Free Beauty from Pain by Georgia Cates Page A

to wear in the outback. And I’ll be damned if
he’s not wearing an Indiana Jones hat. Even out of a suit, he’s
hotter than the devil’s ass.
    This is going to be a great couple of
days.
    He meets me halfway on the sidewalk. “No suit
today, I see.”
    “ As promised.”
    One promise kept. We’ll see if he keeps his
other.
    “ I see you have a bag.” He grins
and kisses my cheek as he reaches to take my bag from
me.
    “ It doesn’t mean I’m staying.”
That’s such a lie. I wonder if he can tell by looking at
me.
    He cocks his head. “An overnight bag doesn’t
mean the same thing in the US as it does in Australia?”
    “ This one means I like to be
prepared just in case.”
    “ It feels heavy to me, like you’re
prepared to stay a couple of nights.” He reaches for my hand and
holds it as we walk to the car. This is him getting an early start
on ridding us of our stranger anxiety.
    “ We’ll see how things
go.”
    He pops the trunk and puts my things inside
the sporty, and very expensive, black convertible. “I’ve never seen
a car like this before. What kind is it?”
    “ A Fisker Karma
Sunset.”
    “ I’ve never heard of that before.
It’s … stunning.”
    “ I know.” He opens the door for
me. I get in and watch his beautiful form walk around to the
driver’s side. Let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t agree to a three-month
fling with this man?
    I know I’m going to agree. And he knows it
too. He’s said as much, but I can’t let him think I’m giving in so
easily.
    He starts the car. It has a deep roar. “Top up
or down?”
    “ Down, but let me grab a ponytail
holder out of my purse.”
    “ There’s some in the glove
compartment.”
    It’s only a ponytail holder, but
there’s no way I’m wearing anything belonging to number one through
twelve. He reaches over to open it and
notices my expression. “I didn’t ask you to wear another woman’s
undies. My little sister has long hair and she likes to ride with
the top down. She keeps a stash in there.”
    Nice recovery.
    I take the holder from him and pull my hair
up, wondering if he’s bullshitting me about his sister.
“Ready.”
    The drive to the vineyard outside Wagga Wagga
is beautiful. We pass mile after mile of grapes on the way to the
house and as we get closer, I see a traditional old-world-style
mansion in the distance. It looks Italian, not Australian, but then
I’m not really sure what I think constitutes Australian
architecture. “Miss Beckett, this is Avalon Vineyard.”
    Wow. It’s incredible. “Your boss must think a
lot of you if he puts you up in a place this nice.”
    “ You could say that.”
    When we get out of the car, Lachlan walks
around to the trunk. He lifts his brow as he asks, “Since you don’t
know if you’re staying, does your bag go inside or remain in the
trunk?”
    He is dying to hear my confirmation, but I’m
not finished having fun with this little game. “Umm … I think it’s
fine to take it inside to one of the guest rooms.”
    “ I don’t know why you’re
pretending you might say no.”
    Because this is your game. These are your
rules. I need to feel like I have control over some aspect of it,
even if it’s only for a little while.
    Our first stop is the kitchen. It’s beautiful
and fitting for the house, like one of those grand Italian kitchens
from a luxury home magazine. At least, that’s the only time I’ve
ever seen anything like it.
    There’s a basket of goodies on the counter, so
I walk over and peek inside. It’s filled with an assortment of
food, and of course, a bottle of wine. “Very nice.”
    “ I can’t take the credit. Mrs.
Porcelli packed the lunch for us.”
    “ Who’s Mrs. Porcelli?”
    “ She does my cooking and
housekeeping.”
    How odd. His employer pays him enough to
employ someone to do his cooking and cleaning. “Will I meet her or
does she fall into the friend/family/identifying information
category?”
    “ I haven’t decided, but it