Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Winnie took a step back as Matthew approached in silence.
Instead of his armor or his t-shirt and jeans, he wore what she could only assume was authentic period clothing—layered pants that looked like chaps and a flowing shirt that amplified his level of attractiveness to a point where she was no longer looking at him, but staring at him.
She had to admit it. In this one regard, authenticity was really working for Matthew. The man embodied the rugged-medieval-knightly look to a T.
Obviously unaware of her stares, he walked past her, reached forward, and opened the door without a hitch.
Winnie gaped. How the heck had he done that? No matter how hard she’d tried before, the door would not budge for her. She didn’t care to admit how long she’d been struggling with the blasted thing.
Fine, five minutes. Five flipping minutes. And now this guy just waltzed in and opened it in a split-second?
Resting a hand on her hip, she quirked her head to the side, refusing to feel any sort of embarrassment, as there was obviously some special way to open the dang thing .
“Okay, what’s the trick?” she asked.
“No trick,” Matthew replied, staring at her with those gorgeous, cobalt eyes of his. “You just simply have to know how to open a door.”
She pulled in her lips at his snippy response, though ultimately, she chose to ignore it. She’d be better off giving him the benefit of the doubt. He’d just lost his festival to her, after all. She owed him a little grace.
“I don’t know,” she responded. “I’m not convinced you didn’t use some sort of wizardry or something to open it. You know, like Merlin or the man Harry Potter himself.”
He eyed her, no doubt to see if she was teasing, which she totally was. She couldn’t help herself. His knowledge of Harry Potter had been kind of adorable. It made him more human.
He made no move to respond to her joking, which produced another question in her mind. “Can I ask you something, Matthew?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
Winnie had often been forced to work with condescending people. So if she had to do the same with Matthew, she at least was grateful he was as nice to look at as Chris Hemsworth in that Disney+ show.
And no, contrary to what everyone thought, she hadn’t just watched the series because he took his shirt off in every episode.
That was merely a bonus.
Choosing to ignore Matthew’s words once again, she continued, clearing her throat. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Well, we got off on the right foot, then swapped to the wrong foot after that.”
“That’s not a question.”
Very observant of you, Matthew. “No, it’s not,” she said. “My question is, can we start over?”
Matthew shifted, folding his arms. As he did so, the scent of his cologne wafted toward her. He didn’t smell like the men in New York with rich and overly powerful scents. Instead, his cologne was more earthy. More natural. And there was the distinct smell of leather about him. Was that authentic? Either way, she wasn’t about to complain.
He waited a moment, clearly thinking over her proposition before shrugging. “I suppose.”
Clearly, that was all he was willing to give. “Great. Then I’ll?—”
“I take it that’s as close to an apology as I’m going to get from you,” he interrupted.
“Sorry, what?” she questioned.
“Ah, so you can say the word.”
She was about to blow out a breath, but if there was one thing she’d learned from dealing with difficult people, it was that she should never let them know they were getting under her skin.
That gave them all the power.
“Oh, I can say the word,” she said with a calm smile. “When it’s warranted.”
He watched her carefully. “So you don’t believe an apology is warranted after you criticized my home yesterday?”
Ah, so that’s what he was talking about. “For the record, no,” she began, “I don’t believe I need to apologize for speaking the truth about Foxwood. I wasn’t criticizing it. I was pointing out areas that could do with some improvement. And,” she paused, debating on whether or not to continue before throwing caution to the wind. “I hate to break it to you, but I’ll be saying much worse than that in the coming days about the festival. I hope you’re ready for it.”
He remained still, his eyes narrowing only slightly.
Wasn’t she supposed to have been starting over with him? Trying to butter him up? She swallowed her pride and tipped her head to the side. “Of course, I am sorry if I was a little too blunt for your liking. I’ll be more kind when it comes to the festival, I promise.”
Matthew said nothing. After a moment, she leaned forward. “Am I to take your silence as accepting my apology or denying it? ”
He drew a deep breath, his eyebrows together. “How could I do anything but accept such a generous offer?” Sarcasm hung from his every word. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t fix everything else.”
“Oh, there’s more?” she questioned.
He nodded.
“Care to tell me so we might avoid a guessing game?” she asked.
“Absolutely. Let’s see, how about you speeding on my family’s property, destroying the grounds due to distracted driving, spraying mud across my armor so I was required to polish it all over again, dirtying the front hall with muddy footprints, and finally, agreeing to run a festival you know next to nothing about all while hoping you don’t run it into the ground?”
He finished, his frown having grown deeper and deeper as he’d continued, all while Winnie listened with measured breaths. She was used to barrages of criticism. Heck, if Matthew thought he could get to her with his words after she’d lived in her father’s home for nearly two decades, he had another thing coming. Compared to the metaphorical tomatoes Dad constantly threw at her, Matthew’s words were like flowers on a stage.
“Wow,” she said with a feigned heavy nod. “That’s quite the rap sheet, isn’t it? So one overarching apology won’t make up for them all?”
He didn’t respond, clearly unamused.
