Unsuitable
Page 52
“Perfect,” I mutter angrily to myself.
Water spilling everywhere, I dash into Kas’s bathroom and grab a towel before jogging back into his room.
Fortunately, the only other thing on the nightstand is the lamp, so cleaning up the spillage isn’t too difficult. I lift the lamp, drying off the base. Then, I wipe down the sides of the nightstand and dry off the water that hit the carpet.
I notice the top drawer is slightly ajar.
Worried water might have gotten inside, I pull it open and dry off the lip of the drawer, eyes checking the contents.
All looks good.
Then, my eyes snag on a photograph that’s tucked down the side.
I pick it up. I notice that something is written in cursive on the back.
HALEY HALLIWELL. PROM. 2009.
I turn the photo over in my hands. Staring back at me is a pretty girl.
Really pretty.
She looks young. Maybe eighteen. Long blonde hair that’s curled around her shoulders. She’s wearing a stunning pink dress that goes to her ankles, and she has silver heels on her feet.
And she’s wearing a huge, bright beaming smile on her face, her eyes shining with happiness.
It’s a smile of adoration…of love. And it was clearly meant for whomever was standing behind the camera.
Kas.
I know because I recognize the garden she’s standing in.
She was smiling for Kas.
I feel a pang in my chest. A pang called jealousy. I press my hand against it, trying to rub it away.
It’s ridiculous to feel jealous over a photograph, I know. It just bothers me that Kas cared enough about this Haley girl to make her smile…to make her happy.
Whereas with me, he just seems to want to hurt me—over and over again.
Sighing, I go to put the photo back, but then something stops me. And then—I’m not sure exactly why—I find myself pulling my phone from my pocket and snapping a picture of the photo before putting it back where I found it.
Then, I shut the drawer, tuck my phone into my pocket, and continue on with my task of stripping the bed.
Twenty-Four
I’m home alone, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine. The TV’s on, but I’m not really watching it.
Cece’s working late at the salon; she won’t be home until nine p.m.
Seriously, who gets their hair done that late?
Cece said she has lots of women who come in to get their hair done for a night out. I don’t know if I could be bothered. But I guess, if they have a man to get all dolled up for, it might be worth it.
I was supposed to be out with Cooper tonight for that drink, but I canceled. I was going to do the chicken thing—avoid him at work and just text him—but I knew it would be the coward’s way out, and he deserved better than that. I went down to the stables on my lunch break and told him that I couldn’t make it. At first, he thought I just couldn’t make it that night and offered to rearrange. So, I had to tell him the truth. Well, the closest version of the truth that I could give. I told him that I just didn’t think it was a good idea. That I had a lot going on right now, and that I was also still getting over my last relationship.
It wasn’t a total lie. I am still recovering from what Jason did to me—stealing eighteen months of my life and also the prior six months that I spent with him.
And, also, I need to get past these feelings that I have for Kas.
They’ve come on quick and strong and totally out of the blue, but they’re there.
It’s weird to me that I can have feelings for a guy who, half of the time, I have the strong urge to punch in the face.
I didn’t see Kas at all for the rest of the day yesterday. He stayed holed up in his office. The only reason I knew he was in there was because his car was still outside.
I might have checked.
But it was good that I didn’t see him, as I wasn’t in the mood for another argument. And, honestly, we don’t have anything to argue about anymore because whatever was going on between us is done.
I just don’t understand him. Why he’s like he is. I mean, I got the impression that he wanted me when he was kissing me—his erection spoke loud and clear—but then, the next minute, he was pushing me away and running, like his arse had just been lit on fire. At first, I thought it was because he thought I wasn’t good enough for him. But his emphatic reaction to that was genuine.
“I’m not good enough for you, Daisy. You deserve a good man, a better man…and that’s not me.”
He thinks he isn’t good enough for me. He thinks he isn’t a good man.
Why?
“I don’t know how to do this…relationships.”
Why can’t he do relationships?
My thoughts go back to that photograph. The photograph that I have in my phone.
It’s been bugging me all day. I just know this photograph is important to him. The fact that he keeps it in his nightstand drawer beside his bed tells me that.
And the curious part of me wants to know who she is to Kas. Why does he have a seven-year-old photograph of this girl in his nightstand?
Maybe he loved her. Maybe she broke his heart. Maybe she’s why he’s a head case when it comes to women.
But it’s not like I can ask him because then he’d know that I was snooping in his drawer. Technically, I wasn’t. I found it by mistake, but I know what he’d think.
And he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. He doesn’t tell me anything. He’s locked up so tight. I know nothing about him.
I only know his name and where he lives because I work for him. I know how he takes his coffee and that his best friend is Jude. Oh, and he has a horse called Danger, whom he rescued. But that’s it.
