Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) (8 page)

Should she stay in his room tonight? She
had no money, and it seemed silly to get on her high horse now and demand
another room when she was wearing his track pants and had told him she wanted
to kiss him. She’d stay the night, and tomorrow morning, hopefully everything
would become clear.

“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll stay.”

Relief crossed his features. “All right
then. You look shattered. Why don’t you get into bed? I’ll leave the TV on
while I read, and maybe you’ll doze off after a while.”

So she visited the bathroom, then, while he
pointedly turned away to tidy Mateo’s clothes up, she slipped off the track pants,
slid into the bed, and curled up with a pillow. By the time he turned around,
her eyelids were already drooping.

He dropped to his haunches beside her and
smiled. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

“By the way, when you rang your friend
earlier, you said ‘It’s Birdie.’ Is that what you prefer to be called?”

Her parents and Hitch had always called her
Birdie, and all her friends did now. Mal had used the nickname and called her
things like Tweety Pie. She’d never really thought about it before. Suddenly,
though, it seemed childish, a symbol of the innocence and naivety she now
despised.

Aaron had recognized that her name belonged
to the goddess of spring. She liked the way it sounded on his lips.

She gave a little shake of her head. “You
can call me Bridget.”

His eyes creased at the edges. He
understood. “All right, Bridget. Sleep tight.”

He crossed to the other side of Mateo and
got into bed. The TV flickered, and he changed it to the news and lay there for
a while watching the headlines move across the bottom of the screen. Then he
picked up his iPad and started reading.

Bridget had wondered whether she would lie
there for ages reliving the morning, feeling the humiliation boiling in her
stomach, but instead she listened to Mateo’s light snoring and the sounds of
the evening traffic far in the distance, and her eyes closed.

The taxi pulled up outside Rowan and
Hitch’s apartment block. She paid the driver with the cash that Aaron had leant
her, went up to the front door, and buzzed their flat.

“It’s me,” she said when Hitch answered.
She’d rung him that morning to say she’d be around to pick up her purse and
house keys, telling him, “Talk later,” when he began to ask her questions.

“Thank God.” He buzzed her in.

She walked up the stairs slowly, her
footsteps quiet in Aaron’s socks, still shoeless. When she arrived outside
Hitch’s door, it was open, and he was leaning against the doorjamb, waiting for
her. She walked along the corridor and stopped in front of him.

He looked down at her. “You all right?”

She nodded mutely.

He sighed, stepped forward, and wrapped his
arms around her. “Oh Birdie. I’ve been so worried.”

She accepted the hug, but couldn’t stop a
flicker of irritation. Aaron’s hug had meant to console and comfort her. Hitch
was focused on himself, on his fear that something had happened to her. It was
lovely that she had people who cared about her, but he’d known she was in a
hotel and that she was safe. He needn’t have worried. She wasn’t a child.

Eventually, she pushed at his chest, and he
released her and stepped back. She walked past him into the flat and was
immediately enfolded in another pair of arms as Rowan hugged her tightly.

“Birdie! Thank God. I’m so glad you’re all
right.”

“Of course I’m all right.” She tried to
suppress her frustration—they meant well. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I needed
some time to myself, that was all.”

Rowan released her, and they both watched
her somewhat warily as she walked through to the kitchen. “Is that fresh coffee
in the pot?” she asked.

“Yes, let me pour you a cup,” Rowan said.

“I can do it myself.” She did so, conscious
of her sharp tone and aware they were exchanging a glance. “Sorry,” she said,
bringing the mug into the living room. She sat in the chair, and the two of
them sat on the sofa opposite her.

“It’s okay.” Rowan surreptitiously slid her
hand between her and her fiancé, and Hitch clasped it in his own. Bridget’s
lips curved up. She was so glad that her brother and Rowan had finally gotten
together. Hitch had always professed that he didn’t need anyone and that he was
happy on his own, but he was so much happier since he’d hooked up with Rowan.

“Nice outfit,” Hitch said.

Bridget stuck her tongue out at him. “Best
I could do under the circumstances.” She still wore Aaron’s track pants and
sweatshirt. He’d offered to run out and buy her some clothes, but she’d
refused, not wanting to be in his debt any more than she had to be.

“Where’s your dress?” Rowan asked.

“I left it behind.” She’d asked Aaron to
dispose of it for her. He’d tentatively suggested she take it and keep it just
in case, but she’d been quite adamant. She had taken the ring back, though.
She’d give it back to Mal at some point. She didn’t want to keep it.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” Rowan
said softly.

