She Hates Me Not: A Richer in Love Romance (8 page)

Even though they were exposed for all the world to see, being with Kip felt as intimate as if they were alone on her boat. 

Lou’s mind leapt forward to that possibility.  Not even Liam had been allowed onboard. But Kip wasn’t Liam, just like she wasn’t Catrella, and maybe those relationships had failed to ensure the real one succeeded.  It was how her mother always thought about things.  And her maw-maw.  And Moggie.

Smiling, she continued to hold Kip’s hand, and the sky didn’t fall.

I
f this was hate, Kip could get used to it.

But Lou didn’t hate him.  That much he could see.  She was more frightened than anyone he’d ever met, but she wasn’t frightened of him.  Of his world, maybe.  Of its paparazzi and his reputation and a mother who could send billionaire tycoons packing with her stare.

Their picture from the gala had driven Lou into a panic.  Kip needed to find out why.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is our third date in three days.  Am I any nearer to hearing your details?”

Lou removed her hand from his.  “Yesterday was not a date.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed.  “Although, I did invite you to dinner.  And I most certainly would have kissed you goodnight.”

Lou aimed all her attention at her half-finished lunch.  “You can ask me one question.”

Kip felt like he’d won the lottery.  Instead of rushing, he took a bite of food and chewed thoughtfully.  If it was too invasive, Lou might refuse to answer.  If it was too vague, he’d waste his chance.  He concentrated on narrowing his best options until Lou started to laugh.

“You look like you’re about to go
togué
,” she told him.  “Okay, you can ask me three.”

“And you pledge to answer truthfully?”

She held up a hand.  “
Je fais serment
.”

Kip grinned at her saucy promise to comply.  His grammar-school French might come in handy after all.  “How did you end up working at a café in Stratford?”

“When I was seventeen, we moved back to England.  Mama wanted to return to London, where she grew up.  About a month after we settled in, she started having dizzy spells.  At first she said it was stress, but then the spells got worse.  A few months after that she was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer.  Incurable.  It had metastasized everywhere.  She tried to fight it for a while.  Then it became a matter of waiting.”

Lou shared the details with a stiff upper lip which any Brit would admire.  She might panic a bit too easily.  She was anything but weak.

“My condolences,” he said.  “What about your father?”

“Daddy didn’t come over with us.  I have a sister who also stayed in the States.  She’s got cancer now, too.”

“Are you going to visit her?”

Lou shook her head.  “But you asked about the café.  I ended up at the café because Moggie came to Mama’s funeral.  They were best mates, as y’all say, growing up.  She offered me a job, and I accepted.”

“What about school?”

“I didn’t finish school.  I had one year left back home, and our school systems don’t really mesh.  So I spent what should have been my senior year in high school taking care of my mother in London.  After she died, going back to being a student seemed pointless.  So I guess I’m a high school dropout.  And I’m pretty sure that was three questions.”

“Four, actually, and here’s a fifth.  Why didn’t you tell me the truth on Saturday?  Why pretend to be someone you weren’t?  Did my mother put you up to it?  Or did you lie to her, too?”

“I think you’ve reached your limit, and so have I.”  Lou set down her empty wine glass, then drained what was left of her water.  “I should go.”

Kip didn’t hide his disappointment.  “To the café?”

“No, I’m going home.”

“May I walk with you?”

It wasn’t the question Kip wanted to ask, but the others were much too impulsive.  May I kiss you?  May I hold you?  May I walk you home always?  Or be there waiting when you arrive?

Lou’s silence let him know he’d crossed the line entirely.

“Sorry.  Sorry.  Wrong of me to ask.”

As Kip reached for the picnic hamper, Lou grasped his hand again.  She lifted her gaze toward the wispy leaves of the willow’s swaying limbs.  Her features softened with a penitent cast.

“Yes, please.  Walk me home, Kip.”

Kip wholeheartedly agreed.  He would agree to anything whenever Lou touched him. 

They repacked the hamper and recorked the wine.  After they’d finished, Lou folded the quilt into a tidy rectangle and rested it next to the tree.  The easels followed, along with Beryl’s painting.

“Shouldn’t we return all this?”

“I’ll text Beryl to let her know it’s here and we’re not.”  Lou pulled a black phone from the front pocket of her jeans.

