Billionaire's Road Trip to Forever, page 4
‘Out of your league?’
Bree snorted, and he realised he’d spoken those last words out loud.
‘What a load of superannuated, noxious old garbage with prawn shells that have been sitting out in the burning sun for over a week!’ Bree’s nose wrinkled and then she rolled her eyes. ‘I take it we’re up to the pity-party phase of proceedings?’
He had to bite back what felt like an entirely inappropriate grin. Bree could never just say garbage. She had to add a ton of qualifiers so the listener wouldn’t mistake her meaning. To an outsider she’d sound unsympathetic, insensitive, but he knew her too well. She’d do everything she could to prevent him from descending into a cycle of despondency and shame...to stop him from wallowing in today’s humiliation.
He sobered. Except the events of the day were more than just an average case of the blues or a minor setback. This kicked a guy’s legs out from under him, gutted him, and left him bleeding and scarred for life.
‘You were plenty good enough for Princess Courtney, but the only person who couldn’t see it was you.’
‘You never liked her, so excuse me if I consider your comments a little biased.’
‘I didn’t know her well enough to either like or dislike her.’
But when she glanced at him, he raised an eyebrow and she reefed her gaze back to the road again and blew out a breath.
‘Okay, I was leaning more on the side of dislike,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll admit that much. But I hadn’t given up hope that I was wrong about her and that at some indeterminate time in the future we’d become friends.’
‘Why the dislike?’ A lot of women didn’t like Courtney, but he’d noticed that those same women also felt intimidated by her achievements, her intelligence and her effortless polish. He’d have not placed Bree among their number, though, and the thought started a low burn in his gut.
As if she could read his thoughts, and she probably could, she said, ‘I can forgive her for her model-style figure, that perfect face and a complexion to die for. I can even forgive her the university medal she won for academic excellence, not to mention the Premier’s Award for her charity work.’
Something inside him started to lighten. He should’ve known better. Bree wasn’t the kind of woman to feel jealous of other women. ‘What couldn’t you forgive?’
She was quiet for several long moments. ‘She stopped you from coming to Sunday night dinners.’
Sunday night dinner was an Allenby family tradition, started back before he knew them. Of course now, with all the kids grown up, absences were common. But whenever possible the entire family would gather at Janice and Colin’s for a roast dinner and family catch-up. He’d had a longstanding invitation from the age of eleven onwards.
‘That was my doing, not hers.’ His mind started to race. But was it? ‘Besides, I didn’t stop coming. I just didn’t make it quite so often.’
‘You went four months without showing your face on a Sunday night. Mum missed you.’
A bad taste filled his mouth. How could he have been so insensitive? ‘My fault,’ he repeated.
‘Courtney had a standing invitation. Everyone made sure she knew she was welcome. But how often did she come?’
He could count them all on the fingers of one hand. She’d only accompanied him to the Allenbys’ four times, and the last had to have been over seven months ago. He’d thought each evening had gone well, everyone had got along just fine and there’d been lots of laughter. Courtney had told him on each occasion that she’d really enjoyed herself, and yet...in two years she’d only accompanied him four times.
Why the hell hadn’t that fact bothered him more before today?
Because yesterday he’d been too busy seeing her as perfect?
He dragged a hand down his face, starting to see the flimsiness of the excuses he’d made on her behalf in his own mind. They’d been easy to make, though. After all, she was a busy woman with a lot of demands on her time. Her excuses whenever he’d extended the family night invitation had seemed genuinely plausible...understandable.
But actions spoke louder than words. She’d known how much the Allenbys meant to him and yet she still hadn’t found the time, not once in seven months, to join him there for another family dinner.
‘So there you have it, Noah.’ She flexed her hands on the wheel. ‘That’s why I didn’t like her. I felt she was stealing you away—that we were losing you rather than gaining her. She was always perfectly polite and pleasant, but it was clear she didn’t want...’
‘Didn’t want?’
Bree lifted one shoulder. ‘Didn’t want to be part of us.’ She continued to stare doggedly out of the window at the road ahead, and he found himself aching for her to turn and look at him, however briefly. ‘Which is fair enough, I suppose.’
No, it damn well wasn’t! He’d given Courtney everything she’d asked for. Why couldn’t she have done this one thing for him?
For the first time since he and Courtney had started dating, he saw a significant crack in their relationship and it made him suck in a breath. If he had married her, would she have forced him to choose between her and the Allenbys? The thought sent icy fingers creeping across his skull.
‘She played on your insecurities too, and I found that hard to forgive.’
He stiffened, and then immediately made himself relax and laugh. ‘Insecurities? What insecurities?’
She threw her head back and laughed—a deep warm sound so full of genuine humour and affection that he blinked. It should’ve jarred his nerves. Instead a strange warmth stirred in his blood. ‘You, Blake and Ryder are all so alike. It’s hilarious! Me, macho and indestructible.’ She beat on her chest Tarzan fashion.
She laughed again and he started, realising he’d been staring at her chest, his gaze drawn there when she beat on it. He gulped. When had Bree developed curves like that?
‘Everyone has insecurities, tough guy.’
