My Lonely Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 4) Page 6

  She stops and alters direction as she sees us, her face lighting up. “Noah!” She comes over to me and kisses my cheek. “How lovely to see you.” She turns her bright smile on Abby. “Hello Abby. Is Noah giving you a tour?”

  “Yes, we’ve been building up to it for a few days.” Abby bites her lip as if she’s worried she shouldn’t have referred to my affliction, but Izzy just smiles.

  “How lovely. Hal’s out on call, but Summer is in the vet center.”

  “Summer’s here?” I query.

  “She’s been in this week, just for an hour or so a day,” Izzy says. “You know we can’t keep her away.”

  “All right, thanks. We’ll start there, then, in a minute.” We say goodbye to Izzy, who heads for the break room. “Summer’s my cousin by marriage,” I tell Abby. “She’s not been well. She has cystic fibrosis, and five weeks ago she was hospitalized with a chest infection, and we nearly lost her.”

  “Oh, jeez.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty scary. She’s supposed to have a couple of months off, but I knew we wouldn’t be able to keep her out of the clinic. Come on, let’s say hello to my brother first.” I head across the square to the two men in suits standing by a block of buildings to our right.

  The guys glance at us as we approach, and the eyebrows of the man in the middle rise. “Noah!”

  “Hey.” I shake Leon’s hand.

  He claps me on the arm. “Good to see you out and about.”

  “I’m giving my friend Abby a tour. Abby, this is my brother, Leon, and this is Fitz, our estate manager.”

  They both shake hands with her. I watch a pink bloom spread across her cheeks. That interests me. Why’s she blushing?

  “Good to meet you,” Fitz says. “Hey, Noah, can I catch up with you later about some of the building work?”

  “Absolutely. Two o’clock?”

  “Sounds great—I’ll come up then.”

  We say our farewells, then I gesture to the veterinary center, and we head over there, steering clear of the building site on our right as we cross the square.

  “Are we really friends?” Abby asks me.

  I look at her in surprise. Is that why she blushed? “Of course. Or is that too presumptuous?”

  “No, not at all. I’m just… touched.”

  “I consider you a very good friend, even though we haven’t known each other long. You’d be surprised how much you’ve helped me.”

  She looks at the ground as we pause outside the door, then lifts her gaze to me. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m concentrating on you like you suggested,” I tell her. “That helps.” It’s true. Thinking about Abby is helping me keep a lid on the anxiousness that bubbles away under the surface when I’m out of the house.

  She lifts her gaze to me, and I catch my breath at the look in her brown eyes. For a long moment, our gazes lock, and I can’t tear mine away.

  This isn’t a relationship that can go anywhere, I know that. For a start, I’m not good relationship material. My wife and baby died, and it sent me halfway to being crazy. I don’t leave the house. I couldn’t take a girl out for a meal or to the cinema or away for a weekend to an expensive hotel.

  And anyway, it’s likely it’s only because Abby’s feeling vulnerable and a bit low from the problems she’s had that she’s reacting to the first bit of kindness someone’s shown her. I mustn’t mistake that for a genuine affection. And even if it is, she has a partner, and she’s pregnant. I mustn’t get in the middle of that. For the baby’s sake, she needs to try to make it work with Tom.

  And yet her eyes are filled with longing and sadness. Unable to stop myself, I lift a hand and tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Just that innocent touch is enough to make a tingle run down my spine. Her lips are full and pink. They’d be soft if I pressed mine to them. I haven’t kissed a girl in ten years.

  I loved Lisa—still do—with all my heart, and I’d give anything to have her back. But she’s not coming back. And I’ve missed having a woman of my own. I’ve missed kissing. Missed making love. Suddenly, I long for it so much it makes me ache.

  “Why aren’t you married?” I ask Abby before I think better of it.

  She gives a little shiver from my touch. “Tom doesn’t believe in it.”

  The fucking idiot. I want to walk into her house, thrust the guy up against a wall, and force him to see sense.

  Her eyes glisten. “You make me feel special. Like I’m a snowflake you’ve caught on your hand.”

