A part of her was dying to know, while the realistic part knew he’d never divulge the truth in a million years.
Guys like him didn’t share deep, dark truths. They hid them away beneath a veneer of charm and practised wit.
She should know. Her dad had been the same.
A quick smile and a clever quip for everybody. Loving the world, but not staying put in one place long enough to form any real emotional attachments to anyone.
Including his own daughter.
She’d thought Archer was like that too until she’d seen the way he’d connected with those teenagers on the beach. And Izzy.
He genuinely cared about people, willingly gave of his time expecting nothing in return. That generosity came from within. It wasn’t something you could fake; kids—especially teenagers—picked up on that kind of thing. She had with her dad.
Seeing that side of Archer, giving himself freely to those teens on the beach, had opened her eyes to his deeper facets—the ones he kept hidden. And it had made it pretty darn impossible to resist him.
Even with his complicated family history, why didn’t he want to show that side of himself to them?
‘I’m not around enough to warrant that kind of involvement in the rituals,’ he said.
His jaw was clenched so hard she was surprised she couldn’t hear his teeth grind.
‘I fly in each year, stay a few days, then I’m outta here. Why disrupt their routine?’
‘Maybe because they want you to?’ She kept pushing, her previously undiscovered sadistic side wanting to prod an obvious wound. ‘I know it’s tough on you, after what you told me at the party, but your family light up when you’re around.’
His sceptical glare indicated that he didn’t believe her for a second. ‘Prodigal son syndrome.’
She touched him on the arm. ‘Why do you do that? Pretend your family isn’t important to you?’
‘That’s bull.’ He leaped to his feet as if she’d electrocuted him. ‘They know how I feel about them.’
‘Do they?’
She stood, wanting to see his reaction when she continued peppering him with bombshells. ‘From what I’ve seen, Travis hangs on your every word, Tom looks out for you, and your folks think you walk on water rather than surf it.’
She reached for him, but he stepped away on the pretext of shutting a window, when in fact he was shutting her out.
‘It’s like they’re vying for your attention and you don’t want any of it.’
A tiny vein pulsed just below his ear, in the spot she loved to kiss. By his formidable glower, kissing was the last thing on his mind.
‘You’ve met my family only a few times. A few more than any other woman I’ve known. What gives you the right to judge when you don’t know them?’
Or me. The words hung unsaid between them and she resisted the urge to rub her chest where his barb had hit.
Because it was true.
She didn’t really know him.
They’d connected for a brief seven days in Capri, but that had been mostly physical—as articulated by the man himself when he’d walked away.
As for their time together here... She’d fallen into the old trap of believing physical closeness implied intimacy, when in fact Archer didn’t want to share anything with her. Not the stuff that mattered.
She wanted him to open up to her about what had happened earlier today to make him retreat—wanted him to trust her enough to do it. She’d thought they’d made major inroads in their developing relationship when he’d divulged the truth about his family at the party.
She’d been wrong.
For all she knew nothing had happened with his family during that tour this morning and he was deliberately closing off to her.
Maybe she’d been getting too close, and this was his way of cluing her in that come Christmas Day, when he dropped her home, they were finished.
Well, newsflash, surfer boy. She already knew they were over, but this time she wouldn’t walk away with a whimper.
‘So I’m supposed to be grateful you let me meet your family?’ She slow clapped. ‘Well done. You took the monumental step of letting a woman get closer than your bathrobe and a kiss on the cheek on her way out the next morning.’
Stricken, he paled, staring at her as if she’d morphed into a monster, and she knew she’d gone too far.
He was so infuriating, standing there in his emotional cocoon, holding everyone at bay when all they wanted to do was love him.
Her included.
Damn, she loved him.
Fine time to realise it. Her shock mirrored his.
‘Sorry, that was way out of line. I’m just so mad at you for—’
‘What, Callie? For walking away from you in Capri? For blackmailing you into being my date for the wedding? For sleeping with you again?’ Anger radiated off him like a nuclear cloud. ‘You’ve been mad at me since the day I stepped into your office.’
He jabbed a thumb at his chest. ‘You’ve done such a great job of dumping home truths on me, why don’t you take a look at yourself?’ He took a step towards her, the air crackling with tension. ‘Go on—admit it. You’re still mad as hell for something that happened eight freaking years ago.’
She shook her head, close to tears. ‘It’s not that...’
He gripped her upper arms. ‘Then tell me why you’re so mad.’
She could have lied, could have made up some lame story, but that was what she’d done in Capri. Put on a brave face and lied when he made light of their week together.
Not this time.
‘I’m mad at a lot of things, most of them beyond my control, but I’m mostly mad at myself.’
Confusion creased his brow and his grip on her arms eased now he was convinced this crazy woman wouldn’t slug him. ‘Why?’
‘For being a hypocrite. For making light of what we share now, for calling it a fling and pretending I’m happy with it.’
Archer stiffened as she’d expected when she confronted him with the truth.
‘I’m mad I let you walk away in Capri belittling what we’d had. I’m mad at you for not trusting me enough to tell me what’s going on with you now. And most of all I’m mad as hell you’re going to do the same thing this time around.’
Shock slashed
