Second Chance Girl
Page 21

“Where did he get the animals?”
“From all over. A few came from other private preserves that had overpopulation issues. Millie’s owner died and no one wanted her. That kind of thing. It’s shockingly easy to find animals like ours. Most people aren’t the least bit able to care for them, but my dad and uncle know what they’re doing.”
“As do you.”
“Thank you.”
They spent the next couple of hours talking about the animal preserve and town and what it was like to have a steady flow of wedding parties to deal with every weekend. She wasn’t sure how many margaritas she drank or how many beers he’d had and the chips and dip he’d put out didn’t do much to counteract the alcohol. It got dark outside and he flipped on a couple of lamps.
“I hope things work out for Millie,” he said. “Animals are better than people. With them you know what you’re getting. Put a lion and a gazelle in the same space and the outcome is clear. Humans are different. They play games.”
“Okay. That was an interesting transition. Want to explain it?”
“No. It’s nothing. Just some stuff happening with my brother. It’s different now, you know. Not like it was.”
“That would be one of the definitions of different.” She stared at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so unlike himself. “Is this your third beer of the day?”
He held up the bottle. “Yup. Of course there were the couple of shots of tequila I had earlier. Like I said, a few bad nights, followed by bad days have an effect on a guy.”
She angled toward him. “Mathias, what’s going on?”
“A lot of crap. People who are supposed to love you betray you. Did you know that? You should be careful.”
Huh? “Are we talking about women? Do you mean an old girlfriend?”
“What? No. I was thinking about my dad. He’s a real bastard. And my mom. She’s the saint who loves him more than anyone. Isn’t that always the way? When you see male genius, there’s probably a good woman in the background. History never remembers her. Only with him, we knew what we were getting, but with her...”
He shook his head. “He cheated on her and she forgave him. He ignores her for days at a time and she’s fine with it. Why does she do that? Why doesn’t she demand more? Only she wouldn’t. She tells us to be patient, too. To understand. And then there’s Ronan. With him, what I understand is—”
He took a couple of long swallows. “Hell, it doesn’t matter.”
She set down her margarita and slid onto the coffee table so she could sit facing him. “Now you’re starting to worry me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Only a little. Okay, a lot. Probably because I haven’t eaten today.”
She stared into his dark eyes. Funny how until now she’d always seen the front he wore so comfortably. She’d never gotten that his father had somehow damaged him. That he wasn’t as perfect or confident as he wanted everyone to believe. He was just a regular guy, trying to get through the day. Only this day had turned out to be harder than most and she had no idea why.
“How can I help?” she asked.
His expression sharpened and eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t read.
“Don’t go there,” he warned her. “Trust me, you won’t like it.”
“I should get you something to eat. You’ll feel better.”
“That won’t help at all.”
She ignored that and stood. He rose as well—to get out of her way, she thought. Or maybe to stop her. What she didn’t expect was for him to pull her hard against him and kiss her as if she were the one thing he’d been waiting for. Which was totally ridiculous and not the least bit relevant. Not when his lips were hot and demanding against hers and every part of her began to cheer.
* * *
VIOLET WAS MORE relaxed than she’d expected. Ulrich was actually a nice guy, not to mention easy on the eyes. He handed her one of the menus and they discussed the selections. At first she wasn’t sure why he seemed to be so very interested in her choices, but when their server came by to take their order, Ulrich surprised her by ordering for her.
“The lady will have the house salad,” he began.
It was all she could do not to sigh. The lady will have... She knew it was just the accent, but still, the words sounded so sexy. Plus, being taken care of like that was sweet.
“We’d like some time between the courses,” he added when he was finished.
“Of course.” The server collected the menus and left.
Ulrich picked up his Scotch. “How did you get into the button business?”
“It was that fateful summer in England,” she admitted. “Hanging out in your attic. Your grandmother showed me some old clothes and told me I could pick out something to take home as a souvenir. I couldn’t decide, then I found a box of old buttons. I asked for those. Your grandmother sent me home with three boxes. I was in heaven.”
She laughed. “I know it sounds crazy, but I really enjoyed sorting them and I started to do some research. A friend’s mom saw some of them and asked to buy a set for a dress. That was exciting. I was living in New York so I went to all the antique shops I could and looked for buttons. For a while I thought about going to design school and while I was touring one, I talked to someone who told me there was a whole button market. One thing led to another and here I am.”
“Running a button empire.”
“If only.” She grinned. “I do enjoy it. I also do some tailoring and custom work for wedding parties. I can modify a wedding gown or the bridesmaid dresses. A few months ago, I worked on a wedding set in a computer game world. It was great fun. I found these amazing buttons for the dress.”
She thought of how everything had turned out. “My friend Pallas is engaged to this guy. Nick is a gifted artist. He actually painted the wedding gown.” She shuddered. “The outcome was amazing, but it still breaks my heart to think about him taking paint to the lace.”
“Because it simply isn’t done?”
“Exactly. I’m so glad you get that.”
“I’m English. I was born to be proper.”
“I suspect you have your moments.”
His eyes locked with hers. Tension seemed to build between them—the kind of tension that stole her breath and made her want to be reckless. Her fourteen-year-old self was thrilled at the prospect.
She sighed. “You’re a dangerous man.”
“Me?”
“Oh, yeah. I know it’s the accent. I wonder if that’s because we used to be a colony. Liking an English accent is in our DNA or something. Maybe the groundwater. Anyway, you could read the phone book and it would be appealing. Does it work that way back home?”
“Sadly, there I do not have the pleasure of being exotic.”
She wanted to say he could stay here a few weeks and soak up the worship, but knew the statement would come out wrong. Or worse, sound as if she were... What? Interested in him? She was, in an I-know-you’re-leaving-tomorrow-so-it’s-safe-to-flirt-tonight kind of way.
For a second she thought about how things were going to end that evening. Could she suggest that they go back to his place? She liked him. She found him attractive and she would be delighted to take things to the next level. But her next level and sex weren’t exactly the same. She’d never had a one-night stand and guessed that she never would. She wasn’t the type. She wanted to be the one, which was the opposite of hooking up. And while that hadn’t happened yet, it was important that she keep hoping. Sleeping with a guy for one night violated that dream in a way she didn’t like.