Bridget shrugged. “It’s done now. It’s all
about where I go from here. Have you heard from Mal again?”

Hitch frowned. “He told you.”

“Yes, Aaron told me. I’m not a child,
Hitch. You don’t have to hide things from me.” She saw a mutinous glow in his
eyes and anger seared through her. “I know what you all thought of Mal, and
that you think I should have dumped him years ago. You’re worried that I’m
going to go back to him. Well, I’m not. I loved him, but I’m not stupid. We’re
done, and that’s not going to change.”

“Not even if he begs you to give him
another chance?” Hitch wanted to know.

She hesitated, thinking about times in the
past when he’d come around, told her loved her, and asked her to take him back.
There was no doubt that he’d had some kind of hold over her, much the same as
Aaron’s ex had over him, by the sounds of it, but just like him, she’d finally
reached the end of her tether. She might not have as much self-respect as some
people, but she had enough that she wasn’t going to let a man jilt her at the
altar and then come back for more.

“No,” she said flatly. “Like I said, I’m
not stupid.”

A frown flickered on Hitch’s brow as if he
was trying to work out whether she meant what she said. Rowan shifted on the
sofa. “You said it’s about where you go from here. Do you have any plans?”

Bridget sipped her coffee. “I need time to
work out what I want from life and what’s important to me.”

“Do you want to leave the Four Seasons?”
Rowan looked dismayed.

She looked out of the window. “I don’t
think so. I have the flat for two more weeks and then I have to find somewhere
else to live. I just need time to think.” She looked back at Rowan, surprised
to see her friend’s eyes glittering with tears. “Hey, come on. I’m not just
going to give up everything I’ve worked for to sail around the world or
something. I love my job, and I’m proud of what we’ve achieved. I don’t want to
give it all up. But I’ve been coasting for a couple of years, and I need to… I
don’t know… reboot myself, I suppose.”

Hitch put his arm around his fiancée and
hugged her against him. “So what are you planning to do?”

“Well, I have two weeks off. I thought I
might go away for a while.”

“To Vanuatu?”

“No. I’ll stay in New Zealand. I might go
up north for a bit. Spend some time exploring, visit the beaches.”

“Auckland?” Hitch asked.

“Yes, at first, then the Northland. I
haven’t been before, and it’s supposed to be beautiful.”

They both looked puzzled. “I suppose,”
Hitch said doubtfully. Then he frowned. “Are you going alone?”

“Yes.”

“So this isn’t about Aaron.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second,
but it was enough for him to notice.

“Fuck,” he said.

Rowan’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going away
with the guy you met last night?”

“No.” Bridget’s cheeks flooded with heat.

“Jesus, Birdie.” Hitch rested his head on
the back of the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m not,” she said. “Probably.” She hadn’t
yet decided whether she would call in on him.

That morning, he’d called her a taxi and
said goodbye at the door. He’d given her cash for the taxi, and a note with his
mobile number, his home number in Russell, and the name of his surgery written
on it. “Just in case,” he told her with a smile, and that was all he’d said
about meeting up again.

Part of her was sure he’d only suggested it
out of guilt. She was sure the flicker of attraction she’d felt between them
had been in her imagination, and besides, she was hardly ready for a new
relationship.

But she liked him, and she wanted to see
him again.

“He lives in Russell,” she admitted. “He’s
a vet, and he has a surgery there. He comes down to Wellington every two weeks
to visit his son. He was telling me about Russell, and he suggested that if I
go anywhere near there, I could stay in a hotel or a B and B nearby, and maybe
we’ll meet up for dinner or something.”

“I can’t believe this guy,” Hitch snapped.
“You’d been jilted at the altar, for fuck’s sake. You’re vulnerable and
emotional—he should have rung the police or something, not taken you back to
his fucking hotel. And now he wants you to go away with him for the week!
Birdie, for crying out loud, can’t you see how fucking screwed up this is?”

Her eyes stung with hot tears. He made
Aaron sound like some kind of freak who preyed on young woman. “So you’re
telling me there are no good people left in this world? No good men? Nobody can
act out of the goodness of their hearts to help someone in trouble? Every guy
wants to get in my panties, is that it? Every man’s a potential rapist?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he glowered.

“Yes you are. Put yourself in his place,
Hitch. He could have walked straight by me, but he didn’t—he and his son took
me into their home, such as it was, and treated me with nothing but respect.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I
slept in the spare bed while Aaron shared with his son.”