  “You are special, Abby. Incredibly so. And if he doesn’t realize that, he’s a fool.”

  She swallows hard and rips her gaze away.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. This is inappropriate, and I’m not helping her situation. I have to keep my feelings to myself, or I’m only going to make it harder for her.

  Anxiety rises within me, tying my stomach in a knot. I clamp down on it, determined to keep it under control while I’m with her. I’m showing her around; that’s the only reason for this outing. And the sooner I finish, the sooner I’ll be able to go back home to my quiet living room and my dogs.

  Chapter Eight

  Abigail

  Noah pulls open the door and walks into the veterinary center. I don’t move for a second, still reeling from his words. My heart’s racing, and Peanut gives a celebratory leap inside me.

  Noah likes me. My skin still tingles from where he tucked my hair behind my ear. You are special, Abby. He thinks I’m special.

  And then, as if my positive balloon has been popped with a pin, I deflate. So what? I might not have known him long, but already I can tell there’s no way he’d do anything inappropriate while I was pregnant with another man’s child. While I was living with another man. And neither would I. I’m just starved for affection, and we’re both lonely and hurting. That’s all this is, and I mustn’t be foolish enough to read more into it.

  And yet… I can’t deny the way my heart speeds up when he looks at me. How much I enjoy his company, and how much I adore his gentle, kind nature. But then, again, that’s probably because I’m having trouble with Tom, and I’m just reacting to the first nice guy who’s come along.

  Conscious I can’t wait outside any longer or it’s going to look odd, I push open the door and go inside.

  I’m in a large foyer with seating along one wall for clients, although it’s empty at the moment. The walls are covered with a beautiful mural, with domestic animals like cats, dogs, and guinea pigs, to wild animals like tigers and giraffes, all mixed together. It’s bright, colorful, and exquisitely painted.

  Noah’s talking to a woman in a blue uniform at reception. He glances over, and I pin a smile on my face. “What an amazing mural,” I tell him. “You are so talented.”

  He gives a modest shrug. “There’s a lot of feeling behind it. It had only just been built, and I was proud and excited to get going. Abby, this is Em, one of our amazing veterinary nurses.”

  We say hello, and he gestures with his head for me to follow him. I walk past the stands bearing dog leashes, feeding bowls, and anti-flea tablets, past the heaps of cozy cat and dog beds for sale, and into one of the treatment rooms.

  It has a big stainless-steel table in the center, but there are no animals at present. A tiny, dark-haired woman a few years older than me sits on a stool at a high table, tapping into a computer. As we walk in, she glances up, and a huge smile spreads across her face. I like how everyone’s so pleased to see him. She rises and gives him a big hug. I watch him return it, touched they’re not worried about showing affection in front of people.

  “What are you doing at work?” Noah scolds as they move back. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

  She waves a hand dismissively. “I get bored staying at home. I’m not doing much, anyway. I’m not doing regular clinic hours. Just reorienting myself, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. Zach know you’re here?”

  Her expression turns exasperated. “Yes, and Dad and Bro
ck. Nobody’s going to let me get away with anything.” She rolls her eyes at me as if to say, Men! Then smiles.

  Noah grins and turns to me. “This is my friend, Abby. I’m just giving her a tour of the Ark.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” Summer says, shaking my hand. She glances at my bump. “Doesn’t look as if you have long to go! When are you due?”

  “August the third.”

  “Ooh, not long then. We’ll have to meet up and talk babies.”

  I laugh, genuinely pleased. “That would be great. I haven’t been in the bay long enough to make any friends with children.”

  “Well, mine are growing up now, nine and eleven, but I’m still happy to chat.”

  “You’ll have to come over for lunch one day,” Noah says. “Abby helps out around the house, but she’s finished by twelve.”

  “I’ll definitely do that,” Summer says. “Maybe I’ll bring Izzy and Nix too. Something tells me it won’t be long before there’s more than one pair of tiny feet pattering in the Ark.”

  We smile and say goodbye, and Noah leads us out of the vet center and back across the square.

  “She’s nice,” I say.