“No?” she pressed. Again, no response. “Okay, well, for the record, I did apologize for spraying mud all over you. As for everything else, what if I tell you everything that you’ve done to me so our actions cancel each other out?”
He scoffed. “And just what have I done to you, exactly?”
Now it was her turn to fold her arms. “How about tricking me into sharing more about your estate by making me believe you were a mere member of the staff instead of the owner’s actual son?”
His dubious look remained, despite the slightest hint of culpability now shining in his eyes.
“Or,” she continued, “how about when you made fun of me in front of your dad for accidentally tracking puddles through the house—which, by the way, I still don’t think I did? Or when you teased me for getting the century wrong for the medieval era? Or when you walked so close to me on your horse that I was sprayed with mud by his hooves? Oh, and then there was my favorite—your absolute guarantee that I would fail at my job here. How about any of those? Do they warrant an apology?”
They stared at each other, neither of them wavering, eyes unflinching until, to her surprise, his lip twitched, as if he were about to smile.
“I guess we’ve both said things to each other we probably shouldn’t have,” he finally muttered.
Woah, what? Were they actually progressing toward something of an amicable business relationship? She could hardly believe it had happened so quickly.
She had some charm after all.
“I guess, then, moving forward,” she began, “we can just promise to try our best not to tick each other off. It’ll make working together much easier that way.”
Just like that, the air between them shifted back to what it had been before, and Matthew’s stoic expression returned. He licked the corner of his mouth as his jaw shifted, then his eyes sharpened. “How did you find the festival?”
So that was his next angle—to find more ways to be offended by her. She had to play this right, or all hope would be lost with working amicably with the guy.
“I found it absolutely enlightening,” she stated.
“Enlightening,” he repeated.
“Yep.”
“That’s all you can say about it?”
She pressed her lips together. Speaking openly now, before they had even a chance to rebuild their tenuous relationship, wouldn’t help anything. But then, what would lying do?
“You want me to be honest?” she asked.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Okay,” she said. “Then I will be. I thought the jousting was absolutely incredible.”
He looked at her with a wary gaze, as if he knew she was buttering him up.
She might as well get this over with, then. “Be that as it may,” she continued, “there were significant flaws with the process and with the faire as a whole that took away from how much more incredible the event could be.”
Matthew pulled on a look of arrogance she knew was specifically to veil the offense he’d taken. “Flaws?”
“Yes, quite a lot of them.”
“For example?”
She shouldn’t be flirting with fire, but then, the man was sparking already. “Well, first thing I can think of off the top of my head, the main flaw is the obsession with historical accuracy.”
His jaw twitched.
“It has made the food unbearable and the activities lacking,” she continued. “The faire doesn’t have to be factual to be fun, you know? Have you ever even tried to put something in that wasn’t one hundred percent accurate?”
“Someone tried once,” he said. “Didn’t work out.”
“Hmm. That sounds like someone suggested something you didn’t approve of, and you didn’t even give it a fighting chance.”
He glanced away for the briefest of seconds, revealing her accuracy. “It doesn’t matter either way,” he said. “You’ll be proven wrong eventually.”
“Proven wrong about what exactly?”
“About the historical accuracy of the event,” he clarified. “And your belief that there are flaws here.”
She dropped her chin with a look of disbelief. “So you think there is absolutely nothing wrong with Foxwood or the faire… at all ?”
His jaw twitched beneath his beard again. She quite liked the look of it. She’d like it a lot more if, you know, he wasn’t absolutely furious with her.
“That’s correct,” he said stubbornly. “Absolutely nothing wrong at all. But there’s no point in discussing it further, as we’ll just continue to argue about it. Excuse me.”
He moved to the door, but Winnie took a step forward, stopping him. “Look, you told me to be honest. Would you rather I’d lied to you, told you it was absolutely perfect?”
He shot a frown at her. “I don’t need to be coddled with lies. But I also don’t need to hear your opinion on what you believe to be the truth. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Repeating his words more forcefully, he tried to step around her again, ready to enter his house, but indignation bubbled within Winnie.
What was she supposed to do? She had been hired to do a job, and Matthew was holding it against her. She really should let it go, and yet…
Her hand shot forward as if on its own accord, blocking him from going inside. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the door, then pulled it closed, directly in his face.
He stepped back, a startled look in his eyes as he peered down at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not done with our conversation yet,” she stated simply. “I wanted to talk with you so we could clear the air between us, but obviously, that’s not going to work as you seem to have a little bee under your bonnet that started buzzing the second you found out I was a consultant.”
Once again his jaw twitched. She wasn’t going to allow it to distract her this time.
“I’ll have you know,” she continued, “I don’t think it’s really fair of you to have made a snap judgment about me just because of my job title. ”
“And you think it’s fair for you to have made a snap judgment about my festival?”
She pulled back. “Of course not. And I didn’t. I made an informed decision after a great deal of research and observation.”
“As if a day could tell you all you needed to know.” He looked back at the door. “You may not be done, but I am.”
He opened the door again—Honestly, what witchery was he using to push it open so succinctly?—but once more, Winnie’s pride swelled. Before he could take a step inside, she moved forward and closed the door on him again.