Kip watched her depress its outmoded buttons at a painfully slow pace.  “When did you buy that mobile?  In 2005?”

“I bought it four months ago.  It was on special at Argos.”

“That’s not a phone,” he insisted.

“It makes calls.  It takes calls.  It’s a phone.”

“It’s the sort of phone that hooligans buy on American television programs.  They use it to arrange some mischief.  Then they toss it in a bin.”

Lou chided him with a look.  “It’s cheap, and it does what I need it to do.”

“At least you know no one will steal it.”

“Exactly.”  Putting it away, she knelt to reorganize the items beneath the tree so nothing would tip or spill.

Lou Aucoin was indeed a mystery.  Attentive and considerate.  Evasive and abrupt.  She wore a charity shop t-shirt and yesterday’s jeans.  She had a bargain-bin mobile and a taste for good wine.  Lou might have been nervous on Saturday night, but she’d behaved with a debutante’s grace.  She seemed utterly comfortable in her own skin, yet uncomfortable when anyone noticed it.

She was also, somehow, known by his mother.  That detail troubled Kip more than any Lou had shared.  He realized he was staring.

Lou offered her bashful smile.  “Are you ready?”

Kip swept his hand up her bare arm.  “Can I take you to dinner?”

“You just bought me lunch,” she reminded him.  “I think that’s enough
lagniappe
for one day.”

“Lahn-yap?”

“A little something extra.  Something unexpected.”

He passionately, and silently, disagreed.  “Does this mean we’re nearing the end of our date?”

“Shouldn’t a girl know about a date before it happens?”

“I’m afraid if you did, you might disappear like your…what did you call it?  The light in the swamp?”

“
Fifolet
.” 

“That’s it.”  Easing closer, Kip fingered a strand of hair that had escaped her plait.  “I’d really rather you not disappear.”

“
Allons
, Kip.”  She caught hold of his hand.  “Walk me home.”

They left the willow tree’s shade and headed upriver toward the boat club.  On the Avon’s north bank, tourists boarded a cruiser single file, clutching straw hats and rucksacks and ice cream cones.  Swans dodged couples who rowed by in hired canoes.  As they strolled down the pavement, Kip slackened his pace until he’d fallen behind.

Lou spun around.  “Have you lost a shoe?”

“My ankle’s playing up,” he fibbed.  “Best to take it slow.”

“You don’t strike me as a ‘take it slow’ kind of guy.”  She dragged him toward a trio of narrowboats moored along the bank.  “And besides, we’re already here.”

Kip glanced around.  “Here where?”

“Here home.”

He followed Lou’s pointing finger to the stunted deck of a narrowboat that had seen better years despite its relatively fresh coat of paint.  Purple panels along its walls and around its doors contrasted the green base and roof.  Its doors, accents, and name – EVANGELINE – shone brightly in bold yellow against the siding.  Aging or not, the boat’s exterior was tidy and lustrous in the sunlight. 

“You live on a canal boat?”

Lou was beaming.  “
Mais oui
.”

“All the time?”

“All the time for now.”

Kip guessed at its length.  Thirty feet seemed generous.  “I’ve ridden in limousines longer than this.”

“It’s more than enough for me.”

Lou spoke in a tone Kip hadn’t heard before – one that hinted she might be offended.  Perhaps women loved their boats with as much conviction as men loved their cars.

No, Kip reminded himself.  They loved their homes.  What served as a symbol of success for men was a cradle of creation for women.

And Lou’s boat was vibrant with life.  Atop its roof, herbs flourished in terracotta troughs which, Kip guessed, had been hand-painted by Beryl.  Colorful blooms spilled from ceramic teapots and jugs on the Evangeline’s rear deck.  Fairy lights framed the entryways, and lanterns dangled from stakes at both ends.  By night the Evangeline would be magical – as magical as its owner who frowned at Kip with blatant disappointment.

“Why is this so shocking to you?” Lou asked.

“It’s not shocking at all.”  Kip touched her arm to reassure her.  “Well, it’s…it’s charming, isn’t it?”

“I thought you were making fun of her.”

“Not at all.  It’s perfect, actually.  Should I address you as ‘captain’?”

Lou laughed with relief.  “If you do, I’ll answer.  I grew up on the bayou.  Living like this reminds me of home.  I’d spend hours floating in our pirogue, letting the water take me wherever it wished.”  Tilting her face to the sky, Lou closed her eyes like she was remembering.