He dragged his gaze away, forced himself to focus on her words rather than the pounding of his pulse.
Did Bree have insecurities? He’d never really thought about it. She always seemed so together and driven—knew what she wanted and how to go about getting it. ‘Fine, Ms Sigmund Freud, what are my insecurities?’
She glanced at him, eyes wide as if his question had startled her, but the expression in them gentled. ‘Oh, Noah.’
Something in her tone made him swallow. Her knuckles whitened about the steering wheel and he wanted to call the question back but he couldn’t. Because he was macho and a tough guy and he didn’t want to lose face. He’d lost enough face for one day. ‘Well?’
‘You said it yourself—you never felt worthy of Courtney. You always felt she was out of your league.’
His every muscle tensed and cramped.
‘You don’t know how wrong you are. Though I know you won’t believe me, you’re worth a hundred Courtneys.’ Her knuckles turned white again. ‘Courtney knew you felt that way too—knew your background bugged you.’
He folded his arms to hide the way his insides shrivelled at her words. ‘Courtney finally realised I wouldn’t fit into her perfectly polished world. And with that came the realisation she couldn’t go through with the wedding. Damn pity she didn’t come to that conclusion prior to the wedding ceremony with two hundred guests in attendance, though.’
Bree glanced at him. ‘You’re wrong, you know? She never considered you not worthy or herself somehow above you. I might not have liked her very much but I’ll give credit where it’s due. She led a privileged life, but I don’t think she was a snob.’
‘Like you said, you didn’t know her.’ He knew he was being unfair, but who would blame him after what Courtney had done today?
‘I’m not a trophy you get to hold aloft,’ Bree said quietly.
He shifted, the car seat suddenly hard beneath his backside. ‘I never thought of her as a trophy.’ He hadn’t. But a sense of unease wormed into the centre of his soul all the same.
‘She obviously thought you did.’
She glanced at him as if expecting him to say something, but he had nothing to say. He’d given Courtney everything. He’d given her his full attention, his total support...not to mention his time. Whatever she’d wanted to do, he’d always been on board with. He’d given her free rein with the wedding, and had left the choice of where they’d live once their married life had started up to her. It still hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough.
He wanted to say good riddance and be done with her. He wanted to feel as if he’d dodged a bullet. But all he felt was small and cheap—the way his parents had made him feel as a child. The way he’d been fighting against for thirty years. He wanted to crawl into some dark hidden hole, the way he’d used to crawl under the house as a little kid to avoid his father’s abuse and his mother’s backhands.
He’d worked hard over the past ten years—had achieved more than he’d ever dreamed possible. And yet here he was feeling like crap again, despite all of that. This was what happened when you gave someone that kind of power over you.
Well, no more. Never again. He hadn’t had any choice as a child, but he had the choice now as a grown man.
‘Let’s have some music,’ Bree finally said.
Inane pop immediately filled the car and while Bree hummed along, he couldn’t join in. He knew her casual attitude was simply a show of bravado, the glances she sent him when she didn’t think he was looking confirmed it, but he didn’t have the energy to ease her mind. The events of the day had finally caught up with him, and he was starting to see the impossibility of the dreams he’d once dared to dream. What an idiot he’d been.
He stared out of the window, not seeing the rich farmland, green after recent rains, or the signposts for popular beachside holiday destinations—Yamba, Caloundra, Byron Bay—all of it darkened by the grimness of his thoughts.
Family life, a wife and kids, were not meant for the likes of him. A howl started up at the centre of him, but he resolutely ignored it. He was a ridiculously successful businessman, the Allenbys were his surrogate family, and he had a circle of friends he’d die for. It was enough. He refused to want more.
If Courtney had given him an ultimatum, had asked him outright to choose between her and the Allenbys, he’d have sent her packing. There were no two ways about it. But she hadn’t—not in so many words. Now that he started to see what Bree had seen, though, the scales were falling from his eyes.
Courtney’s tactics had been far less direct, but more insidious for all of that. How long would it have taken him to work it out on his own—her weaning him away from them inch by careful inch? Once he’d worked it out, he’d have not stood for it. And if Courtney hadn’t given way it would’ve driven a wedge between them.
Was that why she’d called a halt to the wedding? Had she realised she’d never be able to wholly steal him away from the Allenbys? Why the hell would she want to anyway?
Things inside him went hard and cold. Courtney had wanted to make him over, mould him, into something more appropriate. And he’d wanted her to! He’d yearned for the polish and sophistication, the ease and composure, to navigate a world so far removed from the one that he’d grown up in.
Only he hadn’t seen where it might lead—the less than favourable consequences associated with such an overhaul.
Like he’d said, What an idiot.
* * *
They reached Coffs Harbour just before seven o’clock. He laughed at the spartan motel rooms Bree had booked. ‘I see you’re going all out here, Bree, and really treating yourself.’
‘Coffs Harbour was always just a layover. As I’m going to be spending two or three nights in Sydney, I’m planning to stay somewhere nicer there. This...’ she gestured around ‘...was just a convenient place to get some shut-eye. So...did you want to do anything? I was just going to grab takeaway unless you want to eat out.’
‘God, no.’
