She sucked in a breath, stared at the hotel's floral carpet, and tried to pull herself together.

“Is it eight-thirty we have to be back in the lobby?” Sofia's heavy accent came from behind her, cutting through Allie's melancholy.

“It is indeed.” Her attempt at perky was a bit on the shuddery side, but passable. She swiped her hands across her cheek
bones, knowing, even as she did, it was a pointless maneuver. If anything, she'd probably just smeared her mascara even further.

How embarrassing. How unprofessional. Nobody paid thousands of dollars to be confronted by their tour guide having a meltdown. Hopefully Sofia had gotten all the information she needed and wouldn't come any closer.

Light footsteps and Sofia's long slender legs appearing beside her killed that wish. “Can I tell you something”—Sofia's brow rumpled as she tried to find the words she needed—“in secret?”

“Sure.” Allie turned her body to be able to look up at Sofia without craning her neck.

Sofia lowered her voice. “Hans, he is not good with horses.”

“He's scared of horses?”

Sofia shook her blond head. “No. He like them. He just think he good rider, but bad rider. Very bad. He look like this.” And the slender woman jumped up and down and flailed from side to side. “So would be good if you could give him old horse. Slow horse.”

Allie managed a genuine smile at that. “And you?”

“Oh, I'm a great rider. I do equestrian. I ride better than Arwen with Frodo.”

“Great.”

“Are you okay?” Sofia peered at her face.

Allie summoned up a smile. “Oh, just a few allergies.”

She got an unconvinced look in return. “Thinking that you don't want to know the end because how could the end be happy?”

Allie blinked at Sofia's paraphrase from Samwise Gamgee.
“I don't think happy endings are my thing.” The honesty slipped out before she could stop it.

Sofia smiled. “Frodo and Sam thought the same, climbing Mordor. Remember, all great stories are filled with danger and darkness.” Sofia's words were from the same exchange Allie had quoted to Jackson the day in the wilderness. But even Samwise Gamgee couldn't help her now. Nothing could help her now.

Thankfully, any further probing was cut off by Hans appearing in the doorway to the dining room.

Sofia tossed her a wink as she waved at her husband. “Remember, I said nothing.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I have the perfect horses for both of you.” Allie made a mental note to swap Hans's and Jackson's horses as she turned and sagged back in her chair. She had been planning to give Jackson the oldest, slowest horse of the bunch as a joke, but that had been before her big mouth destroyed everything.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. Knowing her luck, probably Hans asking to make sure she gave him the fastest, most spirited horse of the herd.

And then Jackson appeared and took the same seat he'd grudgingly sat in only twenty minutes or so ago.

She stared at him, keeping her mouth clamped shut. She didn't trust herself to speak this time. Had no idea what might come out if she did.

Why did he have to be so attractive? All smoldery and broody and unshaven and tousled. So not her type. Soooo not her type.

And she was clearly insane, even thinking such things about
a guy who couldn't stand her. Who she couldn't stand. Oh, who was she kidding?

Allie jolted to. She'd been so lost in her internal monologue that she'd missed him saying something. And she had no idea what it was.

Get it together, Allie. Seriously.

He cleared his throat. “So, um, yeah. I'm sorry.”

She blinked. Was he
apologizing
? When he'd just sat in the same chair and shot her apology down faster than she could blink?

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I think I was more angry because I knew you were right. I've made some choices that, with the benefit of hindsight, I'm not proud of. Letting Nicole move in was one of them.”

Because she stole his IP?

He seemed to hear her unspoken question. “Not because she stole my work. That was an added bonus. It just . . .” He seemed to flounder for words. “It wasn't how I was raised. I knew it wasn't right, but in the end it was easier to give in than try to explain what was just a gut feeling. I never even told my parents we lived together because I couldn't face their disappointment. So your words hit a bit of a sore point.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't—”

He held up a hand, smiled. “I'm pretty sure you've already apologized plenty.” His brow furrowed as he studied her face. “Have you been crying?”

She swiped her hand across her cheek. “Allergies. Must remember to take some more meds before we go today.”

He studied her face for a second, then seemed to accept her answer. “I'm sorry I was such a jerk before.”

“It's okay.” She'd deserved every word of it.

He stuck out his hand. “So, friends?”

She placed her hand in it, where it was swallowed by his much larger palm. “Friends.”

Friends. The problem was, everything in her wanted much more than that.