Kip rested a finger beneath her chin.  Lou didn’t move.  When he brushed a thumb across her lips, they parted.  Cupping her cheek, Kip kissed her gently until she pressed forward.  Her hands slid around his waist to fasten at his back.  Eagerly Lou deepened their kiss.

Kip reveled at the release it brought him.  He felt the same rush of pleasure, the same absence of ache that he’d sought from lesser pursuits.  Unlike those false lovers, Lou carried him aloft without cutting him loose.  She broadened his world but not its burdens. He felt hypnotized and wide awake.

When their kiss ended, Kip held her close.

“Permission to come aboard?” he whispered.

A
s good as it felt to be held by Kip, Lou couldn’t help tensing in his arms.

It wasn’t the kiss.  She’d been looking forward to another of those ever since the first one ended.  But the idea – no, the reality – of letting someone else into her world made her edgy and insecure.

Or maybe it was the thought of what more might happen if she said yes and let him aboard.

It hadn’t been forty-eight hours since she’d climbed into that limousine.  Now here she was kissing Kip Richmond beside the Avon again.  This time, however, it was broad daylight.  No telling who watched.  Kip wasn’t incognito, and snap-happy tourists swarmed the north bank.  One photo, one tweet, and it was all over.  She didn’t need to end up in the papers twice in the same week.

“Not today, Kip.”

“Someday?”

“Maybe.”

“Like tomorrow?”

“Kip…”

The blast of a boat horn made Lou jump three feet in the air.  Separating from Kip, she focused on the closest narrowboat and not the other hundred pairs of eyes also staring in her direction.

Mrs. Humpage stood grinning on the aft deck of the Jenny Wren.  A massive hat smothered with plastic sunflowers shaded her shoulders and face.  With a gloved hand, she brandished a pair of gardening shears.

Kip waved like he’d known her forever.  “Is this the neighbor?”

“For the moment.”  Lou plastered a smile on her face.  “Hi, Mrs. Humpage!”

“Hello, pet!  Lovely weather for a Monday!”

“Yes, lovely!” Lou called back.  The Brits had their share of rituals.  Discussing the weather ranked number one.  And two.  And three.  “So far, it’s been a beautiful summer!”

“Yes, but they’re saying rain tomorrow,” Mrs. Humpage cautioned. “Best take your wellies to work.”

Lou gave a thumbs-up.  “Will do!”

Kip turned his back on the Jenny Wren.  “Are you sure I can’t have a tour?  I promise not to touch anything without your permission.”

Forcefully he stuck his hands in his pockets, but if Kip was trying to look innocent, he failed.  The bedroom eyes blew his cover – along with his been-there, done-that, bought-the-Renoir
savoir fare
.

Lou crossed her arms in a lame attempt to ward off temptation.  For good measure she took a step back.  One more, and she’d be aboard the Evangeline.  Her safe zone.  Home base.  Or den, as the Brits called it. 

“I’m a good Catholic girl,” Lou told him.  She made sure to smile.  “We’re raised to wait.”

Kip stared at her lips.  “I’m a not-so-good Anglican boy and rather poor at waiting.”

“Didn’t the priest teach you that patience is a virtue?”

“You see, that’s the thing.”  With a stride Kip closed the gap between them.  “I’m not impatient.  I can queue up with the best of them when it’s for something routine.”

Gently he pried free one of Lou’s hands and enclosed it in both of his.  His thumb massaged her palm in feather-light strokes.  His roguish look grew hungry.

“It’s the grand discoveries that make me want to rush,” he whispered.  “The unexpected treasures one never sees coming.”

As his fingers caressed hers, Lou felt herself melt.  Kip’s touch was as potent as a Pat O’s hurricane, and his voice resonated like Palm Court jazz.  She tilted as though she was adrift at sea.

“You keep talking like this,
mon cher
, and you may not have to wait.”

Kip drew her hand to his chest.  “Challenge accepted.  Can I see you tomorrow, captain?”

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow.  What was tomorrow?  Lou blinked while she tried to remember.  Was she really going to refuse Kip today?

“I’m working tomorrow,” she said. “From 7 a.m. until closing.  I cook the specials on Tuesdays so Beryl gets a break.”

“Can I take you to dinner?”

“Not tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Kip pressed.  “We can go wherever you like.  Make it an early night if you need.”

