Tempted By The Billionaire Next Door. Therese Beharrie

an indulgent smile as he chopped the bananas and plopped them in a bowl, adding a generous dollop of peanut butter as though he’d made the meal countless times before. He finished his sandwich almost as quickly and then offered her something to drink. Before she knew it, she was following him into the sunroom she’d admired earlier.

      ‘You didn’t have to go to all this effort,’ she said when they sat.

      ‘It wasn’t really an effort.’ He shrugged and took a big bite of his sandwich.

      She followed by spooning banana and peanut butter together, and then lifted it to her mouth. When she’d swallowed, she looked up to see him watching her, a strange expression on his face. She wasn’t sure why it made her feel flushed and, though she wanted to, she didn’t think she’d be able to blame it on pregnancy hormones. It had her blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

      ‘I quite liked the trees in your backyard before you cut them down.’

      ‘I did, too. But their leaves were clogging the gutters and, with winter coming, I thought I’d do something about it. You know, make sure the gutters work when the rain comes and have wood for the fireplace.’

      Dutifully, she said, ‘The fireplace is wonderful. Your whole house is.’

      His eyes scanned her face and she felt another flush of heat. ‘Why don’t I believe you, Jess?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ she replied, and quickly ate another spoonful of peanut butter. She regretted it immediately when she noticed he was still watching her, and tried her best to act casually. When she’d swallowed, she reached for the bottle of water he’d offered her earlier and drank greedily.

      ‘I don’t really like the décor,’ he continued as though there hadn’t been any pause after her answer. ‘But I’d already left before it was finished, so I wasn’t really involved with the decision-making. Anja was, though, since we used the same guy for both our places, and I prefer hers.’

      ‘I thought you hadn’t been back since...since you left,’ she finished lamely, though his expression told her he knew she’d meant to say since your father died.

      ‘No, I haven’t been back, but I saw pictures of both our places. I think Anja purposely gave the designer free rein to get back at me.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For leaving.’ His eyes stayed on hers. ‘Though you’d know more about that than I would.’

      ‘Anja didn’t tell me about the décor at all. I think it might have been before my time.’

      ‘I wasn’t talking about the décor.’

      She forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about.’

      ‘About my sister’s feelings about me leaving. You mentioned that she told you more than just the fact that I’d left for business.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Care to share?’ He gave her a smile that told her he was trying to charm her again.

      ‘No.’

      The smile faltered. ‘I thought—’

      ‘What?’ she interrupted. ‘That I’d tell you everything your sister told me?’

      He lifted an arm. Rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I thought that since you were her friend, you must know...something.’

      ‘The fact that I’m her friend means that I wouldn’t tell you what I know.’ Jess set down her bowl and perched on the edge of her chair. ‘You didn’t ask me over because you wanted the two of us to get along for Anja’s sake. You asked me over so that I could tell you something that would help you get along with Anja.’

      ‘And if I tell you you’re right?’

      ‘Then I’d say that it was lovely meeting you, Dylan, and wish you all the best for your return to Cape Town on my way out.’

      He set his lunch down just as she had, and when he met her gaze his expression was a plea she felt hit her right in the chest. ‘You must have known that was part of the reason I asked you over.’

      She considered it. ‘Maybe. But—’

       But I wanted to believe that you wanted to get to know me.

      She nearly laughed at herself. Clearly she hadn’t learnt her lesson yet. People never wanted her.

      ‘It seems like you want something from me that I’m not willing to give you. So it’s probably best if I just leave.’

      ‘No, Jess, don’t.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because... I’m sorry.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve handled this poorly.’

      ‘You’re apologising way too much for someone who’s only just met me,’ she said softly. Coolly.

      ‘So I’ll be honest instead,’ he replied, his voice tight. ‘I wanted to know...what I was coming back to. The extent of the damage I caused by leaving.’

      ‘I think you already do.’

      He nodded. ‘It would be nice to have some more...context.’

      She shook her head and rose to her feet. ‘I don’t have context to give you. No,’ she said when he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Your context should come from Anja. Or your mother.’

      His face darkened. ‘I suppose I’ll have to wait for Anja to get back then.’

      Jess frowned. ‘You don’t have to. Your mother lives—’

      ‘Thank you, Jess,’ he interrupted, and stood with her. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you.’

      Though Jess didn’t understand his reaction, she knew that he was asking her to leave. She would have been offended if she wasn’t so...curious. It was clear that Dylan had no intention of asking his mother about what had happened after he’d left. And the look on his face told her that there was a reason for that. A reason even Anja didn’t know, or else Jess would know, too.

      It was all very interesting, but Jess told herself it was none of her business. Again. She didn’t know why she had to remind herself of that so often, so she murmured her thanks to Dylan and walked towards the door.

      ‘Jess—’ Dylan said from behind her.

      ‘It’s okay.’ She opened the door and gave Daisy one last pat. ‘You don’t have to explain it to me. I get it.’ She paused. ‘It was lovely meeting you, too, Dylan. I hope your return to Cape Town is everything you hoped it would be.’

      She walked out before he could reply.

      * * *

      Dylan stared at the door long after Jess had left, hoping that their interaction wasn’t an omen for the rest of his return.

      He knew the way things had spiralled between them was his fault. But he’d wanted to know what Jess knew. He told himself it was because it would give him an indication of what Anja knew. Of what his sister thought of him. But, deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t want Jess to judge him based on the only thing he’d done in his life that had disappointed his sister.

      Because he’d been disappointed, too, and he knew what it felt like. His entire life, his father had disappointed him. It was the best—or, rather, easiest—word to use to describe how Dylan felt about his father. About the man’s gambling addiction. About his absence. And perhaps Dylan would have been able to put it all behind him after his father had died if he hadn’t found out his mother had known about his father’s problems before he or Anja had been born.

      He and Anja had spent their entire childhood trying to comfort their mother after their father had left them. They’d no longer been children. Instead, their existence had been dedicated