  “Summer’s a sweetheart.”

  “Who’s Nix?”

  “Leon’s partner, Nicola. She works here, too. And—oh!” Noah stops in surprise as we exit the building. In front of us, a couple of people are walking across the square. The guy is young and cute, and has his arm slung around the shoulders of the pretty brown-haired woman next to him.

  “Albie!” Noah walks quickly up to them and the two men exchange a big bear hug. “I didn’t think you were getting back for a few days,” Noah says, pulling back, clearly thrilled to see him.

  “We were both eager to get back to the Ark,” Albie says. “We missed it.”

  His words please Noah; I can see it. He turns to me with bright eyes and says, “This is one of my cousins, Summer’s brother, and his partner, Remy. They’ve just come back from a holiday in France. Albie, this is Abby, a friend of mine.”

  We all say hello and shake hands. I feel a touch emotional at being part of this huge family, even if I am on the fringes.

  “Did you have a nice time away?” Noah asks.

  “It was good to visit,” Remy says in a strong French accent. “But I am very pleased to be back in New Zealand.” She pronounces it New Zillan’, the way Kiwis do, which makes us all laugh.

  “Can we come and see you later?” Albie asks. “I’d love to catch up about the new center.”

  “Of course. I’m seeing Fitz at two. After that?”

  “Three p.m.?”

  “Brilliant. I’ll see you then.”

  We say goodbye and head across the square.

  “You’re fond of him,” I observe.

  “Very,” Noah says. “He’s a good lad with a heart of gold, and Remy is perfect for him.”

  “You’re like Cupid, aren’t you?” I ask suspiciously. “You enjoy pairing everyone up.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe. It’s good to see everyone happy.”

  “What about you?” We stop and pause outside the office block. Clouds scud across the sky, and a drop of rain lands on my cheek. “Don’t you deserve to be happy, too?”

  He looks away, across the valley with its rolling green fields and forested peaks. “I had my chance at happiness. I’m content to help others where I can, now.”

  He doesn’t look at me again. He opens the door and goes inside, and I follow him in.

  Over the next fifteen minutes or so, he introduces me to a heap of other people. I meet Nix and the rest of the office staff, then he takes me to the grooming center where I meet Hal’s sister, Jules, then to the rehoming center where I meet Ryan, and then out and across to the petting farm where I meet Albie’s sister, Poppy. By the end I’m a whirl of names and relationships, and as we walk back across the fields to Noah’s house, I decide it’s impossible to disentangle them in my mind.

  The most important thing is that he was able to show me around. After our little exchange outside the veterinary center, he’s withdrawn a little from me, and I saw his hands shaking when he opened the door, so I know his anxiety is still there beneath the surface like a riptide, waiting to drag him under. I think our chat might have made it worse, unfortunately. But we talk politely as we walk back, and it’s not long before we reach his house.

  “Thank you for a lovely day,” I say as we go inside. I collect up the bag with the food and pick up my car keys.

  “You’re very welcome. And thank you for encouraging me. I do appreciate it.”

  We pause by the door. I hug the bag to my chest, over my bump. “Well, I’ll see you Monday, I guess.”

  He nods and smiles. “I hope you have a good weekend.”

  “And I hope I haven’t tired you out too much.”

  His smile widens. Our gazes meet, and my heart gives that characteristic leap I’m getting used to when he looks at me.

  Then his gaze drops to my bump, as if he’s reminding himself that I’m pregnant by another man. “Take care of Peanut,” he says softly.

  I nod. “See you Monday.” I head out of the house to my car and hear him close the door behind me.

  *

  Another week goes by, and my bump gets bigger. Noah and I still have our coffee and a chat when I finish work, but we keep our talk lighthearted and steer away from anything deep. I don’t mind; I find him restful, and he makes me laugh. Which is nice, because there isn’t a lot of laughter in my life at the moment.

  Tom is in a strange mood, distracted, monosyllabic, withdrawn, and he goes out several times in the week, leaving me to my own devices.