“Because…”

Rescuing her hand, Lou grappled for an excuse that just wouldn’t come.  She wanted everything Kip offered.  Dinner tonight.  Dinner tomorrow.  And all the hours in-between.

“Because I hate you.  Remember?”

“I thought you were only supposed to hate me.  And there was also mention of mere dislike.”  Kip twirled one finger through a coil of hair that had snuck loose from Lou’s braid.  “Have I been demoted?  Will I be forced to swab the deck?”

As his face dipped toward hers, Lou turned her head.  “Kip, it’s just not a good time.”

Instantly he eased back.  His hands returned to his pockets.  “Is it the photograph?”

“The what?”

“From the newspaper.  The picture of us.  It’s not like that all the time.  Not anymore.”

Slack-jawed, Lou just listened.

“Obviously it upset you.  I wasn’t boasting.  I can see that you like your privacy.”

That’s a whopping understatement, Lou wanted to say, stacked on top of an epic deception.

“I just hope it won’t keep you from believing we might have something real here.  Because as irrational as it sounds, as impulsive as it seems, I like you, Lou.  Very much.  Even if you do hate me.”

“Kip, I don’t…”  She stopped herself from admitting what he’d already guessed.  This was supposed to be easy.  One and done.  Instead, she careened dangerously toward feelings that ran even deeper than Kip’s.

“Call me should you change your mind about dinner,” he said.  “That is, if you still have my number.”

Lou pulled out her phone and navigated to its contacts menu.  Selecting
KP
, she showed it to Kip as proof.  The “I hate you” ruse had pretty much run its course, and Lou couldn’t bear the downcast look on his face.

“Good.”  With a revitalized smile, Kip shuffled toward the sidewalk.  “That’s good.  Thank you for letting me walk you home.  Don’t disappear.”

Vowing that she wouldn’t, Lou watched him stroll away until plastic sunflowers occupied her peripheral vision.  Mrs. Humpage still loitered on the Jenny Wren’s aft deck which faced the Evangeline’s bow.  She’d traded her shears for a trowel and studied Kip with matronly interest.

“Well, he’s a lovely fellow.”

“Yes, he is,” Lou agreed.  A lovely fellow who could mesmerize her with his touch.  Although she’d managed, somehow, to refuse Kip this once, Lou doubted it would happen twice. 

Electric fencing around the boat decks might be an option.  Surveillance cameras.  Trained attack dogs.  And statues of the Blessed Virgin on display in every available space.

“I say, he looks rather familiar,” Mrs. Humpage observed.  “Is he anyone we should know?”

“He’s Britain’s most uncatchable bachelor,” Lou admitted.

“Really?”  Mrs. Humpage clapped a hand to her hat as she reared her head for a better look.  “Is that one of those reality TV programs?  I understand the prizes can be quite nice.”

Laughing, Lou checked the time on her phone.  It was still four hours until dinner.  Two-hundred and forty minutes to let Kip’s number burn a hole in her pocket.  Plus two-hundred and forty more until she could rule out drinks at the pub or a sunset walk along the river.

As she opened the bow doors leading into the cabin, Lou wondered how Kip would stay busy the rest of the day.  His job must require some effort, even if he wasn’t rushing back to London.  He also wasn’t hanging around Stratford for the culture.

When she pictured Kip wasting time in town, Lou felt a strange blend of craving and disbelief.  Kip Richmond liked her.  Very much.  Britain’s most uncatchable bachelor was crushing on a
fille
from St. Charles Parish.

“I consider this a breach of contract.”

Lou let out a yelp as she braced herself on the doorframe.  The uncatchable bachelor’s unflappable mother sat at the built-in booth which doubled as Lou’s dining room.  Nursing a cup of milky tea, Lydia Richmond stared with venomous condemnation while Lou tried to catch her breath.

“How did you know this was my boat?”

“Like I told you yesterday, you’re not as off the grid as you believe.”  Lydia’s silk business suit matched the shade of her tea.  “You are also continuing to see my son.”

Still flustered, Lou checked the rest of the cabin.  No one was in the kitchen or bedroom.  Lydia appeared to be alone, and her bodyguard wouldn’t fit though the doorway anyhow.

“I thought I told you to have no further contact with Kipling.  One and done – wasn’t that our agreement?”

