Dodging the other inhabitants of the guest wing, I'd snuck in to Nash's room to find it empty. The closet held only bare hangers. The bathroom was devoid of anything personal. He was gone, and I was a fool. There was nothing more to say.
I was not chasing after him. Either he'd turned off his phone, or he'd blocked me. The ache in my heart was so deep it threatened to take my breath. I pulled up his contact on my phone and scrolled down to tap 'Block this Caller'.
I thought I'd feel better when it was done. A little revenge for the pain he'd caused. I didn't. He probably wouldn't even call to find out I'd blocked him. He got what he wanted from me. If he came back for more, I'd deal with him then.
I retreated to the cottage and set about scrubbing away my heartache.
First, I tried reminding myself that Nash didn't owe me anything. He hadn't declared his love for me, hadn't made me any promises. There had been that talk of 'plans', but maybe he'd meant taking me to bed. He certainly had plans once we got there.
Was I complaining about a night of mind blowing orgasms? Maybethatwas his plan; to bounce in and out of town, screwing me senseless when he was here.
I tried not to let the thought hurt. I could list a thousand reasons why I should not be pining for my brother-in-law. The whole thing was insane and inappropriate, and far better as a one-time fling. Well, two-time fling. But that was it. Never again.
My logical side said Nash was fun while he lasted, but he wasn't my future. He couldn't be, and his leaving was like ripping off a bandage. Painful, but necessary. I needed to get over him and get back to living my new life, in which I was soon to be divorced and did not need a complicated lover.
I knew my logical side was right. I could sulk here in the cottage, working out my hurt on these stained tiles, but eventually I'd have to get over it and get back to normal. A normal without Nash. The next time he sailed into town, I'd give him a cool smile and tell him I wasn't interested.
I ignored the tear that scalded my cheek as it slid down to splash the tile. I was not going to cry over Nash Kingsley. Just because I was inexperienced and got my heart tangled up in great sex did not mean I was going to keep acting like an idiot.
I worked through the afternoon and into the evening, sneaking into the dark kitchen to make a sandwich after everyone else was settled for the night. I didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to explain my swollen eyes and bruised heart.
When I woke in the morning, I still felt like hell after a night of broken sleep, plagued by dreams of Nash. His smile, the way he held my hand, the deep intimacy of feeling him skin to skin. All a lie.
I'd grabbed a granola bar and coffee in my room and fled to the cottage. I couldn't force my heart back into one piece, but at least I could distract myself with work. One more day and the tile in the first floor bathroom would be back to its original condition. Just a few more hours of scrubbing.
Resolved, at least for the next minute, I went back to work, trying to think about my to-do list for the cottage, and the upcoming meeting with Billy Bob to talk about the gatehouse. Hawk had insisted it was fine, but I'd talked my way into his living space and it was far from fine. He was sleeping on a fold out camp cot, his kitchen an ice-filled cooler and a camp stove. The bathroom was functional, but that was the best I could say about it.
We'd all agreed that the cottage was the priority, but the gatehouse was a close second. When it was finished, Hawk would have two floors of living space, a spacious bedroom that took up the whole second level and an open-plan kitchen and living space on the ground floor.
Unlike the cottage, it was going to need a lot more than elbow grease and a few new fixtures. I wasn't looking forward to telling Hawk he was going to have to move into the main house for at least a month. I had a feeling our taciturn head of security/groundskeeper would not appreciate living with the rest of the family. Too bad. We couldn't always get what we wanted.
I bit my lip and shoved away that snarky thought. It wasn't Hawk's fault I was in a crappy mood. He wasn't the one who'd ripped my heart out of my chest and ground it into dust. It wasn't anyone's fault, but mine. And Nash's.
Tossing the scrub brush into the bucket beside me, I stood, my hands automatically going to my cramped lower back. Giving the tiles a critical look, I decided I'd gotten off most of the grime. Stains remained, but I had something for that. Retrieving a can from the kitchen, I carefully sprayed the tiles with a layer of white foam that stank of chemicals. It needed to sit until it dissolved.
Might as well head back to the house and pack up the things I'd sold in the last few days. Three pairs of very nice heels, four purses, and a cocktail dress. Day by day, my bank balance was growing and my closet was shrinking. It wasn't a ton of cash–anyone from my old life would have laughed at the sum I'd accumulated–but it was enough to give me some breathing room. I could pay for gas, my car insurance, and cat toys without asking for a loan. Right now, that little bit of independence felt very good.
I washed my hands in the sink, grabbed my notebook off the counter, and left the cottage. Striding across the lawn to the main house, I went in the back door to the mudroom, distractedly noticing that Savannah was mopping the back stairs to the second floor. "I'll go around," I called with a wave, diverting through the butler's pantry and dining room to the front hall and the main stairs.
I was so lost in my head, finally distracted from Nash by my plans for the rest of the day, that I didn't catch the voices until it was too late.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Griffen. Why was Griffen shouting?
I quickened my pace and spilled into the entry hall to find Hawk just inside the front door, his big hand clamped over the back of Tyler's neck. Tyler? I glanced at Griffen to find him standing opposite me by the hallway that led to the library and his office, his face dark with rage. Hope hovered behind him, glancing over her shoulder.
"Tyler?" I asked, not understanding. "What are you doing here?"
As if he wasn't being held captive by Hawk, Tyler scanned me from head to toe, taking in my messy ponytail, worn jeans and stained t-shirt. "What the hell are you wearing? You look ridiculous. The maids are dressed better than you."
His narrowed eyes, the scorn dripping from his words, were all too much. I didn't want to deal with Tyler on a good day. Today, Tyler's crap was the last thing I needed.
"I was working," I said tartly. "I shouldn't be surprised you don't know what that looks like." I shifted my gaze to Hawk. "What is he doing here?"
"He says he's here to work things out," Hawk said, without expression. I knew him well enough by now to see the glint of annoyed amusement in his eyes.
"Not interested," I said to the room. Meeting Tyler's eyes, I went on, "I don't know why you're here, but I made it clear that I don't want you anywhere near me. Angie suggested I get a restraining order based on your texts. If you won't leave, I'll be forced to do that, and it won't look good for you when we finally get in front of a judge."
"There won't be a judge," Tyler insisted, jutting his chin out and glaring at me. "We aren't getting divorced. We're going to work this out, and you'll see we belong together."
