Lime Tree Hill (A Reluctant Kiss #1)

23. Ice Queen

23

ICE QUEEN

Mitch sat in his Hilux at Petrie Bay, his mind on Tayla and her recent preoccupation. Her tears the night before had him wondering what, or who, had made her so sad. He understood her concern for Barry, but something else was troubling her.

He picked up his phone and brought up her number. The call went straight to her voice mail. When Luka pulled up beside him, Mitch left the cab and unclipped his surfboard from the roof rack, thoughts of Tayla slipping away. “Are you ready to hit these waves?” he asked.

“Yep. More than ready.” Luka untied his board. “How’s married life?”

Looking to the horizon, Mitch searched for the right word. “Complicated.”

“Yeah? Want to talk about it?”

Mitch zipped up his wetsuit and secured the back flap. “Nope. Nothing a bit of chilly saltwater won’t cure.”

“I thought you guys would’ve sorted out your differences by now.”

“Yes, me too. But there’s nothing straightforward when it comes to Tayla. She’s complexity in motion. The proverbial ice queen.”

“Yeah, I’ve met a few ice queens in my time, believe me.”

Mitch laughed and slapped Luka on the back. “I bet you have.”

“Anyway, how’s CeCe?”

“You know, still pretending everything’s okay.” Mitch hesitated. He and Luka rarely discussed his sister. They’d agreed long ago to leave the past where it belonged. “Running the orchard’s too much for her, but she’s determined to see it through. That’s why I went to Tulloch Point last weekend—to give her a hand. She needs more staff.”

“Any word of Andrea and Frank coming home?”

Mitch closed the door of the Hilux and locked it. He hid the keys on top of the tire. “Nope, they’re loving the travel. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to sell up and move back to Clifton Falls when they do come back. Mum loves this area.”

“What will CeCe do then?”

“No idea.” Mitch chuckled. “She’d probably move here too if it wasn’t for you.”

“Piss off.” Luka flashed a wide grin. “Is she seeing anyone?”

Flashing a wide grin back, Mitch picked up his board. “Dunno, mate. You’ll have to ask her that one yourself.”

“Yeah, right.”

The wind picked up around five, bringing with it a bank of storm clouds drifting in from the east. With the water cooler than it had been in weeks and the waves dumping him several times, Mitch only lasted an hour before calling it a day.

When he parked outside the packing shed, Tayla’s car was in its usual spot. He bounded up the stairs, expecting to see her lounging in front of the TV with Edward, a glass of wine in hand and her feet on the coffee table.

But the loft was empty .

Thinking she might be over at Cherry Grove, he grabbed a headlamp and summoned Edward to heel before strolling through the tree rows to the old homestead. The new tenants were arriving soon, and he hadn’t organized the move. Still, it wouldn’t take long once the removal guys got stuck in.

As he walked up to the veranda, the house stood in darkness with no signs of life. Mitch let himself in, calling her name as he made his way down the hallway and into the living room.

He flicked on the light and froze. The room was empty. Every stick of furniture. Every book. Every knick-knack. All gone. He checked the kitchen cabinets and pantry, all cleaned out and spotless. Even the stovetop, oven, and refrigerator were sparkling clean. On the kitchen counter sat a basket overflowing with wine, preserves, honey, and crackers with a small card that read: Welcome to your new home.

The thought of Tayla packing up the house on her own with everything else she had going on, had him shaking his head. And as he stood in the muted light of the dining area, he felt like a complete and utter bastard.

Heading back to the packing shed, a niggling doubt consumed him. He took the stairs two at a time and, once inside, checked her room. The nightstand, where a small stack of paperbacks and a water bottle usually sat, was clear. And in the closet, most of her clothes were missing. Had she left him already?

Mitch pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It was now after seven. He called her again and this time, she answered.

“Tayla? Where are you?”

A sharp intake of breath. “I’m at the airport, about to board a flight to Auckland. I tried to call you. Sorry I didn’t leave a message.”

That ‘utter bastard’ feeling washed over him for the second time that evening, and for a fleeting moment, Mitch wanted to protect her with whatever means he had. “Auckland? Is everything all right?”

“Dad’s back in the operating room.” She hesitated, and he assumed by the sound of a flight being called that she was in the departure lounge. “Um…sorry, I’m having trouble thinking straight. He should be out by now. But we’ve heard nothing. They don’t know what’s going on.”

“Shit. Luka and I went surfing this afternoon, so my phone was in the truck.”

