Second Chance Girl
Page 18
Ronan looked from the glass to him and back. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
Mathias shrugged. “It has to be perfect.”
“Now you sound like him.”
“Dad being an egomaniac and an asshole doesn’t mean he’s always wrong.”
“What about those?” His brother pointed to the stack of imperfect dishes, bowls and mugs on shelves.
“They don’t matter,” Mathias admitted.
Ronan didn’t look convinced. “People line up in the street on the day those pieces go on sale.”
“Nobody’s life is changed by a plate.”
“Nobody’s life is changed by much of anything we can make in this studio.”
Before Mathias could respond, his brother walked away. Something Ronan had been doing a lot these days. No—he’d been doing it since their encounter with their father. Everything had changed and Mathias didn’t know how to make things go back to the way they’d been.
He checked on his two pendants, then ripped off his protective goggles. There was no way he would get more work done today, he thought grimly. Not with how he was feeling now. He went into Natalie’s office. Sophie jumped to her feet, her tail wagging.
“Come on,” he told her. “I’ll take you for a walk. That will make us both feel better.”
And if it didn’t, at least he’d taken the moral high ground—walking a dog rather than destroying more innocent glass.
* * *
ULRICH HAD NO idea if Violet would show for dinner or not. He told himself that regardless of the outcome, he’d done what he could and would be able to look his grandmother in the eye with a clear conscience. He’d apologized and had attempted to make amends. How Violet responded to that was beyond his control. Although as the time ticked closer to six, he found himself hoping she would show up. For his grandmother’s sake, he added hastily. Because it would be easier on him if he was able to give a few details about their dinner. Not because he was looking forward to spending time in Violet’s company.
If only he hadn’t been wrong, he thought grimly. If only his grandmother’s secretary hadn’t mentioned the outgoing packages. If only the inventory hadn’t turned up so many discrepancies. Whatever circumstances had conspired, he’d ended up here—at a restaurant in Happily Inc, California, waiting on a woman who might or might not show up for their...appointment.
Not date. Never a date. This was practically a business meeting. They were here to clear the air, nothing more. Which all sounded great but didn’t explain the sudden rush of anticipation that kicked him in the gut when he saw a tall redhead walk into the foyer.
Had she been beautiful two days ago and had he just not noticed, or had she done whatever it was women did to make themselves alluring? She still had thick, glossy curls that tumbled down her back. Her eyes had always been wide and green. But her skin seemed more luminous and her dress—a simple black number that emphasized her curves—was pure magic.
He moved toward her and held out his hand. In part to be polite but mostly to feel her skin against his own. He wanted to know if there would be a reaction when they touched. If the attraction would die as quickly as it had formed or if it would explode into—
“Ulrich,” she said, putting her hand in his.
The heat was immediate, as was a sinking sense of having been played by fate. His relationship with his ex-wife had been based on their being a sensible match. Since the divorce, he’d avoided entanglements of any kind, so it had been years since he’d experienced the dark, sensual, visceral burn of desperately wanting any one woman.
“Miss Lund.”
She raised her eyebrows as she released his hand. “Come now, Ulrich. We’re not auditioning for a drawing room comedy. You can call me Violet. It’s so much nicer than the other names you’ve been using in your mind.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only thought gracious, lovely things about you.”
She stepped close and lowered her voice. “You go to hell for lying, same as stealing.”
Her tone was teasing, her breath warm on his neck.
“I have every confidence the good Lord wants me with him when I die.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”
The hostess appeared and told them their table was ready. They were shown to a quiet booth against the far wall. The restaurant was more crowded than he would have expected for a weeknight and he was pleased he’d thought to make a reservation.
Violet sat across from him. She ignored the menu, instead focusing her considerable attention on him.
“This is awkward.”
“A little,” he conceded. “I appreciate you joining me. It seemed the least I could do.”
“Plus, your grandmother made you.”
“She wanted me to make sure we repaired our relationship. The decision to invite you to dinner was mine.” He cleared his throat. “I do want to apologize again for what I said.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. You were wrong. I personally get to revel in your wrongness and now you’re buying me a nice dinner. It’s fine. You can stop apologizing.”
“You’re very straightforward.”
“No more than most women I know.” She flashed him a smile. “I suspect it’s an American thing. We’re not really into subtle.”
“I admire your sensibilities.” And other things about her, he thought, doing his best not to let his gaze stray to the edge of her breasts exposed by the vee of her dress. “And your graciousness, under the circumstances.”
“So what happened?” she asked. “How did I get to be the bad guy?”
He explained about the household inventory and the mysterious packages, carefully leaving out any mention of his grandmother’s secretary. While he doubted the other woman had been trying to trap him into falling in love with her, she’d acted against his grandmother’s best wishes and that was unforgivable.
When he’d finished, Violet opened her mouth, then closed it. “You take an inventory?” She held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Of course you have to. The house is like a million years old and there are beautiful things everywhere. It’s just so different from anything I’ve experienced. My bonding story is I check to see if I need paper towels before I go to the grocery store. Other than that, I live my personal life inventory free. I do inventory my buttons, but that’s different.”
“I check for paper towels, as well. We have so much in common.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. The clear, happy sound tugged at something deep inside of him. A dark, lonely place that had avoided the light of day for too long.
“Your grandmother is lucky to have you,” she said.
“I’m lucky, as well. She’s my entire family. I would do anything for her.”
Their server came to take their drink orders. Violet ordered a cosmopolitan while he chose a single malt Scotch.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Violet said when their server had left. “Your grandmother told me she was devastated by the loss. You must have been, as well.”
“I was. He’d been ill for a while, but one never expects the end when it happens. I’d been training for the job for years, but still found it difficult to be half as excellent as he had been.”
“I doubt that.” She smiled at him. “You’re very good at what you do.”
