If Betsy had been expecting things to change as a result of the toe-curling, body tingling kiss with her boss she was sorely mistaken.
The imposing presence of Nicholas Davenport had become strangely absent. It had started from the moment they were riding in the car home together from the Giannopoulos dinner. With her lips swollen from the effects of his powerful kiss and her body still alive with the feel of his touch he had put as much space between them as possible. The two children sat between them in the back of the limo acting as a buffer. And he had not looked at her. His eyes had stared resolutely at anything but her.
The blonde rubbed a tired hand down her face and stumbled into the kitchen, her body carrying her towards the kettle on instinct. Flicking the switch to set the water to boil, Betsy allowed a loud sigh to escape her lips.
Even three weeks later the man was distant. When she had sat across from him at the dinner table just the evening before his eyes would not hold hers for more than a moment. They skirted away almost as if it was a struggle to hold on to her gaze. Though it hurt to admit it, there was no denying the truth that Nicholas was avoiding her. Betsy could feel the leaden weight of it hanging around her shoulders each and every day.
And yet she couldn't blame him. Nothing was going to change over one kiss. What did they really know about each other? And it was all pretend. He hadn't wanted to kiss her. He had only wanted to prove to the Giannopoulos family that he was a reliable and capable man and he had clearly done that. Over the past two weeks the man had not gone more than half an hour without the phone attached to his hand. Business was going well. She had done what he needed her to do. So why did it feel to empty?
"I should be happy," Betsy muttered to herself, pressing her hands against the countertop and bowing her head.
Closing her eyes, she drew in a few steadying breaths. Even though she knew it was for the best it didn't stop the ache left behind by the diminishing hope.
The shuffle of feet against the floor drew her back to the present. The children were never that quiet and Mrs Reed was out shopping which mean that is could only be Nicholas.
Pushing up on to her tiptoes, Betsy reached up above her head for the mugs which had been inconveniently placed on one of the highest shelf. Her fingers scrambled to hook through the handle, her finger brushing against the cool porcelain.
And then there was warmth. A strong hard body brushed against her back as Nick stretched out his hand above her head and easily snagged two mugs off of the shelf. He placed them on them on the countertop before her, his skin brushing against the exposed flesh of her arms as he did so.
Betsy shivered. It was an innocent, casual brush of skin against skin and yet it caused a reaction within her body. She breathed in deep to draw in the seductive scent of his cologne. This was the closest Nicholas had been to her in several weeks. Tensing, Betsy tried not to be affected by him. She tried to close of that part of herself which was attracted to him but there was no denying the zing of electricity as is raced through her veins. It was thrilling.
Still, despite her weakness for anything named Davenport, she schooled her features. When he finally stepped away a few seconds later her face showed no sign of the turmoil within. Her face was the epitome of cool politeness. Her lips pulled up into a small smile and her eyes met his for a second before he looked away.
"Good morning Mr Davenport," she greeted amiably.
She looked everywhere but at his face as she spoke. Betsy could feel his gaze roving over her form which made her remember her attire. A long t-shirt which had belonged to her Ex-Husband dwarfed her bod and a small pair of shorts clung to her curvy behind which left her legs exposed to the examination of his assessing stare. It had been comfortable sleep attire just a few moments before but now it felt inappropriate.
"Morning Elizabeth," he responded blandly.
Betsy nodded her head before turning her attention to the tea. It was easier to remain cool under his attentions when she had something to distract her mind. So she prepared the drinks. One tea bag for her cup and a spoonful of overpriced coffee shovelled into his. A teaspoon of sugar into her mug but nothing in Nick's because the man didn't like sweet coffee. He enjoyed it dark and bitter.
"So what are you planning to do with your day off?" Nick asked, his voice startling Betsy from her reverie.
Sucking in a sharp breath at the sound of his voice, Betsy glanced over her shoulder at the man and tried not to behave like a teenager with her first crush.
"Day off?" She queried breathlessly.
"Yes, tomorrow is the twenty sixth? You asked for it off when you started." Nick stated. His arms were folded across his chest as he looked down at her.
Blinking rapidly, it took a few moments for the words to sink in. Betsy's face blanched. She held out a hand to steady herself against the counter as her legs felt like jelly and her head felt as if it was filled with cotton wool. It took all of her concentration to remain upright.
"Are you okay?" Nick asked, wrapping his hand around her arm.
Shaking off his hand, Betsy turned away from his so that he would not be able to see her face. "I'm fine."
Keeping her back to him, the blonde picked up the boiling kettle and started to pour water into the mugs but her hand shook so much half of the scalding hot water sloshed over the sides of the cup and onto the countertop. Dropping the kettle back on to its cradle, Betsy sighed loudly.
