“Evelyn?”
Evie buried her face in the pillow and pretended not to hear him. The whole night had been wonderful. It had felt like the beginning of something life-changing, but they’d yet to talk about what it meant, except for that single aborted conversation, and she wasn’t sure if she was mentally fortified enough to open the topic. What if he didn’t view things the same way she did? She’d hurt him once before, so it would be reasonable for him to be a little reluctant to jump into something with her.
“Evelyn, darlin’, you’ve got to wake up. The mechanic is here.”
What?
She must have spoken out loud, because he repeated, “I said the mechanic is here.”
She rolled over and sat up, blinking until her vision cleared, trying to make sense of his words. While she’d intended to call the mechanic, she never had. “What’s he doing here?”
“I called him for you. I knew you’d be eager to hit the road again.”
Touching a finger to her ear, she wondered if it had begun translating English incorrectly. Had she done something to give him the impression she wouldn’t want to hang around and talk this through—or at the very least, eat breakfast and go for another round?
Her stomach roiled as a dreadful possibility occurred to her. Was he trying to get rid of her? Was this his way of letting her down gently? Disappointment stabbed through her, leaving a cold, aching hole in her chest. She rubbed it absently.
“Okay, I’ll dress. Just give me a moment.”
His ginger brows drew together and lowered over his deep green eyes. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I am.” Her tone was so flat she couldn’t even fool herself. “Thank you, Davy, for helping me get on my way.”
She sounded like a bitch, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want him to rush her out the door. She wanted him to make bagels and eat them in bed with her. For once in her goddamned life, she wanted to stay. But she wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. Her mama raised her to have more self-respect than that.
“I’d say ‘you’re welcome’, but I’m not sure you really mean it. Where’s your head at, Evelyn?”
She shook the aforementioned head. “Nowhere. Don’t worry, I’m being silly.” Come to think of it, being silly would have been expecting affection from her ex, years after she broke his heart and left him in her dust. Just because her priorities had changed didn’t mean his feelings toward her had.
“Are you okay?”
No, but she would be. “Yeah, of course.”
She climbed out of his bed, the cool morning air gliding over her naked body, and noticed his pupils dilate as he looked at her. He might not want her to stay, but he still wanted her, and that was something. She padded across the carpet to collect her clothes, and tugged them on under his watchful gaze. Then she brushed past him and went to the spare room, grabbed her toothbrush and deodorant, and headed to the bathroom to clean up.
Once she didn’t stink and her breath tasted minty fresh, she zipped her suitcase shut and wheeled it out. Two minutes later, she was standing on the footpath outside the bar, where a stocky blond guy with a short beard was waiting.
“I’m Evie,” she said, determined to smother her internal bitch because this guy was out here at the crack of dawn on Boxing Day and didn’t deserve her snark. “Nice to meet you.”
“Joe,” he replied, shaking her hand with his own. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattooed forearms. He was an attractive guy, and based on the way he scanned her, pausing at her butt and chest, she’d say he thought the same of her, but unfortunately, she felt no interest. Not so much as a flicker. All of her interest was reserved for the lanky redhead standing behind her, trying to usher her out of his life.
“I’ve already got your car rigged up,” Joe said. “You good to go? Davy said you’d want to ride down with me and wait while I take a look under the hood.”
“Oh he did, did he?” She tried to reign it in, reminding herself none of this was Joe’s fault.
“Uh, yeah.” He frowned. “So you coming, or what?” He tapped the side panel of his cab and gestured for her to get in.
“Guess so.” She turned to Davy, wishing her heart didn’t flip-flop like a traitor at the sight of his stupidly handsome face. “Thanks for everything.” The words felt wholly inadequate after the time they’d passed together, but his expression didn’t welcome anything more personal. “I’ll see you round?”
He nodded. “Don’t be a stranger.” Then he ducked his head, pecked her lips, and stepped back a couple of paces.
Evie strode to the front of the cab, yanked the door open and leapt inside the scuffed leather interior. Then she lowered the window and waved, pretending a light-heartedness she didn’t know if she’d ever feel again. “Merry Christmas, O’Connor.”
“Meri Kirihimete, Evelyn.”
She let out a slow breath, wound up the window, and smiled at Joe. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.”
“No worries, honey.”
Davy returned inside, cursing himself for being an idiot—not an unfamiliar occurrence for him, especially when Evelyn was around. He drew the curtains back and watched the tow truck vanish around the corner, out of sight.
It had been the right thing to do, hadn’t it?
He’d been more convinced before he saw the shock in her eyes, and the stiffness creeping into her body. When the smile on her plump lips had compressed itself into nonexistence, he’d had the horrid thought he may have misjudged things. But she hadn’t said anything, just gone quiet and gathered her things. She hadn’t yelled at him, as she used to when he was being a moron, and she hadn’t tried to persuade him to rejoin her in bed. But then, she hadn’t thanked him, either.
He sighed. He was overthinking this. They’d gotten caught up in the spirit of the holidays, nothing more. And yeah, he’d been happier in the brief time he’d spent with her than he had in months, but that didn’t mean she felt the same way, and it certainly didn’t mean anything would come of it. As far as he knew, nothing had changed. His life was in Itirangi, and hers was in whatever distant horizon she set her compass for next.