  The following Saturday I walk along the beach and collect some shells, thinking that I can make my own mobile for Peanut’s room, and paint it bright colors. I wander through the charity shops, knowing I can’t keep putting off getting stuff for the baby because it could come early and then I’d be completely stuck, so I buy a couple of bits of clothing, a baby carrier that looks brand new, and a set of feeding bottles. I intend to breastfeed, but it makes sense to keep a set, in case I have any trouble, or want to express. I’ll sterilize them thoroughly, and they’ll be good as new. My last little treat is a pair of knitting needles and some white wool. I love knitting, and I decide to knit Peanut an outfit. It’ll give me something to do, and it’ll be another piece of clothing for him or her to wear.

  My gaze falls on a good-as-new pram. It’s beautiful; navy blue with white piping, the frame shiny and rust-free. Someone’s taken care of this. I run my fingers over the waterproof lining of the interior, decorated with tiny yellow ducks. Unfortunately, I don’t have the money for it. The only money I do have is in a separate bank account, sitting there ready for me to start up The Mad Batter once the baby’s born. It’s the only money we had left after we sold our house and paid off the bank, and it’s not much, but it should get me back on my feet. For the first time, I’m tempted to draw some of it out to buy the pram. But I promised myself I wouldn’t. I need to be able to make money, and if I spend that, I won’t be able to start the business. I’ll have to find a job, and in the current economic climate, nothing’s certain. So I push the idea away.

  I’ve spent nearly all my spare cash. I have enough for the next two week’s rent squirrelled away. So I call in at the supermarket on the way home and spend my last twenty dollars on food. I buy mostly from the store’s economy range—packets of rice and pasta, tins of tomatoes and cheap tuna, baked beans, the cheapest loaves of bread. The shepherd’s pies I made the other day were so nice that I treat myself to a bag of potatoes and a packet of economy minced beef; I won’t have all the herbs that Noah has to make it super interesting, but I’ll be able to make half a dozen meals out of it.

  I get home, starting to feel tired, and put it all away. Tom’s still out; I have no idea where, and I refuse to ring him and ask him. Maybe he’s found work. I doubt it, but miracles do happen.

  I open the box of muffins Noah gave
me. There are two left. Annoyed at Tom, I eat them both with a cup of tea while I watch a movie. Well, I’m supposed to be eating for two. No doubt he’s managed to wheedle himself a pie from a mate. The movie’s not very good, but we don’t have Netflix and can only choose from the free channels, so there’s not a lot of choice. I fall into a doze on the sofa, as the light slowly fades.

  When I wake up, it’s dark, the only light from the reality show on TV. I get up, wondering if Tom woke me by coming in. But the house is cold and empty. Tired and dispirited, I lock up and go to bed, wrapping myself in the duvet to try to keep warm. Longingly, I think of Noah’s huge gas fire, and the conservatory that seems to trap the sun, even in winter. The whole house is warm; I think he has solar panels on the roof facing the Pacific.

  You are special, Abby. Incredibly so. And if he doesn’t realize that, he’s a fool.

  I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

  *

  Tom doesn’t come home Sunday. When I get up, I finally give in and call him a few times, but it goes to his voicemail. I don’t know whether to be anxious or annoyed.

  I don’t want this. When he eventually comes back, we’re going to have to talk about how he’s been incommunicado, because what if I needed him, if the baby started coming? He’s got to do better than this. But I don’t want the argument, the recriminations. He’ll somehow twist it into being my fault, and I don’t have the strength to fight him.

  When I was younger, we fought a lot, and I gave as good as I got, but he always won in the end. He’s smarter than me and could always find a way to turn the argument against me, until I couldn’t even remember what we were quarreling about in the first place.

  I go out for a walk, refusing to wait in for him, but spend the hour worrying he’s come back, so in the end I return. The house is still empty.

  I make the shepherd’s pie, for something to do, let the mince and potato cool a little, then put it into six plastic containers. I’ll freeze them later. I look in the cupboards, wishing I had the ingredients to make a cake. I’d love to spend time icing it, making flowers, piping patterns. I’ll be able to make Peanut birthday cakes each year.