She nodded as if she’d figured that was what he’d say. ‘What would you like?’
‘Beer and bourbon.’ He fished out his wallet and held his credit card towards her. ‘And grab a bottle of Shiraz for yourself.’
She ignored the card. ‘How about a side order of pizza to go with that?’
‘Whatever you want.’ He wasn’t the slightest bit hungry.
With that, she left and it was only once he was alone that Noah realised how grounding Bree’s presence had been all day.
He’d been left at the altar. His bride had jilted him. The life he’d mapped out—the life he’d hungered for with every atom inside him—was gone.
He’d failed.
He was a failure.
He paced the room. ‘C’mon, Bree, hurry up.’ He wanted to get good and drunk before his thoughts ate him alive.
CHAPTER THREE
‘DON’T LET THE pizza go cold.’ Bree swiped the can of beer Noah had grabbed from the little bar fridge in her room and set it back inside before pushing the pizza box into his arms instead. ‘Have one slice at least. Please?’
She planted herself in front of the fridge and folded her arms. Noah had already drunk two beers in quick succession, and while she knew that he and her brothers could drink a lot when they put their minds to it, that didn’t mean they’d not wake up with sore heads the next day.
She didn’t kid herself—Noah was going to have a hangover tomorrow, probably one of mammoth proportions. She wasn’t even going to try and stop him from drowning his sorrows. But she’d do all she could to mitigate the damage.
He could pick her up and set her aside easily enough, and grab what was left of the six-pack. She fancied she saw that notion momentarily flash through his mind, but he eventually just shrugged and flashed her a grin. That grin. The grin she’d seen fell more women over the years than she could count.
‘I’ll have two pieces if it’ll make you feel better, Breanna.’
Dear God. The way he said her name in that lazy, husky-as-sin voice, enunciating each syllable as if her name were a delectable dish worth savouring. It made her aware that they were alone together in a hotel room. Her heart pitter-pattered to a faster beat while warmth gathered beneath her breastbone and rose to flood her cheeks.
Ooh, no, no, no. She wasn’t going to have those kinds of thoughts about Noah. She wasn’t going to become one of Noah’s Nymphettes.
Noah’s Nymphettes and the Twinses’ Minxes were what she’d dubbed the multitude of girls that had hovered in the three boys’ orbits from the time they’d hit puberty.
And once Bree had reached puberty, Bree’s Bad Boys had been added to the mix.
The last thought came out of nowhere, making her flinch.
‘Hell, Bree, I’ll stop drinking altogether if it bugs you that much.’
He’d taken the pizza box across to the bed and settled on one side with the pillows at his back, and while he looked relaxed and at ease she sensed the keenness behind the warm hazel of his eyes. She realised then that he’d thought he’d made her flinch.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t mind you drinking, Noah, but I am going to make you eat something first.’
She dropped a bag of salt and vinegar crisps to the bed—his favourite—along with a couple of bars of fruit and nut chocolate—her favourite—before settling on the other side of the bed and helping herself to a piece of pizza. ‘And a little later on I’m going to make you drink big glasses of water and you’re going to promise to drink them.’
‘Cross my heart.’ He pressed a hand to his chest before reaching for another slice of pizza. ‘No pineapple?’
She was pro pineapple on pizza. He wasn’t. ‘I wasn’t giving you any reason to refuse to eat it.’
He was quiet for several long seconds and just stared at her. ‘You’re a hell of a friend, you know that?’
‘Absolutely.’ She turned the compliment off lightly, but it warmed her to the soles of her feet.
‘Today’s been a bitch of a day, but—’
The golden highlights in his hazel eyes caught the light, making them spark. His eyes looked as deep and soulful as a galaxy. Her breath stuttered. ‘But?’ she choked out.
‘But that hasn’t stopped me from enjoying hanging out with you.’
Slowly she nodded. ‘I know what you mean. It’s the weirdest thing, right?’ It should’ve been an unrelentingly bad day.
Not that it hadn’t been bad. The morning had been appalling...atrocious...gob-smackingly awful. But there’d been pockets of time during the drive when things had been...nice. It seemed an insipid word to use, but that didn’t make it any less appropriate. Parts of today, hanging out with Noah, had been nice.
Obviously neither of them had expected that. Perhaps it was testament to the resilience of the human spirit? Or simply the comfort that could be found in old friends? Whatever, she was grateful for it.
She reached for the remote. ‘There has to be a game on. If memory serves me correct the women’s soccer team play an international friendly tonight and—’
‘I think I should feel more gutted than I am.’
Whoa!
She tossed the remote to the bedside table with a clatter and swung back to him. He’d leapt up to grab another beer. She shook her head when he gestured at the bottle of wine she’d bought. She’d only bought it to look sociable. She had no intention of drinking it. At least, not tonight.
Instinct told her to stay alert. Not to dull them...not to let her guard down and let the wildness inside her win. It had been trying to break free ever since she’d agreed to Tina’s plan, but she would keep a rein on it. Besides, tonight was for Noah. She needed to keep her wits sharp and do all she could to be the friend he needed.
‘You’ve had your heart broken, Bree.’ The bed dipped as he settled back down beside her. ‘Is this normal?’
