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‘Didn’t it ever occur to you, Luke, the reason I never wanted to talk to you again was simply because I never wanted to be lied to again?’
Halle watched Luke’s brows arrow down.
That’d be a no, then.
‘I got over being pissed off with you a long time ago,’ she added. Which if she kept saying it often enough must surely make it true. ‘My refusal to communicate with you wasn’t because I was sulking. It was because I didn’t trust you. Because, guess what? Trust has to be earned. I can’t imagine what Monroe’s going to be able to do about the sad fact you never did a single thing to earn mine.’
He was quiet for a long time, the purr of the engine the only sound. That and Dolly Parton crooning about always loving someone while walking away from them.
Trust Dolly to add the perfect note of irony.
The car slowed as an elaborate sign appeared, looking out of place on the lonely road, proclaiming it was only three miles to The Monroe Couples’ Resolution Retreat. They continued on in silence for ten pregnant minutes as the Lexus turned off the highway and took the narrow one-track road.
It wasn’t until Luke had given their details to the guard at the manned security booth and driven through the gate to the resort that he spoke again. ‘Then I guess it’s a good thing Monroe’s “bonding exercises” to re-establish trust are so extreme.’
Wait a minute. Extreme. Extreme how?
‘Exactly how extreme are they?’ Why hadn’t she read that bloody itinerary?
She didn’t do extreme, not when primeval wildernesses were concerned. She’d never even been tempted to appear on I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! despite numerous overtures to her agent. And they paid you for that.
‘You know, as in Xtreme sports, extreme. Hiking, white-water rafting, wilderness camping, that sort of thing.’
‘You are not serious?’ she said, unable to quell the tremble of horror.
She didn’t do camping. She didn’t even do glamping. Sleeping outdoors with only a flimsy layer of nylon between her and the untamed primal wilderness that currently surrounded them might actually be more traumatic than having to sit through two weeks of real couples’ counselling with Luke.
And white-water rafting? When I can get seasick in a pedalo? I’ll die.
He parked the car in front of a wood-framed reception building that looked like a quaint country farmhouse complete with white picket fence and rocking chairs on the porch.
‘Actually, I’m dead serious.’ His lopsided smile suggested her horrified reaction wasn’t going to cause him any sleepless nights. ‘Trust me.’
Chapter 10
Three a.m. and all’s crap, frankly.
Halle stared at the digital clock on her iPhone.
Because I’m lying in bed contemplating two solid weeks of extrem
e sports torture in the company of a man who can infuriate me just by breathing. Oh, yeah, and it’s three o’clock in the fricking morning and I’m wide awake.
Of course, it also didn’t help that last night she’d discovered the deluxe hillside cabin, overlooking the glorious untamed wilderness of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, not only didn’t have a pool, but it also didn’t have a TV, a phone signal or any Wi-Fi.
Obviously, ‘rebuilding love relationships’ in Jackson Monroe’s world involved making sure that those relationships were rebuilt on the bedrock of lots and lots of enforced intimacy. After the thirteen hours she’d spent in Luke’s company already, she suspected spending two weeks with him constantly in her face was liable to send her screaming into the woods. Literally.
Suddenly the possibility of closure, the reason she’d agreed to this stupid trip in the first place, didn’t look anywhere near as attractive as it had in Paris. What if being this close to Luke triggered more of those hormonal flashbacks like the one she’d had on the plane? Or, worse, gave him the opportunity to undermine her confidence as a mother?
It had taken years for her to arrive at a good place as a parent, or a good enough place. Lizzie still had issues, issues that Luke was completely oblivious to, but they were normal teenage issues. Their daughter wasn’t anorexic or a drug addict and Halle had survived four months of family therapy to prove it. And she wasn’t about to let Luke—the part-time parent par excellence—make her feel inadequate.
She should have complained to Luke about their sleeping arrangements the night before but there hadn’t been an opportune moment. After signing about a billion release forms and filling out an ominous questionnaire about their physical fitness levels, they’d been shown to their accommodation to find a lavish supper of cold cuts and salads laid out in the cabin’s main living area. Luke’s head had been lolling over the dishes as soon as he’d sat down and she’d ended up taking pity on him and telling him to go crash out before he face-planted in the potato salad.
She’d decided to tackle the thorny issue of getting a new, separate cabin tomorrow.
But as she’d cleaned up their dinner dishes, she’d rationalised away her qualms. He had a separate room on the cabin’s mezzanine level with a separate bathroom. And she didn’t even like him. And he didn’t like her.
It wasn’t as if she actually fancied him. Even the new, more buff Luke wasn’t sexy enough to make her forget what a bastard he was, or the underhanded tactics he’d used to get her here. And the ‘extreme bonding experiences’ detailed in Monroe’s brochure—which she’d read last night from cover to cover—should do the rest of the job. If there was anything guaranteed to put inappropriate thoughts about her ex out of her mind, it was the prospect of white-water rafting.
