Waving an imperious hand towards him, Violet perched on the edge of a stool by the counter and waited. Feeling the heat of embarrassment in his cheeks, Tom grabbed the last of his things from the table and headed for the exit. Violet Huntingdon-Cross might be used to this sort of exposure, but he certainly wasn’t.
‘No questions? Oh, what a shame. I suppose we’d better be on our way, then.’ Violet hopped down and followed him out into the arrivals hall.
‘I suppose I deserved that,’ he muttered as she held the door of the terminal open for him. He had laughed first. But she’d been over an hour and a half late to collect him. So the sleep deprivation was at least partly her fault, right?
‘I suppose you did,’ she replied. ‘And I’m very sorry for being late to collect you. Rose gave me the wrong flight times.’
Damn. There went that argument.
‘This is where you apologise to me for humiliating me in front of a crowd of people,’ Violet prompted, and Tom raised his eyebrows.
‘Me? Trust me, sweetheart, you did the humiliating all by yourself.’ As if a performance of that sort was second nature to her. Which, judging by the sex tape, it might well be. He’d heard that Violet had calmed down in more recent years, but maybe the family had just got better at hiding her exploits from the media.
Her whole face flushed bright red at his words, and she pushed past him as they left the terminal. ‘I’m parked in the short stay car park,’ she called back over his shoulder.
He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear her muttered words as she strode off towards the car, but he did. ‘Hopefully not as short as your stay with us, though.’
Tom allowed himself a smile. Violet Huntingdon-Cross was definitely a worthy interview subject. And if he could get some new or hidden scandals on the eldest family wild child to help sell his book proposal, well, he’d be an idiot not to. Right?
CHAPTER THREE
VIOLET’S HANDS WERE still shaking as she tried to get the key into the ignition. At the back of the car, Tom was struggling to open the boot for his cases, but she had no intention of helping. Not least because the way her body was trembling meant she’d probably be even worse at it than him.
What on earth had possessed her? Eight years of best behaviour, of keeping her head down, of politely ignoring all the comments and jokes—all gone in one moment of frustration and humiliation in an airport coffee shop.
It had been his laugh, she decided, as the key finally slid home. It had made it so abundantly clear that she wasn’t a real person to him, just a hilarious anecdote. One she had probably now ensured he would be dining out on for all time.
She was used to being seen as a public figure more than herself. She was always Rick and Sherry’s daughter first, and often Rose or Daisy’s sister before she was ever a person in her own right. Except when she was the Sex Tape Twin. And, quite honestly, she’d rather be nobody than that.
Except that was all she ever seemed to be to anyone outside her own family. And God, was she sick of it.
The car boot slammed shut; Tom must have managed to stow his cases away. Any moment now he’d slide into the passenger seat beside her and they’d have to make polite conversation all the way home. That, or sit in frosty silence. Violet wasn’t sure which would be worse.
She sighed. Yes, she was. Silence would be worse. Because only her dad had any idea how long Thomas Buckley would be staying at their house, and she couldn’t simply send him to Coventry indefinitely. This wasn’t boarding school; it was real life. And somehow that had turned out to be even more confining and stifling than the strict Catholic school they’d all been sent to.
She was a grown-up now. The mistakes of her youth were supposed to be in the past. She was more than the stories people told about her. Which meant sucking it up and making nice with the offensive American music journalist who would be writing some sort of tell-all about her family and their life any time now. And hoping he’d forget what a disaster this whole night had been.
It was like her dad had said, back when That Tape had first hit the internet and suddenly her sex face was splashed all over magazines and newspapers everywhere. He’d left the rest of the band in some hotel somewhere, mid-tour, and come home to check on her. While she’d lain sobbing on her bed, he’d rubbed her back and told her, ‘At least you know now, honey. Not everyone out there wants what’s best for you. And only you can decide who to trust.’
Well. There was an easy answer to that one, Violet had found. Don’t trust anyone—except family.
Will had been an exception to the rule, and a hard-won one at that. But it helped that he’d only ever been friend material. She wouldn’t trust even her best friend with her whole heart. Not like Rose had done.
The passenger door opened and Violet sucked in a breath before plastering on a smile. ‘All okay?’
Tom gave her a slightly wary look, as if uncertain whether she might just drive off with him half in and half out of the car. She couldn’t really blame him; she hadn’t been exactly consistent since they’d met.
Time to start mending fences before he started writing articles.
‘Fine.’ Tom slid into the seat beside her. ‘And, uh, you?’
She forced her smile to brighten further. ‘Just dandy.’
‘Right. And are you always prone to such extreme mood swings?’
Oh, God, he was probably thinking that she was on drugs, or bipolar, or something else that would make a good story. This was not going well.
Violet sighed. Time to try honesty. ‘Okay, look. We got off to a rotten start here, I know. But Dad wants you staying with us, working with him, and Dad doesn’t change his mind once it’s made up. So I just have to suck it up and get on with things, right? And since I don’t particularly want to spend the next however many
weeks avoiding you or trading insults on sight, I figure the easiest thing is to pretend the last half an hour didn’t happen. Okay?’ Partial honesty, anyway. She didn’t need to mention—
‘Plus you don’t want me to tell the story of this evening in any future articles or books?’
Damn. ‘Well, do you blame me?’
Tom was quiet so long that she had to glance over to check that he hadn’t fallen asleep. When she looked, he was holding out his hand.
Eyebrows raised, she took it, biting her lip at the slight tingle she felt at his skin against hers. For heaven’s sake, it was a handshake! Had it really been so long since someone she wasn’t related to by blood or marriage had touched her that her body had forgotten what it felt like?
‘I’m Tom Buckley,’ he said with a half smile. ‘Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming to pick me up.’
‘Violet Huntingdon-Cross. Sorry I was an hour and a half late.’
He chuckled. ‘Let’s just blame Rose for everything, yeah?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last twenty-seven years,’ Violet said, and sighed. ‘Sadly, it never seems to stick.’
At Tom’s laugh, she slipped the car into gear and pulled out of the parking space. ‘Come on. Let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired after your long journey.’
‘Exhausted,’ Tom admitted, and when she looked she could see the dark circles under his eyes, even in the poor lighting of the airport car park. ‘That’s kind of my excuse, actually. For, well, everything. Sleep deprivation. It’s been a hell of a week.’