He grinned, just because she thought he needed her. Hell, he did need her. The realization was like a sucker punch to the gut. Damn, what had happened to him? “I’ll come over. We can order out some food.” She didn’t answer right away. “Come on,” he urged. “We need to spend time together to prove that we are a couple. I’ll spring for whatever food you want.”
“All right,” she finally said. “I get off at five. You can come over at seven.”
“See you then,” he said, ringing off before she could change her mind. After running from her last night, he was going to run to her tonight and the thought was far more exciting than going to any club.
Jarred arrived right at seven, with flowers and a few bottles of a nice red wine, feeling like a teen going out on his first date. The flowers had been a last-minute thought, thinking that Kinsley would probably like them. What woman didn’t? The address that she had provided in her note was an older building, one of the charming sections of London that still had some of the original structures, far removed from the modern buildings near the heart of the city. No wonder she wanted to stay in this area.
Walking up to the building, he located the lift and found himself in front of her door in no time, nerves mounting inside. His hands were bloody shaking. What was wrong with him? Disgusted with himself, he knocked on the door. It opened a moment later and Kinsley was standing before him, dressed in a simple T-shirt and leggings, her hair down around her shoulders.
“Hey,” she said, giving him a little wave.
“Hey yourself,” he said, presenting her with the flowers. “I got these for you.”
“They are beautiful,” she said softly, taking them from him and inhaling their scent. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” Jarred responded, a grin on his face. The flowers had been a good call. “I brought wine too.”
“Come in then,” she said, stepping aside to let him pass. He briefly thought of kissing her, thinking that was what couples did. But they weren’t really a couple and he wasn’t sure how she would react. So instead, he just walked in, surprised by the colorful scene before him.
“I, welcome to my flat,” she said behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. “I know it’s vastly different from yours.”
Jarred took in the brightly colored couch and chair, the mismatched furniture that somehow worked in the space and found that he liked here far better than the sterile feel of his father’s company flat. He could see her personality in her living space. No wonder she wanted to save the place. “I like it,” he said, turning toward her. She blushed and turned to the kitchen, taking a pitcher and arranging the flowers in it before setting them on the island.
“So your father didn’t have a chance to talk to me today,” she said as he set the wine on the counter. “He got wrapped up in some business issue and was out of the office the rest of the afternoon.”
“That’s good,” Jarred replied. “It’ll give us a chance to concoct a story for tomorrow. You blew him away Kinsley. He’s infatuated with you.”
She bit her lip and busied herself pulling down some wine glasses from the cabinet. Jarred opened the wine and poured them both a healthy glass, holding it up for a toast. “To bright futures,” he said. She clinked her glass against his and then took a large swallow.
“This is good,” she said. “Good choice. I hope it wasn’t too expensive.”
He grinned, knowing now not to tell her exactly how much the wine cost. He doubted a few hundred pounds broke the bank, but it would embarrass Kinsley and that wasn’t his intention. She took another sip before setting her glass on the island. “So, what’s going to be our story?”
Jarred leaned against the island, his glass in his hands. “I don’t know. Tell me about your dream wedding.”
“Dream wedding?” she echoed, her eyes widening in surprise.
He nodded, knowing all women had planned out their entire future when they were, like, ten. “You know, what would you want it to look like?”
She took another healthy swallow of the wine, her brows knitting together. “I, wow, I don’t know if I’ve thought about it.”
Jarred laughed. “Surely you have thought about it. I thought all women had the shit like written down somewhere.”
Kinsley laughed, her cheeks flushing from either his musings or the wine, he couldn’t tell. “I’ve never written it down. I guess I just always thought it would fall into place. I really don’t care about the wedding; it’s more about the person.”
As soon as she said it, she looked away. Jarred cleared his throat, feeling a bit like an ass for asking. He knew he wasn’t ideal marriage material. Susan had been clear with him on that. He had pushed Kinsley into this, playing on her weakness, her need, and now he was trying to pry into her life.
“Well,” she finally said, her glass now empty. “What about you? Have you ever thought about marriage?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she covered it, dawning horror on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean anything.”
Jarred held up his hand. “It’s fine, really,” he said, vaguely uncomfortable with the mention of his failed engagement. After last night, he was kind of glad his relationship with Susan had ended like it had. “I’m good with it.”
Kinsley reached over and grabbed the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass. “I have to say, she’s not your type.”
Intrigued, Jarred drained his glass and poured the rest of the bottle in his glass. “What’s my type Kinsley?”
She took a large swallow. “I don’t know. Someone outgoing, able to put up with you.”
Jarred laughed, thinking that she had danced around the question. She was his type currently; she just didn’t know it. What he thought was going to be an uptight, hard assed woman had turned into someone he enjoyed spending time with. After all, he was here tonight, with a beautiful, lively woman he suddenly couldn’t get enough of. “Well I don’t need much then.”
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked softly, her fingers playing with the stem of her glass and avoiding his gaze.
Jarred swallowed, a thousand thoughts of what her question could be running through his mind. “Sure.”
“Why do you hate your father so much?”
The absolute worst fucking question she could ask. He would give her his bank account number over answering that question. “Why do you want to know?” he asked abruptly.
She looked at him then, her expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry into your life like this. I just, I can’t understand what has driven this rift between the two of you.”
“I-I never live up to his expectations,” Jarred finally said, the swell of disappointment building in his veins. He never did. No matter what he got involved in or the grades he made in school, nothing was enough to satisfy his over-achieving father. More than once, Jarred had heard how he’d screwed up in his lifetime.
One day in particular stood out, when he’d overheard his father telling one of the board executives that his son would never amount to anything. “A loser,” he’d called Jarred, laughter in his voice. “That’s all he will ever be.” The words had stung more than Jarred had anticipated. While he wasn’t the son he knew his father wanted him to be, he wasn’t a fucking loser either. After that, he just quit giving a shit about what his father thought of him. However, he never anticipated his father taking away his source of income and putting him in this situation. Bloody hell it sucked.