Having Her: Lies We Tell, Book 2 (34 page)

A small silence fell between them.

“I need to show you something, Kara.”

“Show me something? Show me what?”

“I can’t explain. You need to see it.”

This was harder than she expected. Seeing him again, having him here to pick her up. The look on his face so different she hardly recognized it. It made her ache “Why? Vin, I’m really tired and—”

“Please.” He didn’t say anything else. Just that one word. And she knew she wasn’t going to refuse.

The breath went out of her. What could it hurt? “All right. But once I’ve seen whatever it is, I want to go home.”

He nodded then finally took his hands out of his pockets. “The Corvette’s outside. I’ll deal with the luggage.”

She let him take over because she was too tired to argue. Shit, he could take her case, it wasn’t like she wanted to deal with them.

Vin pushed her trolley outside and unlocked the car for her so she could get in. And as she did so, the pressure in her chest got worse because the smell of the leather upholstery reminded her of him. Of the times she’d been in this car with him.

“You never did tell me why a Corvette,” she said as he got in and started the car. “It’s kind of pretentious.”

“I wanted one,” Vin said shortly. “So when I had enough money I bought one. It’s the first thing I ever had that I wanted for myself.” There was a pause then he glanced at her, a brief searing look. “The second was you.”

Kara caught her breath. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting but—”

“Don’t speak. Don’t say anything until you’ve seen what I’ve got to show you.”

Maybe she should have argued but today she couldn’t be bothered. Tired and jetlagged, oppressed by the tension between them, by her the sheer weight of her own need for him, she shut up and turned to look out the window instead.

But it was difficult to relax when he was right there, right next to her. And she was so aware of him on just about every level. The muscular length of his thigh encased in blue denim. The sun highlighting the copper strands in his dark hair. The familiar, spicy Vin-scent she remembered. And the tension she could feel coiling around him, the evidence clear in the way he held the steering wheel, his knuckles white. In his powerful shoulders. In the hard line of his beautiful mouth.

Whatever it was he had to show her, it was clearly freaking him out.

She didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not, so she tried not to think about it.

Soon it became obvious they weren’t going to her apartment. Vin didn’t take the motorway exit that led into the CBD, carrying on driving out to the northwest of the city. She bit down on the questions, saying nothing as they drove on, the silence growing larger and heavier the farther from the city they got.

By the time they hit the twisty, windy roads that led out to the beaches west of the city, she recognized where they were headed. To Piha. Where his house was.

But still she kept quiet, not saying a word as eventually they pulled into the narrow, gravel driveway that led to his house.

Until he stopped the car outside it.

Wooden steps led up to the front door, a few plants in pots clustered around the entrance.

She blinked. Those hadn’t been there before, had they?

Vin kept silent as he got out of the car, coming round to open her door and as she slid out of the car, he remained silent, walking quickly up the steps to unlock the front door.

“Vin,” she said hesitantly.

“Come inside.” He pushed the front door open for her.

Slowly she did so, unable to quite believe it when she got inside.

The place was no longer the half-lined structure she’d been in once before. It was finished.

The walls had been painted plain white, the wooden floorboards polished. The hallway was full of light, the sun streaming through windows high on the walls, conveying a feeling of peace, of openness and warmth.

Pictures had been hung at intervals down the hallway. Pictures she recognized because they were hers.

“Vin…” she said again, not really understanding what was going on.

He’d gone back to the car for her case and now dumped it in the hallway by the door. Then he said, “Come down here.” He didn’t wait for her, walking on down the hallway to what she remembered was the main living area.

She followed him, her heart beating fast for seemingly no apparent reason. And then when she came through the doorway, she stopped.

More fresh white walls and polished wood floors. Lots of windows facing the amazing view of the sea. Lots of sun and light. A bookcase full of books, little knickknacks on the shelf, more pictures on the walls, a long leather couch with a familiar throw on it.

In fact, most of the things in the room were familiar because again, they were all hers. There were a few other items that weren’t, the couch for one, and the bookcase. A sleek console table that held an expensive stereo. An armchair by a window that had a quirky, retro look to it that even though definitely wasn’t hers was certainly something she’d buy if she had the money.

“Why are my things here?” she said, her voice sounding hoarse in the silence of the room.

But Vin didn’t answer. Silently he came up to her and took her hand, sending a shockwave of heat through her. Then he led her back down the hallway and up a short set of stairs, and into another, smaller room with a sloping roof, skylights bathing the whole place in light. Through the windows, amongst the green leaves of the trees outside, she caught a glimpse of the sea.

There was a large desk against one wall, an artist’s desk with pens and inks all neatly arranged on it. The wall opposite was covered completely with artwork. Hers.

The colors were vibrant against the simple white of the décor, like artwork in an art gallery or something.

Kara couldn’t speak. This was a room for drawing, for inspiration, for creating art. An artist’s studio. The kind of room she’d dreamed of having once a long time ago.

His fingers tightened around hers and he tugged her out of the room and farther on down the short hallway, into another room. This one had a rug on the floor, muffling their steps. There was an armchair in one corner near the windows, a high wing-backed one she’d found in a second-hand store and always planned to restore one day. A crib stood near one wall, all smooth, shining oiled wood. It looked handmade. And on the walls…

The sound of her indrawn breath was loud in the room. She had no idea how he’d done it but somehow he’d gotten a wall decal made of Dark Shadow, Ellie’s heroine that she’d been drawing. She was in mid-air, her arm raised, and her hair—the last bit Kara had done—was blue. And on the other wall, Iron Wolf, her supposed nemesis, looking like he was preparing to meet her in battle. Or to help her…

Kara’s eyes were full of tears. This was their baby’s room. With her art on the wall.

