Irresistible (Cloverleigh Farms #1)(28)

“I might,” I admitted. “I called the towing company, but they haven’t gotten back to me yet. But I hate to put you out again.”

“It’s no big deal,” she said, but there was still none of the warmth in her face that had been there yesterday. “I can take you. Come on, girls.” She gathered them up and steered them into the hallway. “Let’s go make our chocolate.”

“Frannie, wait.”

She looked back at me, her expression blank. “Yes?”

But what could I say with the kids right there within earshot?

I’m sorry, I mouthed.

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t mean about the ride home.”

“I know what you mean.” Then she disappeared, pulling the door shut behind her.

Cursing, I flopped back into my chair.

Two knocks on my door, and then it opened.

For a second, I thought maybe it would be Frannie, but it was DeSantis.

“Oh. Hey,” I said despondently.

He laughed. “Not the warmest welcome I’ve ever received.”

I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. “Sorry. I’m having a shit day. What can I do for you?”

“I was going to ask if this was an okay time to talk about H.R. needs for spring, but it can wait.”

“No, it’s fine. Sit down.”

DeSantis shook his head. “Let’s talk tomorrow. Why don’t you take off for today?”

“I can’t even do that.” Suddenly I looked up at him. “Hey, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could you drive me and the kids home? Whenever you’re ready to go is fine.”

He nodded. “Ready whenever you are.”

“And if it’s not too much trouble, could we try giving my car a jump? It’s in my garage, so we’d have to get it out.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks. Give me about twenty minutes to round everybody up.”

“I’ll be in my office.”

I picked up my phone and texted Frannie. Thanks for the offer, but no need to drive us back. DeSantis can take us.

OK.





I glared at my screen and typed another message.

I’ll come get the kids in fifteen minutes.

OK.





I sat there stewing for a moment, then set my phone aside and tried to answer some emails. But only about three minutes had gone by when I gave up on concentration, slammed my laptop shut, and marched out of my office.

What the fuck did she want from me? I’d apologized. I’d asked her if she was mad. If she had something to say, why didn’t she say it?

She was being immature and ridiculous, and I was going to tell her so.





Frannie





We’d barely gotten up to my suite when he texted me that I didn’t have to drive him home.

Good, I thought. The less I had to see him, the better.

All day long, I’d done my best to pretend nothing had happened, but it was useless. He was all I could think about. And I didn’t know how to act around him now—there was this weird tension between us that hadn’t existed before. He didn’t seem too comfortable around me, either. I’d never seen him as grouchy and mad as he’d been by the time we’d left the house.

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I couldn’t. Every moment in his presence was torture for me. All I wanted was to get to the end of this day so I could curl up in a ball on my couch and have a good ugly cry. I’d thought being with him that way would be a dream come true, but this felt like a nightmare.

When the hot chocolate was done, I ladled it into mugs for the girls, then let them squirt it with whipped cream and decorate it with sprinkles.

“This is like dessert before dinner,” said Millie, licking whipped cream off her spoon.

As soon as I got them situated at the counter, there was a knock at my door. I glanced at my phone, which told me it had been little more than five minutes since he’d texted he’d be up to get the kids in fifteen.

I went to the door and pulled it open, and there he was in the hallway, looking restless and agitated. His hair was kind of a mess, and his hands were fisted at his sides. Still, my heart went crazy at the sight of him.

“They’re not quite done yet,” I said.

“That’s fine. Can I talk to you?”

Shrugging, I opened the door so he could come in, but he shook his head.

“Out here in the hallway.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the kids. “Okay.” Making sure the door was unlocked, I went out into the hall and pulled it shut behind me. Then I leaned back against it and folded my arms. “What’s up?”

“Frannie.” He was in no mood.

“What?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m doing exactly what you told me to do—pretending nothing happened. Going back to the way things were before. You’re the one who’s angry.”

“I’m angry because …” He gestured back and forth between us. “This isn’t how it was before.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, although I knew exactly what he meant.