His frown grew, his gaze penetrating hers with a scowl so intense, her heart stuttered. She could only imagine what she’d do if he eyed her that intensely with a look of something else…like admiration.
She blinked mutely at her rogue thoughts. They were to be coworkers. Anything else would be highly inappropriate.
“Why are you done?” she asked, focusing more intently on the conversation at hand. “Can’t you just talk to me about your concerns? What you’re worried about? What you’re angry about?”
He didn’t respond.
“Is it because you’re afraid?” she asked, knowing that would rile him up enough to give some sort of a response.
To her surprise, the anger dissipated in his expression, and he raised his chin with a calm sigh. “I won’t play your games, Miss Knox.”
“Winnie,” she corrected.
“Consultants are all the same,” he continued, as if not hearing her. “You all work the same.”
“And how do we work?” she asked.
“Without heart.”
Be like Fort Knox.
“Really?” she questioned.
“Yes. You come in, you decide what’s best for everyone, you make changes based on your opinion alone, then you say goodbye to anyone who can’t deal with it. It’s always the same.” He drew a step closer to her. “Just know, I’ll not allow you to sack a single soul.”
Winnie drew quiet breaths, strapping on more defenses one by one. For some reason, she had to do that more often with Matthew than with any other person she’d ever worked with before.
“I’m sorry you see me in such a way,” she said. “Because as I told you yesterday, that’s not how I work.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not,” he stated. “But it doesn’t matter. All I have to do is bide my time. You’ll be gone soon enough.”
Pride cinched around her heart, strapping it into place. “I can assure you, I’m here for the long haul.”
“We’ll see.”
He opened the door again. But Winnie, in all her impulsivity and ridiculousness, reached forward and pulled it shut once more.
He stared at her with a heavy sigh. “Is this what I’m to expect from now on? You controlling every little thing you don’t like that is happening?”
She smiled, attempting to lighten the mood, if only to make herself feel better from the lack of faith he had in her. “It all depends on if I get the help I need.”
He blew out a soft snort of derision. “Good luck with that.”
Now it was her time to blow out a breath. Honestly, this guy was going to be a lot of work. “Look, Matthew, what I saw at the faire back there?—”
“Festival,” he corrected.
“—was disappointing,” she continued. “There were so many flaws I noticed in the first few minutes, I almost gave myself carpal tunnel by writing them all down.” He didn’t like that. His frown made that clear enough. “But I also saw a lot of promising things, too. Honestly, there is no reason you guys shouldn’t be swimming in cash. ”
“And you think you’re the one to make that happen for us?”
“Yes,” she responded with confidence. “I am.”
“And what makes you any different than every other consultant my dad has hired before?”
“One thing,” she said, leaning forward. “I’m Winnie-Freakin’-Knox.”
She stared into his eyes, unfaltering, willing him to see how serious she was. He didn’t respond, though a strange twinkling shone in his eye. Was he amused? Impressed? She couldn’t tell. Either way, it was time to make her exit through the door.
And yet, just as soon as her hand touched the doorknob, she remembered…she didn’t know how to open the flipping thing.
She wiggled the handle down, then up, trying to mimic what Matthew had done, but the door remained closed. She could not have been more humiliated.
In a desperate attempt to escape, she jiggled the handle with more ferocity, but Matthew’s hand grasped lightly around her bare wrist, stopping her abruptly. She stared at his long, masculine fingers, their warmth radiating through her skin and up her arm as her heart thrummed uncomfortably against her chest.
She shouldn’t be feeling this way. She should be feeling nothing at all. And yet, heat swirled through her body like a whirlwind of fire, uncontrollable. All-consuming.
Did Matthew feel the same way?
Slowly, her gaze trailed up his flowing shirt before settling on his features. His eyes were already on her, deep and focused and unreadable.
The two of them stood close together, closer than she’d realized, and as they stared at each other, an undeniable energy passed between them.
Yes, he was feeling something, too. But neither of them should be. They were work associates, perhaps even enemies, the majority of their interactions filled with scathing words and scowls. And yet, all of those moments seemed to disappear as they stood before each other in silence .
Winnie swallowed, her throat growing dry. There was nothing more she wanted to do in that moment than to lick her lips to provide them some moisture.
No, that was a lie. There was something she wanted to do more.
With no further control over her sight, she felt her eyes drop to his lips, those perfect, masculine, appealing lips, and she stared at them until they moved.
“Up, then down,” he said, his voice gruff.
She blinked. Up, down, what? What was he talking about?
Finally, he released his grasp around her wrist and wrapped his fingers around the door handle instead. His hand moved up, then down, and the door opened.
He stood back, creating more distance between them. “Your door, Miss Winnie-Freakin’-Knox.”
A blush burned within her cheeks so deeply, she could have heated all of Foxwood with the fire radiating from them.
Without another look at him—or his lips—she entered the house, wiped her feet on the rug, and moved swiftly across the front hall, desperate to leave behind the fool she’d made of herself and the man who’d caused her to do so in the first place.