however, was that he seemed so comfortable in his own skin, in who he was, and in the things he did. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted out of life, something she respected. Something she wished for herself.
Lucy leaned against the wall, pulling her legs close to her body. If she possessed just an ounce of that confidence and belief… But she was working on it. She had to stop counting herself out, had to stop the self-sabotage, and telling herself she wasn't good enough to try.
"I can feel you frowning at me," he said before opening his eyes and turning slightly so that his shoulder rested against the wall.
Lucy didn't bother denying it. She shrugged, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Just thinking."
He arched an eyebrow. "About me."
"Don't flatter yourself."
He snorted at her obvious lie.
"Well, I was frowning , so it's not like it was a good thought."
"Gee. Thanks. So what is this horrible thought?"
"Why are you being so kind to me? I haven't exactly made the best impression."
"No," he agreed. "You haven't."
Ian went quiet as thunderclouds rolled in, making the room darker and the flames brighter. Shadows danced on the walls. The fire snapped and sparks shot into the air. "I was pissed," he admitted.
"But you're not anymore."
"I'm pretty good at reading people. Kind of obvious the whole thing was giving you grief. You didn't enjoy lying. I get trying to help someone. But why did you let me think you were your cousin?"
She really didn't want to get into details. But she knew he deserved an answer. "I don't know. I was embarrassed, already nervous about your reaction once you learned Riley wasn't coming. I couldn't seem to open my mouth and say it. I guess . . . I didn't want to be a disappointment yet again. Which is my own issue, not yours, so..."
"I would have been disappointed," he admitted. "Riley is one of the top travel writers in the States. But why 'a disappointment, yet again'?"
"You really don't want to know."
"I think we have some time." Thunder shook the house and Ian glanced out the window. Concern flashed across his face and then was gone. "Start talking."
She scooted closer to the wall and stared at the fire, listening to its pop and snap as thunder rumbled again and rain continued to batter the roof. She wasn't as opposed to sharing as she thought she'd be. Maybe it was time to get it all out, to set it free. And maybe that was easier to do with a relative stranger than it was with her family.
"All right. Well, why do I feel like a disappointment? Let's see. Because I've failed at most everything I have ever tried. Because I'm thirty years old and still don't have a defined goal in life." She thought of her parents, her voice dropping. "Because people leave me and never come back."
That statement hung in the air for a moment before Ian asked, "What people?"
"My ex, for one. Dumped me at our engagement party." Ian winced. "Said he tried, but just couldn't live an entire life with someone who had no ambition, no goals, someone who was okay with bathing and smelling like dogs forever. He hated dogs."
Ian watched Lucy's profile and felt the first stirrings of anger. "I hope you laid him out flat."
She turned a sad smile his way, and it made him want to punch the guy himself. "No. I was pretty pathetic. Just stood there. I think I was in shock. I didn't say anything." She toyed with the hem of her shirt, her voice quiet when she spoke again. "Seeing him walk away… That was hard part. That feeling of being left where you stand. Knowing you're no longer wanted."
Christ. He hadn't thought by pushing her to open up that it'd be so goddamn sad and infuriating. He was torn between trying to make it better—even though he had no clue how to do that—and wanting to hurt the man who'd put that deep sadness in her eyes.
"Funny thing is," she continued, "I think I was more stunned and hurt by being left than by the actual breakup, if that makes sense."
He nodded. "Who else left you?"
Lucy leaned against the wall, pulling her legs close to her body. If she possessed just an ounce of that confidence and belief… But she was working on it. She had to stop counting herself out, had to stop the self-sabotage, and telling herself she wasn't good enough to try.
"I can feel you frowning at me," he said before opening his eyes and turning slightly so that his shoulder rested against the wall.
Lucy didn't bother denying it. She shrugged, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Just thinking."
He arched an eyebrow. "About me."
"Don't flatter yourself."
He snorted at her obvious lie.
"Well, I was frowning , so it's not like it was a good thought."
"Gee. Thanks. So what is this horrible thought?"
"Why are you being so kind to me? I haven't exactly made the best impression."
"No," he agreed. "You haven't."
Ian went quiet as thunderclouds rolled in, making the room darker and the flames brighter. Shadows danced on the walls. The fire snapped and sparks shot into the air. "I was pissed," he admitted.
"But you're not anymore."
"I'm pretty good at reading people. Kind of obvious the whole thing was giving you grief. You didn't enjoy lying. I get trying to help someone. But why did you let me think you were your cousin?"
She really didn't want to get into details. But she knew he deserved an answer. "I don't know. I was embarrassed, already nervous about your reaction once you learned Riley wasn't coming. I couldn't seem to open my mouth and say it. I guess . . . I didn't want to be a disappointment yet again. Which is my own issue, not yours, so..."
"I would have been disappointed," he admitted. "Riley is one of the top travel writers in the States. But why 'a disappointment, yet again'?"
"You really don't want to know."
"I think we have some time." Thunder shook the house and Ian glanced out the window. Concern flashed across his face and then was gone. "Start talking."
She scooted closer to the wall and stared at the fire, listening to its pop and snap as thunder rumbled again and rain continued to batter the roof. She wasn't as opposed to sharing as she thought she'd be. Maybe it was time to get it all out, to set it free. And maybe that was easier to do with a relative stranger than it was with her family.
"All right. Well, why do I feel like a disappointment? Let's see. Because I've failed at most everything I have ever tried. Because I'm thirty years old and still don't have a defined goal in life." She thought of her parents, her voice dropping. "Because people leave me and never come back."
That statement hung in the air for a moment before Ian asked, "What people?"
"My ex, for one. Dumped me at our engagement party." Ian winced. "Said he tried, but just couldn't live an entire life with someone who had no ambition, no goals, someone who was okay with bathing and smelling like dogs forever. He hated dogs."
Ian watched Lucy's profile and felt the first stirrings of anger. "I hope you laid him out flat."
She turned a sad smile his way, and it made him want to punch the guy himself. "No. I was pretty pathetic. Just stood there. I think I was in shock. I didn't say anything." She toyed with the hem of her shirt, her voice quiet when she spoke again. "Seeing him walk away… That was hard part. That feeling of being left where you stand. Knowing you're no longer wanted."
Christ. He hadn't thought by pushing her to open up that it'd be so goddamn sad and infuriating. He was torn between trying to make it better—even though he had no clue how to do that—and wanting to hurt the man who'd put that deep sadness in her eyes.
"Funny thing is," she continued, "I think I was more stunned and hurt by being left than by the actual breakup, if that makes sense."
He nodded. "Who else left you?"
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