“So you didn’t rent another room then?”

“I didn’t have any money. He offered to get
me one but it was late by then, and it seemed pointless.”

His glare didn’t fade. Bridget blew out a
slow breath, trying to put herself in his shoes. He’d had to care for her his
whole life—in many ways he’d taken on the role of father as well as brother.
He’d had to watch her take Mal back time after time, and he’d done so—so far—without
saying “I told you so.” He was only worried about her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said gently. “I’m okay,
really. I’m not going to run off with the first guy I see. But he’s nice and
friendly, and I like the idea of spending some time with him.”

“He sounded all right,” Hitch admitted
gruffly. “He genuinely seemed worried about you.”

“Tell us about him,” Rowan suggested.

“He’s early to mid-thirties—I forgot to
ask, but his son’s seven. He’s divorced, and his ex sounds like a nightmare.
She moved to Wellington, so he has to fly down to see his son. She wants to
take him back to Spain—she’s Spanish, but he’s taken her to court to stop her,
so of course she’s pissed with him about it. It’s not an easy situation, and I
do feel sorry for him.”

“What does he look like?”

Bridget thought back to when he’d cupped
her face and kissed her forehead. Her pulse picked up speed as she remembered
the look in his eyes. He’d wanted to kiss her. Had he been caught up in the
moment too, or had there genuinely been an attraction between them? She wasn’t
sure, but she wanted to find out.

“He’s tall, not quite as tall as you,
Hitch, but big like you, broad shoulders. A nice face. A short beard. Kind gray
eyes. He has these lines here,” she touched the outside of her eyes, “that make
me think he smiles a lot. Of course I realize that you can’t base everything on
first impressions, but even so, he had a good relationship with his son, and
he’s a vet. That’s kind of like someone saying they’re a doctor or a fireman,
isn’t it? There’s something trustworthy about people in those professions. I
think it must be rare for there to be any serial killers who are vets or
ambulance drivers.”

“Yeah.” Hitch’s lips curved up. “Well… if
you’re sure you know what you’re doing…”

“No, I’m not sure, but apart from Mal I’ve
always been sensible and predictable, haven’t I? I’ve always done the right
thing. I’ve never rebelled against you, or gone off the rails. I’ve only ever
gone out with one man, for Christ’s sake, I’m hardly a slut. I’m not saying I’m
going to the bay to… you know… be with Aaron—I’m not even sure I’m going to see
him yet. But if I do, it will be nice to do something different. To be
somewhere else. To talk about different things. To be with a man who doesn’t stir
up my emotions like someone sticking their finger in a drink and swirling it
around.”

“All right. So when are you flying up?”

“I’m going home now, and I’ll check out the
flights and see if they have any seats left today or tomorrow. I’ll have my
phone, and we can stay in touch. Please don’t worry about me,” she begged. “I
am an adult now.”

“It’s not about being grown up.” He leaned
forward, elbows on his knees, to look at her with a furrowed brow. “You’ve been
to university and lived on your own for years. I don’t doubt that you can take
care of yourself physically. That’s not in question at all. And I don’t doubt
your judgment, even though it must sound like it to you. What happened
yesterday was horrendous—I can’t explain to you how it felt to look into your
eyes and have to tell you that the man you wanted to marry thought so little of
you that he hadn’t turned up. It nearly killed me, Birdie. I love you, and I
wanted to put my hands around that fucker’s throat and strangle the life out of
him.”

“Who hit him?” she asked.

Rowan chuckled. “Rhett. Everyone had come
around here to talk, and Mal knocked on the door—I don’t know who let him in
the front door, one of the neighbors, I guess. Gene answered, and he immediately
had him up against the wall with an arm across his throat. Mal pushed him off,
so Rhett decked him. We all cheered.”

“I couldn’t get to him,” Hitch grumbled.
“Otherwise he would have been meatloaf.”

“What did he say?” she asked. They
exchanged a glance. “Aaron told me that you said Mal said something about still
wanting to marry me.”

“Jesus. Clearly there was no point in
asking him not to say anything.”

“He was on my side,” Bridget said, and the
thought gave her a little glow inside.

“Well anyway, yeah, Mal blubbered on about
being sorry and said that he still loved you and still wanted to marry you.”

“I hope you said that it was up to me and
you wouldn’t dream of interfering.” She met Rowan’s gaze and winked.