How could she have forgotten the date? The past few weeks had been nothing but a blur. And yet she had been so wrapped up with the davenport children and the memories of her kiss with Nick that she had been able to ignore its approach.
"You're not okay." Nick stated, placing a hand on each shoulder and turning her around.
Betsy fought his hold but it was feeble and after just a few seconds she slumped into his arms so that he was forced to tighten his grip on her body to prevent her from falling onto the floor.
"No, I'm not." She admitted quietly, hoping that Nick wouldn't hear her. There was little chance of that with no children to distract him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Nick asked, pulling her pliable form into the safety of his body and holding her tight.
Betsy shook her head. "No. I don't want to talk about it." She stated abruptly, as she absorbed his strength and held it close like a safety net.
They stood there in silence for a few long seconds but when the arms started to loosen around her, Betsy wrapped her hands into the fabric of his shirt and begged, "Please don't let go. Please just hold me. I just need you to hold me."
Closing her eyes, Betsy refused to look up at him. She hated that he was seeing her weak. She hated even more that she was clinging on to him – begging him to hold her. She could feel the penetrating burn of his gaze on the side of her face.
She had no idea how long they stood there in the middle of the kitchen. She felt his phone vibrating against her hip where it was nestled in the pocket of his jeans. Still he held her. So Betsy listened to his heart beat, drew strength from him as she inhaled his scent and drew comfort from the steady rise and fall of his chest.
It felt like home.
She blinked and sucked in a startled breath.
"Is everything okay?" Nick asked once more, allowing his arms to loosen their hold as Betsy pushed against his chest lightly.
"Fine," She replied on instinct before giggling hysterically at the glare that he threw at her. "Honestly, I'm not okay. I'm far from okay but I will be. Tomorrow is going to be a difficult day. I lost someone and I'm still trying to deal with it. Tomorrow would have been their birthday."
Nick nodded his head, his face reflecting his own grief with his turned down mouth and tired eyes. "I understand."
And he did in a way. He had lost his wife – the love of his life. But nothing could ever compare the loss of a child. Not when it happened so suddenly and traumatically. When the only time you got to hold your child was when their life was already extinguishing. But Betsy didn't say those things. To every person their own grief is always the worst – the most painful. It was difficult to imagine someone feeling the pain of loss worse than she did.
A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek in a slow winding trail. Nick's finger caught the solitary drop on his finger. He stood there, watched her for several long moments before leaning forwards and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.
"I'll drive you tomorrow." His lips murmured against her skin.
"What?"
"Tomorrow. I'll drive you." Nick stated in the commanding manner he wielded so well.
Betsy blinked and pushed herself out of his hold until there was no physical contact between the two of them. "I don't need you to drive me."
"I will be driving you. If you react like you did earlier then you will be in no state to drive tomorrow." He straightened up, glaring down at the small woman before him. "To even attempt to drive when you are emotionally overwrought is selfish. You'll be putting yourself and innocent bystanders at risk. Is that what you want on your conscience?"
Opening and closing her mouth several times, Betsy turned her face away from him so that Nick could not see her face. She didn't have to look at him to know he was waiting for her capitulation. He would be standing there, arms folded across his chest and his face blank except for the smallest of smirks which turned up the corner of his lips. He always held that expression when he knew he had already won.
It was one thing Betsy had learned about her boss. He didn't like to be told no and he really didn't like to lose so he would always go for the jugular. And how could she argue with him? His argument was sound. She would never be able to live with herself if she put other people at risk because of her own foolishness.
"I will allow you to drive me there but I need to be on my own. I can get a taxi home so you know I won't be driving."
"I'll wait for you." He cut in before Betsy could say anything further.
Whipping her head around, she pinned him with a hard glare. "You're not going to let me win on this are you?"
His only response was to raise a single brow.
"That's what I thought." She murmured. "Fine, you can wait for me. However I will go into the cemetery on my own."
"That's a deal." Nick responded.
Shaking her head, Betsy raised a shaky hand and ran it through her hair. It was too close for comfort but even if she didn't admit it out loud, she needed Nicholas. Her Ex certainly wouldn't be there tomorrow. He wanted to forget everything which had happened. But she couldn't and she never would. It was both a blessing and a curse.
"Let me make the drinks, I think you got more water on the side than in the cups," Nick teased.
Hiccupping loudly, Betsy got stuck between a laugh and a cry as more tears leaked from her eyes. Swiping them away with the back of her hand, Betsy snorted at the look Nick sent her way. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. It was ridiculous but strangely cathartic as she stood back side and watched Nick move around the kitchen in the same commanding way that he did everything else.
No matter how much he tried to hide it, he was a good man. He would make someone very happy. Betsy just hoped deep within her heart that he would choose to be with her.