He cared for her, but so what? His wishing for her to love him didn’t make it so.
He struggled for control of his emotions, but it was futile. He’d have to visit the gym and lift weights until his body was so weary he couldn’t think of anything, but he wasn’t sure even that would erase her from his mind.
As it happened, Evie’s shitty car was unfixable, so she left it with the mechanic to use for parts, receiving a small payout in exchange—enough to get her through a couple of weeks at least. As the new year approached, she found herself bunking at her friend Monica’s place near Timaru while she worked mornings and early afternoons picking berries. Everything was back to normal. She should be happy, but instead the discontent that had been simmering inside her for months had grown into a festering wound she couldn’t ignore, much as she tried. And she tried.
She searched maps for her new destination, somewhere fun she could be excited about, but nowhere she considered brought more than a passing interest. Instead, she kept dwelling on Davy O’Connor, and his soulful eyes and hot body, and all the things she should have said to him rather than up and leaving as per usual.
She should have told him what Christmas had meant to her, what he meant to her, and asked for a second chance. Should have sent the mechanic away and seduced the reluctance right out of him. Hell, anything would have been better than just waving to him in the rearview mirror like she didn’t give a shit about him. For the second time. He’d never want to see her again after this, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Are you moping again?” Monica asked, coming into the living room, where Evie was curled on the couch with Monica’s pug, Norman.
“Nah, I’m just giving Norm some love.”
“Come on, babe.” Monica folded her athletic frame into an armchair and ran a hand through her short, dark hair. “If you miss him that much, just call him.”
Evie buried her face in Norman’s soft fur and when she spoke, her voice was muffled. “It’s not that simple.” Nothing was simple when it came to her and the sexy Irishman.
“Sure seems it from here.” Monica lounged back, stretching her legs out and resting her feet on the arm of the couch. “You like him, and he must like you, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone on a trip down memory lane considering how you crushed him the first time around—”
“Hey!” Evie protested.
“—so just suck up your pride and tell him how you feel.”
She groaned. “It sounds easy when you say it.”
Monica’s expression softened. “Not easy, babe, but not impossible, either. You’re a full-steam-ahead kind of woman. Why are you being so cautious now?”
Evie honestly wished she knew. She’d thought it over a hundred times, but never gotten a useful answer. The truth was, perhaps she cared about this more than anything else she’d done. In the past, she hadn’t been concerned about picking up her entire life and starting over, and over, and over, because the stakes hadn’t been high. Sure, if things went south, she’d be stretched for cash for a couple of weeks, but she always landed on her feet.
When it came to building a relationship and putting down roots, the stakes were infinitely higher, and she wasn’t sure she had the tools to succeed.
“I’ll think about calling him,” she conceded.
Monica raised an eyebrow, and Evie crinkled her nose in response. Yeah, she wasn’t buying her bullshit either.
On New Year’s Eve, Davy didn’t want to celebrate anything. Unfortunately, it was one of his busiest days of the year. When his phone rang, he answered without checking caller ID.
“You’ve reached Davy of Davy’s. What can I do you for?”
“Davy?” The voice belonged to a woman, and rose at the end in question. “This is Monica Jackman. Have you got a moment?”
“Not really, no.” As it was, he was pouring a pint of beer with the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder.
“It’s about Evie.”
Everything inside him froze. He hadn’t heard that name out loud in days, although it had been on replay inside his head. “What about her? Is she okay?”
If something had happened to her before he’d had the chance to tell her how he felt, he’d never forgive himself.
“She’s fine.”
Of course she was. He relaxed, and pushed the beer over the counter, gesturing to his employees that he’d be back in a moment, then he headed into the stairwell, away from the noise of the bar. “Look, Monica, I run a bar and we’re insanely busy right now so can you make it quick? What’s this about?”
“She misses you.”
His eyes bulged. “I beg your pardon?”
“She’s staying with me, and she’s been miserable ever since she arrived. I knew she wouldn’t reach out to you on her own, although God knows why, so I thought I’d do it for her. Can the two of you please just talk to each other?”
“Erm.” He swallowed. Hard. “What makes you think she misses me?”
Monica sighed, and even through the phone he could sense her eye-roll. “She talks about you every second sentence, she only gets out of her pajamas to work, and she’s not her usual self.”
Someone called his name, and he winced. The timing of this couldn’t be worse. “I’ve got to—”
“Go,” she finished for him. “I know. But promise me you’ll talk to her.” She paused. “She really cares about you.”
“I will,” he said, but she was gone. His heart hammered and he rested his forehead against the wall, willing it to calm down enough for him to go and serve the masses.
Evelyn missed him. Was it really possible? He bloody well hoped so, because some of the color had leached from his life when she left, and he found he didn’t care about keeping his heart safe anymore—he wanted her back. If what Monica said was true, he’d do whatever it took to hold onto her, because he’d gone and fallen for her again. Every flighty, nutty, brilliant part of her. If that made him off his rocker, worse things had happened.
But before he could woo his lady, he had to make it through the night.