Nate glanced up the table to where Carrie sat. She looked like she was listening courteously to whatever dull university story Graeme was telling, but Nate was pretty sure her attention was actually engaged farther away–eavesdropping on him and Anna. Maybe he could win back a few brownie points. “Actually, everyone here thinks Carrie’s doing a really good job.”
Anna looked skeptical. “There’s an awful lot to do to bring the inn up to scratch, though.” She gazed around the drawing room, at the shelves of tatty books and faded wallpaper, as if cataloguing errors.
“She’s made a really good start,” Nate said, not wanting to acknowledge how much there still was to do. “And everyone here is very supportive of her.”
Carrie was actually leaning back a little now, Nate could see. No way she wasn’t listening.
Anna, on the other hand, leaned forward across her still half full plate. “But, really. You can be honest with me. Do you truly think she has what it takes?”
Nate gritted his teeth. This had gone far enough. “I think she has more than what it takes. But I think her job would be a lot easier if she didn’t have you on her back trying to undermine her and sabotage everything she does.” He kept his voice low and even, but from the way Carrie’s head whipped ’round, he suspected he hadn’t been quite as quiet as he’d thought.
Anna sucked her breath in through her teeth, and sat back in her chair. “Well, from your reaction, I can see Carrie doesn’t think she’s coping so well. Especially if a little thing like having her ex-boss on site is causing her to exhibit so much paranoia.”
She looked pleased at the concept, and Nate realized that perhaps he’d misjudged this conversation entirely.
Chapter 13
By the time they’d reached the desserts, Carrie had almost gotten over Nate’s blow-up at Anna. And, she figured, having to sit opposite her ex-boss’s knowing smirk for the rest of the evening was probably punishment enough.
She still had some other outstanding issues to discuss, however.
So when the rehearsal dinner party moved to the bar for brandies, liqueurs and sneaky cigars on the terrace, Carrie kept her eye on Nate, and when she saw him slip out the terrace doors, she followed.
She found him, farther down the terrace from the illicit smokers, leaning against the terrace rail just outside the darkened dining room. Opposite the door she’d opened the night before and seen him...
Well. She’d known Izzie couldn’t keep a secret.
“So, I guess we missed our talk again,” he said, as she drew near, and Carrie could hear the forced nature of the nonchalance in his voice.
She stepped up to stand beside him, arms wrapped around her middle against the biting December air, and they both stared at their dim reflections in the glass doors. “Well, I stopped by,” she said, and felt his body tense beside her. “You seemed a little busy.”
“Carrie, it wasn’t what it looked like.” Nate twisted his body to face her, and Carrie made a real effort not to inch away.
“You know how many time men have used that sentence over the centuries?”
Nate winced, and she sighed. She had too much going on to care about this. She needed to be focusing on the wedding.
“Okay, then. Tell me what it was.”
“It was my ex-girlfriend, Mel. The one I went to London to see?”
“Not sure exactly how that’s supposed to make me feel better,” Carrie said, refusing to take any pleasure in the fact he’d still called her his ex.
“I went down there to pitch her a TV program,” Nate ploughed on. “She came up here to tell me it’s been given the go ahead.”
“And the kissing was...” Carrie said, because she couldn’t say You’re leaving? without sounding endlessly needy.
Nate sighed, and dropped back to lean against the rail. “Apparently I was unclear about my intentions when I left London the first time. And she didn’t really believe me the second time.”
“Does she believe you now?” Carrie snuck a glance sideways at him. Nate had a funny half smile on his face, and was staring down at the no-longer-rotting wood at his feet.
“She knows I’m in love with you,” Nate said. “I think that was quite obvious.”
“Oh.” The night breezes were very loud tonight, Carrie thought, as they rushed past her, carrying with them the chatter of the cigar smokers upwind and the rustle of the leaves from the woods beyond, and the echo of Nate saying ‘love’ again and again and again.
“Don’t you want to know about the show?” he asked, turning to face her again.
“Not really,” Carrie said, because if he loved her, then why was he leaving?
Nate snuck a hand ’round to the back of her neck and angled her head so she had no choice but to look at him. His fingers were cool in the night air, and they sent a shiver across her shoulders. “Trust me. You really do.”
Carrie swallowed. “Then tell me.”
“Mel wanted me on board for a new TV show she’s developing. She promised that this time, there wouldn’t be any tiny city gardens. It would be a proper garden development project.”
Carrie nodded, hoping he couldn’t see the disappointment in her face. He met her gaze, and kept his fingers firm on the back of her neck as he said, “I told her I’m needed here.”
Carrie let out a long breath, hearing for the first time what he was really saying. He wasn’t leaving her.
Nate smiled. “But I suggested the gardens at the Avalon were the perfect project. They could film me developing the cutting garden and the vegetable patch. Everything.”
“And this would, presumably, pay you a handsome fee,” Carrie said, dipping her head so he had to let her go.
Nate shook his head. “I already have a job. Here. The program would pay the Avalon Inn. After all, it’s the inn’s gardens that’ll be the star of the show.”
Carrie stayed quiet for a long moment as she processed that. “I still think I’m missing something here.”
“We can hammer out the details of what you want to include and whether the inn features at all once the wedding’s over,” Nate said.
Carrie gave a slow nod. “It could be good publicity, I suppose.”
“The best.” Nate tipped his head to one side. “You should think about it. No need to make a decision until after the wedding. And I have one or two conditions of my own to factor in.”
“I’m sure you do,” Carrie said drily, wondering if they would be of the greenhouse or sex persuasion.
“But I hope that at least answers all your questions.” Nate was leaning a little closer now, and it would be so very easy to kiss him.
But there was still another question to ask. “All but one.”
“Anything.” Nate grinned at her. “Whatever you want.”
/> Carrie smiled warmly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were the boy on the terrace, all those years ago?”
Nate winced, but before he could reply, there was a crash of breaking glass and a shout from the other end of the terrace.
“Come on,” Carrie said. “You can help me shift this lot off to bed while you come up with an acceptable answer.”
After all, she’d waited half her life. No point rushing the man now.
* * * *
Nate was still thinking about his answer as they shepherded Ruth’s father out of the bar chair where he’d fallen asleep and toward the garland-wrapped stairs, and as Izzie phoned around for taxis to take guests not staying at the inn to their hotel rooms down in the village. On the one hand, the answer was easy. It had been the best kiss of his life, until the night Carrie arrived at the Avalon again. But it was a long time ago, and his ego couldn’t take it if she didn’t remember him. What if it had been utterly unmemorable for her?
But he had a feeling Carrie wouldn’t take that for an answer. And he knew there were deeper reasons.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full there, Carrie.” Anna’s voice had an edge under the amusement. Nate turned to see her standing by the reception desk, coat on and bag at her feet, and experienced an intense feeling of satisfaction that she wouldn’t be spending the night under the Avalon roof.
“All part of the service, Anna,” Carrie said, shifting Patrick Archer’s arm around her shoulders. Nate tried to take more of the man’s weight, but the guy had a lot to go around. “You know that.”
“Absolutely,” Anna said, making no effort at all to help them. “Here’s hoping everything goes just as smoothly tomorrow.”
Carrie didn’t answer that, which Nate thought was a good move. But when they finally got Patrick up the stairs to the landing, she said, “Anna’s planning something. I just don’t know what.”
She was probably right, Nate realized. Which meant that tomorrow might be very interesting indeed. Still, “Nothing you can do about it tonight. She’s in a taxi on her way to the Arundel Hotel by now.”
“I suppose.” Carrie looked up at him, her expression still uncertain. Then she glanced away. “Anyway, I think I can manage from here. You should get to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”