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As the meal progressed—Stefan eating with gusto while his father sipped on the tip of his spoon—Franz faltered in his speech and yawned a few times. The two of them conversed in German, and Stefan occasionally translated. Most of the conversation appeared to be about the nurse and Franz’s lack of enthusiasm for having a resident caregiver.
“Dad wants the current domestic to do the cooking and not have a nurse,” explained Stefan between mouthfuls of minestrone.
I gave Franz a sympathetic smile and instinctively patted the back of his hand, just as I had done my father when he had lain pathetically in hospital. “I would love to have somebody take care of me,” I told him. “Somebody who will keep me company.”
Franz scowled but didn’t withdraw his hand. “We will give her two weeks. Then, she can go.”
Stefan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. “Papi, two weeks is nothing. You heard the doctor. This could take many weeks.”
Franz slipped his hand away and waved a dismissive gesture at his son. “I am tired. I go to bed.”
“Let me help you.” Stefan sprang to his feet. The sight of him taking such care of his father touched me greatly. It came as no surprise to me that Franz was less than keen to have his son fuss over him, nor that Stefan ignored his protests and followed Franz out of the room, hands poised, ready to catch his father if he should fall.
I tidied up the kitchen. It was time to deal with my own issues. I had a flight to book. A few days earlier, I’d arrived in Germany in a state of emotional turmoil and confused intentions. My reasons for coming could not keep me here. Stefan needed to settle his father back home without me distracting him. I could no longer take advantage of Bridget’s generosity.
I went in search of the laptop I’d seen lying about. I found it in a small study and booted it up, hoping it wasn’t password locked. Success! It went straight in and connected to the Wi-Fi. I called up various travel agents and began the laborious process of comparing costs.
“There you are,” announced Stefan. He came and stood behind my chair. “You’re going.” The tone of his voice was clearly deflated.
“I can’t stay any longer. We’ve kissed and made up. More than kissed,” I smirked over my shoulder at him.
He greeted me with a sullen expression.
“I have a job, Stefan. I’ve taken advantage of Bridget long enough, and not everyone has a trust fund to live off of,” I added and immediately regretted the implication. I’d watched Micah fritter away his allowance, not Stefan. I’d seen very little extravagance from him beyond his sports car. However, I didn’t apologize for my blunt outburst.
He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Let me help.” He directed me to another website and, making use of his familiarity with flights from Europe, found me a far better deal than Bridget had done on my flight over. “I should reimburse you for these tickets.”
I glared at him. “No,” I snapped. “It was my decision to come.”
“All the same… It isn’t fair for you. I upset you, made the mistake that brought you out here.”
“I chose, remember? If your dad hadn’t fallen ill, we would have made up eventually, back in England.” I tried to sound confident with my prediction. However, part of me wondered if the trip out, the effort involved, had triggered my need to resolve our differences. After he had left me in the florist shop, I’d been adamant about my unforgiving stance. Would I have held out, refused to see him? Fate had brought us together again. Where would it take us next?
The matter of money didn’t end there because I went to fetch my credit card and by the time I returned, he’d paid for the flight with his own. I stamped my foot. “Stefan!”
“Mausi. This was my choice. Don’t argue. Let’s call it quits. The flight is in the afternoon. After I pick up the nurse from Rosenheim, I shall drive you to the airport. Okay?” He folded his arms across his chest and gave me one of his hard stares. His stern expression placated me immediately. Naturally, I melted on the spot. How could he turn me on so easily when I should be cross with him? Damn him.
I rolled my eyes at him and pouted. “Very well,” I said with exaggerated reluctance.
“Eye rolling,” he commented. “I think that requires a little correction.”
I shot an alarmed glance at him. “Little?”
He stood up. “Or would you like it to be more than a little?”
I backed away, clasping my hands behind my back. “Your father is home.”
He stalked me across the room. “You’ll have to be quiet. No screaming orgasms.”
Damn him. My pussy clenched on cue. I grinned and all the previous tension flew out of me at the thought of sex with Stefan. “You’ll let me come?” As if he could stop me. We both knew it was a game.
“Maybe,” he teased. As he backed me against a wall, he stopped and sniffed the air. “You’ve been swimming.”
“Your suggestion,” I reminded him.
“You haven’t showered properly, have you?”
I added sulkiness to my expression, dropped my chin and shook my head like a naughty child.