“I haven’t welched,” Lou insisted.  “But Kip keeps showing up on my doorstep.  I’m still holding up my end of the bargain.”

“Not as tightly as you were holding my son just now.  I thought you hated him.”

Lou wished they were having this conversation anywhere else.  The Evangeline was her territory, and Lydia’s presence made her anxious.  Guests waited for an invitation.  Even neighbors knocked on the screen door before letting themselves inside.  This was an ambush, not a visit.

“I do hate the Kip Richmond in the tabloids – the spoiled, heir-to-a-fortune playboy.  But the real Kip is nothing like that.  And he knows something’s up between you and me.  He asked about it today.”

With her left hand, Lydia held up a smartphone.  Her right index finger hovered above a red circle.

“If I press this, the money transfer is cancelled.”

Lou shifted her gaze to the assortment of photos displayed on a corner table.  All were pictures from better times in faraway places.  Amy’s radiant face and golden hair stood out like sunshine among clouds.  Most photos contained their parents also.  As a foursome they posed on ski slopes and tropical beaches.  At cruise ship formals and crawfish boils.  Communions, too, and Mardi Gras.

Those days had come to an abrupt and ugly end.  Lou lost her mother.  Then her father.  Now it was Amy’s turn.

When irrepressible sorrow welled up inside Lou, she didn’t try to hide her tears.  Kip wasn’t to blame for her
misère
.  Lou made a deal with the devil, just like her daddy had done, and brought this bad
gris gris
on herself.

“What do you want?”

Lydia set her phone on the table.  “Because you put Catrella in her place at the gala, I’m giving you one last chance.  No more contact with my son or I cancel the transfer.  Understand?”

“I won’t contact Kip,” Lou promised.  “That doesn’t mean he won’t contact me.”

“Haven’t you told him you hate him?”

“At least once a day since we’ve met.”  The admission made her mood sink lower.

“Perhaps you’re saying it with too little conviction.”

“Or maybe you picked the wrong mystery date.  Why set Kip up with a stranger who hates him?  Why not let him find a nice girl on his own?”

“This isn’t about matchmaking.”  Lydia tapped her fingertips against the saucer’s rim.  “I knew Catrella would be at the gala.  She spent her last penny to buy that ticket in the hopes of enticing Kip back into her life.  Whilst I know Kipling to be a very good person, he is not as resilient as his brother.  Catrella is no actress, but she’s as devious as they come.”

“It takes one to know one.”  Soon as she said it, Lou clapped a hand to her mouth.  Her mama would not approve.  Neither would Maw-Maw.  Or Moggie.

Sliding free of the seat, Lydia judged Lou with something milder than disdain.  “I will deal with my son.”  She moved purposefully toward the doorway.

Lou squeezed behind the fuel stove to let Lydia pass.  “You may have to hog-tie Kip to a chair because he’s not giving up easy.”

“What an appealing image.”  As Lou followed her onto the foredeck, Lydia didn’t glance back.  “Forgive me if I choose a different route.”

Without a bobble or pause, Lydia crossed onto the riverbank.  The soles of her leather pumps chaffed the pavement as she marched away with the stiff-shouldered resolve of a military general.  She headed for the foot bridge and probably a chauffeured car parked somewhere beyond.

Shading her eyes with her hand, Lou glanced around for the bodyguard – Yannick.  Was he employed only for special occasions?  Did he wait in the car like an aging parent?  Or was he better at staying hidden than Lou assumed?

If she was underestimating Yannick, then Lou had overestimated herself.  In just forty-eight hours, Lydia Richmond had located Lou’s phone number and off-the-grid home without breaking a sweat or a nail.

When Lou returned to the cabin, she latched the double doors behind her and closed all the drapes.  Plopping onto the seat where she’d discovered Kip’s mother, Lou made herself breathe deeply.  Lydia’s perfume lingered in the limited space.  It seemed too floral and delicate for such a sharp-edged woman.

Like her scent, Lydia’s threat to take back the money wasn’t fading anytime soon.  The penalty was extreme and completely unfair.  Not once had Lou tried to find Kip after the gala while he stuck to her like white on rice.

Don’t disappear
, Kip had told her.  It was all Lou wanted to do.  To float downriver in the filmy twilight while stars twinkled to life overhead.  To let the untamed forests absorb her.  To vanish like a ribbon of mist.