“No problem. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

Mitch moved to the office and sat at his desk. “Okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“No…but thank you. I have to go. They’re calling my flight.”

“Tayla—”

She cut the call.

He stilled as his screen saver flicked through the half-dozen wedding photos Luka had sent him from his phone, staring while the images merged from one to another. Dressed in that stunning pink gown and with her hair flowing as free as the waves behind her, she really was the most beautiful bride.

His beautiful bride.

Minutes later, as he was about to pack a bag to make the long drive to Auckland himself, she phoned back.

“Sorry to bother you again, but I forgot something.” She didn’t wait for a reply. “The carpet cleaner’s coming tomorrow. Can you open the house for him?”

“I was there just before. Everything’s packed. How did you get it all done by yourself? I told you I’d help.”

“Valentina helped me.” She sounded exhausted, her voice soft and laced with a quiver. “Anyway, it’s all set now apart from the carpet. The window cleaner came today.”

“Do you want me to drive up?”

“Dad can’t have any visitors at this stage.”

“It was more to support you. ”

Silence filled the space where words should have been. “There’s no need,” she eventually said, then went quiet again. “But thanks,” she added as a polite gesture.

“Well, can I do any unpacking at your parents?”

“No. Everything’s ready for their return. But that may be weeks away now.”

Thoughts of Tayla consumed Mitch every day. He called her cell phone most mornings, but she seldom answered. Every night, he’d receive a brief text of a few generic words such as Dad’s stable or Dad’s had a reasonable day. His attempts to engage her in text conversation mostly went unanswered.

He ate alone, struggled to concentrate, and woke during the night, wondering how she was coping. In the evenings, after a nondescript dinner, he’d sit in front of the TV, staring blankly at the screen as he waited for her daily text update. With close friends and a supportive family, Mitch was unfamiliar with this state of loneliness. Now he struggled to comprehend the emptiness eating him up inside.

As he readied for bed the following Friday, he picked up the phone and called her again. He wanted to hear her voice, to reassure her everything would be okay. But what could he say that didn’t sound trite? Barry might be out of immediate danger, but he knew the risks as well as she did.

“Hi, it’s Tayla Whitman. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Hey. Just checking in. Call me.”

Mitch woke with a start several hours later. Fumbling with the lamp switch, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand with his other hand and hit answer. “Tayla?”

“Mitch, it’s Ella.”

He sat up, leaned back on the headboard and checked the time. Shit.

“Mitch, are you there?”

“Ella? It’s two in the morning. Where are you?”

“Downstairs.”

The following day, Mitch sat at his desk with his head in his hands, exhausted after talking to Ella half the night. She and Chris were having problems again, and while he knew not to get involved, he felt sorry for her. She’d asked for a brandy to calm her nerves, but the more she topped up her glass, the more suggestive she’d become. Just before dawn, he’d left her to sleep it off on the sofa and headed back to bed. When he walked into the living area for breakfast a few hours later, she’d gone.

Now Tayla was the only woman on his mind. He’d tried Ruby’s landline earlier, but an answerphone kicked in after eight lonely rings.

“Are you in the office, boss?” Ned popped his head around the door. “Crikey. You look like you’ve been up all night. Missing the wee wifey, are we?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“She’s a cute little bundle.” Ned thought for a moment and smiled, showing a neat row of false white teeth. “A kind soul, but troubled.”

Mitch nodded at Ned’s perception. “Yeah, it’s not an easy time for her. Let’s hope Barry recovers, and they can move forward with their retirement.”

“You did well there, boss. Don’t blow it, eh?”

Mitch laughed at the older man and shook his head. “What are you, a freakin’ mind reader or something?”

“I’ve been called worse,” Ned said with a wink. “But a marriage must be worked at from the get-go. A little flirting, movie nights. Play your cards right, and you’ll have her pregnant in no time.”

As an image of a pregnant Tayla flashed into his mind, Mitch couldn’t help but smile. “Speaking from experience, are we?”

“You young fellas think you have this romance business sorted, but I still like to lie with my woman. Keeps me young and sprightly.”

Mitch pictured Ned’s frail wife, Maggie—eighty if she was a day—snuggled up on the couch next to an equally frail Ned as they ate popcorn and watched movies. He burst out laughing. “Anyway, Casanova, what are you doing here? You realize it’s Saturday, you’re supposed to have the day off.”

“Yeah, I know. But we may have a problem with the grapefruit.”

“What sort of problem?”

“I’m not sure yet, but it looks like someone’s been helping themselves.”