Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(16)

“You had your chance at that. You blew it.”

“Don’t you believe in second chances?”

He sounded sincere, and I let him leave his hand on my leg, but something was bothering me. “Why now? Why, all of a sudden, do you want to do this with me?”

“Because you’re great at what you do. I know what you’ve accomplished here in terms of the marketing campaigns for Cloverleigh, from the wines to the inn to the wedding business. You’re ambitious and creative and sharp, and I know you’re a hard worker. And to be fair, it’s not really all of a sudden. I’d have reached out sooner, but it felt more prudent to let some time go by, given the … circumstances.”

The flattery wasn’t lost on me, but I was silent for the moment, trying to do what Ken said and let things sink in before giving my answer. While I was ruminating, Oliver went on.

“I know I handled things badly in Chicago,” he said quietly. He took his hand off my leg and laced his fingers between his knees. “I shouldn’t have left that way.”

“Never mind about that,” I said stiffly. “I don’t care anymore.” It was a lie.

“I have no excuse other than—”

“I don’t need to hear your excuse.” That was for sure. The last thing on earth I wanted was to hear him confirm out loud what I’d known all these years—he’d been lying to me that entire weekend. That I had never been anything but a game for him. “The whole experience taught me some good lessons about trust. And you’re right about one thing—it would be more satisfying to tell you to fuck off and make this dream happen on my own, but if I do that, it’ll take that much longer.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“It means I’ll consider it.” I sat up and put my feet on the ground so that we faced each other. “You have one week to convince me. I’ll go on whatever trip you have planned. I’ll listen to your story. I’ll give you the opportunity to sell me on this partnership and why it’s worth my time and effort.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“If you can manage to persuade me, I’m in. If not, no deal.”

“Works for me.” He held out his hand.

I hesitated, but eventually I put mine out too, and he enclosed it within his. His grasp was warm and strong, and the handshake was solid. It wasn’t all business, though—a shiver swept across the back of my neck at his touch. Damn him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You won’t be sorry.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I let go of his palm and reclined in the chair once more. He did the same, and for a few minutes, we just lay there side by side, listening to the chatter of the katydids and staring up at the sky.

“This reminds me of prom night. Remember?” he asked.

Of course I remembered. “Yes.”

“I never understood why, out of nowhere, you wanted me to kiss you.”

I smiled secretly. “Good. I hope it’s been torturing you for years.”

“Tell me what you were thinking.”

In truth, I’d wanted him to kiss me because he’d looked so handsome and broody lying there next to me. And I’d had a great time with him that night. But he didn’t deserve that answer. “I was bored. You looked lonely.”

“Bored? Lonely?”

He sounded so outraged, I laughed. “I suppose there was a fair amount of curiosity involved. You were always bragging about how girls were all over you. I guess I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.”

“I see. And did that kiss satisfy your curiosity as to why I was such a stud?”

“Yes, actually.” I looked at him again. “I thought you were a very good kisser.”

“And yet you walked away.”

I felt proud of my teenage self. “Yes. Because I didn’t want it to go any further and I didn’t trust you not to pressure me.”

“Fuck off, I never would have pressured you like that.”

“Maybe not,” I allowed. “But I wasn’t taking any chances.”

“Well, you must have enjoyed it, since it wasn’t long afterward you came to my dorm room looking for more.” He sounded smug.

“That wasn’t really about you. It was about me.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Liar. You wanted me. You admitted it years later.” He looked over at me. “Remember? At Hughie’s graduation party?”

“Yes. I remember that night. Thank you for reminding me of yet another occasion on which you showed me why you can’t be trusted.” I swung my feet to the ground. “And with that, I bid you goodnight.”

“Chloe, come on. I was just—”

“Goodnight, Oliver.” Before he could say another word, I stood up and headed for the sliding door to the kitchen.

From there I fumbled through the darkened house, found my purse and keys on a table in the front hall, and slipped out the front door.

On the twenty-minute drive home, I felt so hot I had to roll down the window and let the cool wind blow through my hair.

For a minute, I let my mind wander back. To prom night. To his dorm room. To Hughie’s graduation party. To that unbelievable weekend we’d spent together holed up in a Chicago hotel room seven years ago.