Mathias shrugged. “It has to be perfect.”
“Now you sound like him.”
“Dad being an egomaniac and an asshole doesn’t mean he’s always wrong.”
“What about those?” His brother pointed to the stack of imperfect dishes, bowls and mugs on shelves.
“They don’t matter,” Mathias admitted.
Ronan didn’t look convinced. “People line up in the street on the day those pieces go on sale.”
“Nobody’s life is changed by a plate.”
“Nobody’s life is changed by much of anything we can make in this studio.”
Before Mathias could respond, his brother walked away. Something Ronan had been doing a lot these days. No—he’d been doing it since their encounter with their father. Everything had changed and Mathias didn’t know how to make things go back to the way they’d been.
He checked on his two pendants, then ripped off his protective goggles. There was no way he would get more work done today, he thought grimly. Not with how he was feeling now. He went into Natalie’s office. Sophie jumped to her feet, her tail wagging.
“Come on,” he told her. “I’ll take you for a walk. That will make us both feel better.”
And if it didn’t, at least he’d taken the moral high ground—walking a dog rather than destroying more innocent glass.
* * *
ULRICH HAD NO idea if Violet would show for dinner or not. He told himself that regardless of the outcome, he’d done what he could and would be able to look his grandmother in the eye with a clear conscience. He’d apologized and had attempted to make amends. How Violet responded to that was beyond his control. Although as the time ticked closer to six, he found himself hoping she would show up. For his grandmother’s sake, he added hastily. Because it would be easier on him if he was able to give a few details about their dinner. Not because he was looking forward to spending time in Violet’s company.
If only he hadn’t been wrong, he thought grimly. If only his grandmother’s secretary hadn’t mentioned the outgoing packages. If only the inventory hadn’t turned up so many discrepancies. Whatever circumstances had conspired, he’d ended up here—at a restaurant in Happily Inc, California, waiting on a woman who might or might not show up for their...appointment.
Not date. Never a date. This was practically a business meeting. They were here to clear the air, nothing more. Which all sounded great but didn’t explain the sudden rush of anticipation that kicked him in the gut when he saw a tall redhead walk into the foyer.
Had she been beautiful two days ago and had he just not noticed, or had she done whatever it was women did to make themselves alluring? She still had thick, glossy curls that tumbled down her back. Her eyes had always been wide and green. But her skin seemed more luminous and her dress—a simple black number that emphasized her curves—was pure magic.
He moved toward her and held out his hand. In part to be polite but mostly to feel her skin against his own. He wanted to know if there would be a reaction when they touched. If the attraction would die as quickly as it had formed or if it would explode into—
“Ulrich,” she said, putting her hand in his.
The heat was immediate, as was a sinking sense of having been played by fate. His relationship with his ex-wife had been based on their being a sensible match. Since the divorce, he’d avoided entanglements of any kind, so it had been years since he’d experienced the dark, sensual, visceral burn of desperately wanting any one woman.
“Miss Lund.”
She raised her eyebrows as she released his hand. “Come now, Ulrich. We’re not auditioning for a drawing room comedy. You can call me Violet. It’s so much nicer than the other names you’ve been using in your mind.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only thought gracious, lovely things about you.”
She stepped close and lowered her voice. “You go to hell for lying, same as stealing.”
Her tone was teasing, her breath warm on his neck.
“I have every confidence the good Lord wants me with him when I die.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”
The hostess appeared and told them their table was ready. They were shown to a quiet booth against the far wall. The restaurant was more crowded than he would have expected for a weeknight and he was pleased he’d thought to make a reservation.
Violet sat across from him. She ignored the menu, instead focusing her considerable attention on him.
“This is awkward.”
“A little,” he conceded. “I appreciate you joining me. It seemed the least I could do.”
“Plus, your grandmother made you.”
“She wanted me to make sure we repaired our relationship. The decision to invite you to dinner was mine.” He cleared his throat. “I do want to apologize again for what I said.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. You were wrong. I personally get to revel in your wrongness and now you’re buying me a nice dinner. It’s fine. You can stop apologizing.”
“You’re very straightforward.”
“No more than most women I know.” She flashed him a smile. “I suspect it’s an American thing. We’re not really into subtle.”
“I admire your sensibilities.” And other things about her, he thought, doing his best not to let his gaze stray to the edge of her breasts exposed by the vee of her dress. “And your graciousness, under the circumstances.”
“So what happened?” she asked. “How did I get to be the bad guy?”
He explained about the household inventory and the mysterious packages, carefully leaving out any mention of his grandmother’s secretary. While he doubted the other woman had been trying to trap him into falling in love with her, she’d acted against his grandmother’s best wishes and that was unforgivable.
When he’d finished, Violet opened her mouth, then closed it. “You take an inventory?” She held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Of course you have to. The house is like a million years old and there are beautiful things everywhere. It’s just so different from anything I’ve experienced. My bonding story is I check to see if I need paper towels before I go to the grocery store. Other than that, I live my personal life inventory free. I do inventory my buttons, but that’s different.”
“I check for paper towels, as well. We have so much in common.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. The clear, happy sound tugged at something deep inside of him. A dark, lonely place that had avoided the light of day for too long.
“Your grandmother is lucky to have you,” she said.
“I’m lucky, as well. She’s my entire family. I would do anything for her.”
Their server came to take their drink orders. Violet ordered a cosmopolitan while he chose a single malt Scotch.
“I’m sorry about your father,” Violet said when their server had left. “Your grandmother told me she was devastated by the loss. You must have been, as well.”
“I was. He’d been ill for a while, but one never expects the end when it happens. I’d been training for the job for years, but still found it difficult to be half as excellent as he had been.”
“I doubt that.” She smiled at him. “You’re very good at what you do.”
