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He seldom discussed his past with the women he dated. And never with the women with whom he did business. He preferred to stick to the casual overview. Fish-out-of-water Southern boy raised in London was usually enough.
So why had he cracked open the door to his past to Bree?
Because there was something about her that put him at ease. Made him feel like he could let down his guard. It was the thing he remembered most about that night. He was attracted to her, of course. She was Bree Evans. Tall. Gorgeous. Miles of smooth, glistening skin the shade of brown sugar. Provocative, yet sweet. She was laid-back and genuine with a smile that could convince an Eskimo to buy a truckload of ice. No wonder sponsors fell all over themselves to get her to endorse their products. Lip gloss, facial cleanser, breakfast cereal and workout contraptions.
Keep your head in the game, buddy. This isn’t a date. You’re only trying to create some goodwill.
She broke in to his thoughts with a tentative question. “What was it you were so angry about?”
“Life, I guess. The guys I attended boarding school with had the perfect life handed to them on a silver platter. I didn’t.” He shrugged. “It bugged me.”
“Me, too.” She was quiet, contemplative. “I was the scholarship kid at an elite private school.” She winced, as if the memory caused her physical pain. “Took three buses to get there every morning, but I got an incredible education and a full ride to college because of it. Most importantly, that’s where I fell in love with volleyball. That school changed my life, and I’m grateful for it.”
“But…” There was something she wasn’t saying. The unspoken words were so heavy and dense, they practically hung in the air between them. He should’ve ignored them, but the word tripped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“It was hard being thrust into a completely different world. Especially for a gangly girl who wasn’t quite sure where she fit in. Who wanted to be liked.”
“How could anyone not like Bree Evans, the quintessential girl next door?” He smiled.
Bree glowered at him, then dug in to her potato. “You’d be surprised,” she muttered.
Dammit. He walked right into that one. He wanted to make her forget what an ass he’d been. Now they’d come full circle right back to that night. His gut churned from the hurt in her brown eyes, when she raised them to his again.
“Look, about that night—”
Bree waved his words off as she shook her head. “It wasn’t the right time for you. I know. I’d rather not talk about it.”
Fine. It wasn’t like the conversation was his idea of a good time, either. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he sure as hell didn’t.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Bree engaged him in small talk about the surprisingly mild weather and her lunch with Liam and few of the locals. He nodded politely and responded appropriately. But he couldn’t ignore the pain in her eyes, knowing he’d caused it.
He was his own worst enemy. Always had been.
“The time wasn’t right because, for me, it never is. Not for anything serious. I’m focused on expanding my business, so I don’t get seriously involved with anyone. Ever.”
He studied her face, gauging her reaction and whether he should go further. Her lips were pressed into a straight line, her expression devoid of emotion.
Wes pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “When the night began, it seemed we were on the same page, but then… I don’t know. It felt like you wanted more. That’s not something I can give you. That’s why I didn’t call. Not because I don’t like you. Because I like you too much to start something I can’t finish.”
Bree drained what was left of her second glass of wine. “Thank you for being so honest and for being so very considerate of my feelings. But I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” She stood. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s getting late. I’d better get back.”
“Brianna, don’t go. We were having a lovely dinner. I didn’t mean to spoil the mood, but I don’t want you to feel as if I rejected you. That wasn’t it at all.”