In fact everywhere, throughout the whole of Vin’s house, she was there. As if he’d built it for her alone.

She turned to face him.

He’d drawn away slightly, his hands in fists, the tension in him so obvious.

“I don’t understand,” she blurted out. “This whole place is full of my things. Why?”

“Because it’s for you,” he said, his voice even rougher than normal. “All of it is for you and the baby.”

“Me? I don’t—”

“When I was seven, my dad asked me to draw a picture of a house. The kind of house our family would live in.” The tension around him seemed to coil even tighter. “So I did. And I kept that drawing. I swore to myself I’d build that house one day. For my family.”

She blinked. “I’m not sure—”

“Kara. Let me speak.”

She shut up.

Vin turned, went over to the crib, ran a gentle hand over the wood as if checking it for splinters. “But then Mum got sick. And Dad left. And our family wasn’t a family anymore.” He touched one of the metal fittings that held up the sides of the crib. “Then one day I decided, fuck him, I’d build that house anyway. But it would be for me. Just me.” His hand fell away and he turned back to her, the look in his eyes pinning her to the spot. “And then I met you. And things changed and I realized this house
would
be for my family after all. For our child.” He became very still, staring at her. “For you. Most especially you. This is your home, Kara. The apartment is still there if you want it, and I left some of the furniture behind in case you want to go back there, but this house and everything in it was made for you. It’s yours.”

She could feel tears prickling, her throat so tight she could barely breathe. “Mine?”

“I transferred the title into your name.”

“What?” That didn’t make any sense. “Why? Why would do you do that?”

His throat moved, his hands dropping to his sides then shoving into his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’ve been taking care of people for a long time. When Dad left someone had to do it and I stepped up because I thought taking responsibility made me better than him. But it didn’t.” He hesitated as if trying to find the words. “I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to. I was doing it to make me feel better about myself.” Vin stopped again, taking an audible breath. “Dad didn’t tell me he was leaving. He said he was visiting friends down south and would be back in a couple of days. But he didn’t come back. And I was so angry with him. I…I’ve been angry ever since.”

“Oh…” His figure wavered, tears filling her eyes.

“I have to let that anger go, Kara. If I want to be a good father. If I want to be a better man. If I don’t want to be a selfish prick like he was.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “So that’s why this house is yours. Why I won’t be in it. Because you’re strong and independent. And I don’t want you to have to be reliant on anyone. Even me.”

That knocked the breath from her. “Vin—”

“No, there’s just one more thing I need to say. And…I don’t know how… I’m not good at…” He stopped again, let out a breath. Then he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing so close to her they were almost touching. His gaze never left hers and she felt the pressure inside her come to screaming point. Then abruptly he dropped to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed his forehead against her stomach. “I just fucking love you, Kara. And all I want is for you to be happy.”

The words were muffled and thick but she heard them. Oh God, she heard them.

She stood there in shock, Vin’s warm arms around her like they were holding her up. Or maybe she was holding him up because he was shaking with tension.

She looked down, copper gleaming amongst the nearly black of his hair, the tanned skin of his arms around her waist, the black cotton of his T-shirt pulled tight over his shoulders.

This powerful, strong man, who was on his knees in front of her. Whose grip on her was so tight, it was like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let her go.

Who’d bared himself so completely to her in a way she never thought he would.

The ability to speak had long gone so she didn’t even try. Instead she let her fingers sift through the silky strands of his hair, soothing. Gentle. Letting him know she’d heard him. Letting him know he wasn’t alone.

Because he wasn’t. Neither of them were. They’d both been alone for far too long.

He’d never known true fear until this moment. At her feet, telling her the truth that had been in his heart so long it was amazing he’d managed to lie to himself for as long as he had.

He’d never given himself like this to another person in all his life, and he felt like his heart would explode out of his chest with want, with yearning. With fear.

He wanted her so desperately. But he wouldn’t force her into anything she didn’t want to do for his own selfish reasons. He was done with that. Right now, this was truly her choice.

And then her touch, the movement of her fingers in his hair. And he began to shake with relief. With the sheer intensity of the emotion that swept through him. It was so powerful, so immense. So vast. He’d never understood that till now.

He couldn’t move for long moments, just kneeling at her feet, the warmth of her body like the first rays of spring sun in a dark arctic winter.

When she’d come out of customs at the airport, it had taken everything he had not to go to her and hold her. Because she looked so tired, dark circles under her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses, her honey-gold skin pale. Her hair was dyed pastel pink, and the oversized T-shirt and faded skinny jeans she wore made her look small and fragile. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

But he hadn’t wanted to touch her or talk about it until she’d seen the house. Until he had a chance to explain.

Fancy, romantic phrases had never been his specialty. So he hoped she’d understand what he’d been trying to do with the house. To show her how much she meant to him. How much their baby meant to him. How sorry he was for hurting her.

How much he loved her.

After a moment, he loosed his arms from around her and rose to his feet. Her eyes were dark, liquid.

“I guess that means you’re staying, right?” He couldn’t quite keep the roughness from his voice.