LITMIR.BIZ

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know what.’

      ‘Frank, come take a look at this.’

      Archer glanced at his mum. Her worried expression was a dead giveaway that she’d sensed tension and was trying to avoid a messy confrontation.

      Uncertain, Frank hesitated.

      With disappointment warring with his bitterness, Archer said, ‘Go.’

      Which was exactly what he intended to do on Christmas Day, as planned.

      Go back to his life, far from Torquay and the ghosts of the past haunting him.

      * * *

      ‘Come back to bed.’

      Archer slid his arms around Callie from behind, resting his chin on her head.

      ‘Just let me finish this.’ She’d like nothing better than to slip back into his arms, but she had less than a day to get this website done and she didn’t want to leave any loose ends.

      Once Archer left she wanted a clean break. No contact.

      It might be idealistic to hope for a stress-free resumption of their previous working relationship, where they e-mailed each other as needed, but she had a feeling Archer wouldn’t mind.

      Since Izzy’s surf lesson and the impromptu Flett picnic at the beach this morning he’d withdrawn. Nothing overt, but she could tell.

      She’d been here before.

      In Capri it had been that silly joke she’d made about proposals in the Blue Grotto. Now she had no idea what had prompted his emotional shutdown.

      From what she’d seen this morning he’d been closer to his family than he had all week. He’d been demonstrative and open and carefree—in his element.

      Something must have happened during the tour of the surf school, because when they’d met up afterwards the tension between him and his dad had been so thick she was surprised it hadn’t clouded the sky.

      And he refused to discuss what was happening on Christmas Day with his family, despite her subtle prompting this afternoon. She had plans of her own to make, and the least he could do was let her in on what the heck was going on.

      The Christmas holidays might not be a big deal for him, considering he lived his life on the road, but his youngest brother was getting married, for goodness’ sake—surely this Christmas would be different?

      ‘We’ve got all tomorrow morning to work on the website.’ He ducked down beside her and kissed her cheek. ‘Now’s the time to play hooky.’

      ‘Won’t you have to do last-minute Christmas stuff before the wedding tomorrow night?’

      Shadows darkened his eyes to indigo. ‘Not really. Like you, I do all my shopping online, so stuff will get delivered direct to the family tomorrow.’

      Knowing she was treading a hazardous path, she pushed away from the laptop and swivelled to face him.

      ‘Don’t you do other stuff?’

      ‘Like?’

      ‘Help your mum chop veggies for the roast on Christmas Day? Set the table? Fill stockings? That kind of thing?’

      He stared at her as if she’d suggested he dress up as Santa and prance around Torquay lugging a sack for the day.

      ‘I don’t do that stuff.’

      ‘Why?’

      A part of her was dying to know, while the realistic part knew he’d never divulge the truth in a million years.

      Guys like him didn’t share deep, dark truths. They hid them away beneath a veneer of charm and practised wit.

      She should know. Her dad had been the same.

      A quick smile and a clever quip for everybody. Loving the world, but not staying put in one place long enough to form any real emotional attachments to anyone.

      Including his own daughter.

      She’d thought Archer was like that too until she’d seen the way he’d connected with those teenagers on the beach. And Izzy.

      He genuinely cared about people, willingly gave of his time expecting nothing in return. That generosity came from within. It wasn’t something you could fake; kids—especially teenagers—picked up on that kind of thing. She had with her dad.

      Seeing that side of Archer, giving himself freely to those teens on the beach, had opened her eyes to his deeper facets—the ones he kept hidden. And it had made it pretty darn impossible to resist him.

      Even with his complicated family history, why didn’t he want to show that side of himself to them?

      ‘I’m not around enough to warrant that kind of involvement in the rituals,’ he said.

      His jaw was clenched so hard she was surprised she couldn’t hear his teeth grind.

      ‘I fly in each year, stay a few days, then I’m outta here. Why disrupt their routine?’

      ‘Maybe because they want you to?’ She kept pushing, her previously undiscovered sadistic side wanting to prod an obvious wound. ‘I know it’s tough on you, after what you told me at the party, but your family light up when you’re around.’

      His sceptical glare indicated that he didn’t believe her for a second. ‘Prodigal son syndrome.’

      She touched him on the arm. ‘Why do you do that? Pretend your family isn’t important to you?’

      ‘That’s bull.’ He leaped to his feet as if she’d electrocuted him. ‘They know how I feel about them.’

      ‘Do they?’

      She stood, wanting to see his reaction when she continued peppering him with bombshells. ‘From what I’ve seen, Travis hangs on your every word, Tom looks out for you, and your folks think you walk on water rather than surf it.’

      She reached for him, but he stepped away on the pretext of shutting a window, when in fact he was shutting her out.

      ‘It’s like they’re vying for your attention and you don’t want any of it.’

      A tiny vein pulsed just below his ear, in the spot she loved to kiss. By his formidable glower, kissing was the last thing on his mind.

      ‘You’ve met my family only a few times. A few more than any other woman I’ve known. What gives you the right to judge when you don’t know them?’

      Or me. The words hung unsaid between them and she resisted the urge to rub her chest where his barb had hit.

      Because it was true.

      She didn’t really know him.

      They’d connected for a brief seven days in Capri, but that had been mostly physical—as articulated by the man himself when he’d walked away.

      As for their time together here... She’d fallen into the old trap of believing physical closeness implied intimacy, when in fact Archer didn’t want to share anything with her. Not the stuff that mattered.

      She wanted him to open up to her about what had happened earlier today to make him retreat—wanted him to trust her enough to do it. She’d thought they’d made major inroads in their developing relationship when he’d divulged the truth about his family at the party.

      She’d been wrong.

      For all she knew nothing had happened with his family during that tour this morning and he was deliberately closing off to her.

      Maybe she’d been getting too close, and this was his way of cluing her in that come Christmas Day, when he dropped her home, they were finished.

      Well, newsflash, surfer boy. She already knew they were over, but this time she wouldn’t walk away with a whimper.

      ‘So I’m

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