Water spilling everywhere, I dash into Kas’s bathroom and grab a towel before jogging back into his room.
Fortunately, the only other thing on the nightstand is the lamp, so cleaning up the spillage isn’t too difficult. I lift the lamp, drying off the base. Then, I wipe down the sides of the nightstand and dry off the water that hit the carpet.
I notice the top drawer is slightly ajar.
Worried water might have gotten inside, I pull it open and dry off the lip of the drawer, eyes checking the contents.
All looks good.
Then, my eyes snag on a photograph that’s tucked down the side.
I pick it up. I notice that something is written in cursive on the back.
HALEY HALLIWELL. PROM. 2009.
I turn the photo over in my hands. Staring back at me is a pretty girl.
Really pretty.
She looks young. Maybe eighteen. Long blonde hair that’s curled around her shoulders. She’s wearing a stunning pink dress that goes to her ankles, and she has silver heels on her feet.
And she’s wearing a huge, bright beaming smile on her face, her eyes shining with happiness.
It’s a smile of adoration…of love. And it was clearly meant for whomever was standing behind the camera.
Kas.
I know because I recognize the garden she’s standing in.
She was smiling for Kas.
I feel a pang in my chest. A pang called jealousy. I press my hand against it, trying to rub it away.
It’s ridiculous to feel jealous over a photograph, I know. It just bothers me that Kas cared enough about this Haley girl to make her smile…to make her happy.
Whereas with me, he just seems to want to hurt me—over and over again.
Sighing, I go to put the photo back, but then something stops me. And then—I’m not sure exactly why—I find myself pulling my phone from my pocket and snapping a picture of the photo before putting it back where I found it.
Then, I shut the drawer, tuck my phone into my pocket, and continue on with my task of stripping the bed.
Twenty-Four
I’m home alone, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine. The TV’s on, but I’m not really watching it.
Cece’s working late at the salon; she won’t be home until nine p.m.
Seriously, who gets their hair done that late?
Cece said she has lots of women who come in to get their hair done for a night out. I don’t know if I could be bothered. But I guess, if they have a man to get all dolled up for, it might be worth it.
I was supposed to be out with Cooper tonight for that drink, but I canceled. I was going to do the chicken thing—avoid him at work and just text him—but I knew it would be the coward’s way out, and he deserved better than that. I went down to the stables on my lunch break and told him that I couldn’t make it. At first, he thought I just couldn’t make it that night and offered to rearrange. So, I had to tell him the truth. Well, the closest version of the truth that I could give. I told him that I just didn’t think it was a good idea. That I had a lot going on right now, and that I was also still getting over my last relationship.
It wasn’t a total lie. I am still recovering from what Jason did to me—stealing eighteen months of my life and also the prior six months that I spent with him.
And, also, I need to get past these feelings that I have for Kas.
They’ve come on quick and strong and totally out of the blue, but they’re there.
It’s weird to me that I can have feelings for a guy who, half of the time, I have the strong urge to punch in the face.
I didn’t see Kas at all for the rest of the day yesterday. He stayed holed up in his office. The only reason I knew he was in there was because his car was still outside.
I might have checked.
But it was good that I didn’t see him, as I wasn’t in the mood for another argument. And, honestly, we don’t have anything to argue about anymore because whatever was going on between us is done.
I just don’t understand him. Why he’s like he is. I mean, I got the impression that he wanted me when he was kissing me—his erection spoke loud and clear—but then, the next minute, he was pushing me away and running, like his arse had just been lit on fire. At first, I thought it was because he thought I wasn’t good enough for him. But his emphatic reaction to that was genuine.
“I’m not good enough for you, Daisy. You deserve a good man, a better man…and that’s not me.”
He thinks he isn’t good enough for me. He thinks he isn’t a good man.
Why?
“I don’t know how to do this…relationships.”
Why can’t he do relationships?
My thoughts go back to that photograph. The photograph that I have in my phone.
It’s been bugging me all day. I just know this photograph is important to him. The fact that he keeps it in his nightstand drawer beside his bed tells me that.
And the curious part of me wants to know who she is to Kas. Why does he have a seven-year-old photograph of this girl in his nightstand?
Maybe he loved her. Maybe she broke his heart. Maybe she’s why he’s a head case when it comes to women.
But it’s not like I can ask him because then he’d know that I was snooping in his drawer. Technically, I wasn’t. I found it by mistake, but I know what he’d think.
And he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. He doesn’t tell me anything. He’s locked up so tight. I know nothing about him.
I only know his name and where he lives because I work for him. I know how he takes his coffee and that his best friend is Jude. Oh, and he has a horse called Danger, whom he rescued. But that’s it.
