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I pause in front of Rowan’s office when I hear him talking on the phone. Some might call it eavesdropping, but I, on the other hand?—
Okay, yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.
I peer around the corner, and a rush of awareness floods my body when I catch sight of him in slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. No matter what I think of my future husband and his irritating mood swings, he’s undeniably handsome.
“I can’t believe you would agree to that without asking me first,” he grits. “What’s gotten into you?” He pauses as if listening. “Fine. I’ll make it happen, but you should know I’m not fucking happy about it, Everett.”
He slams his phone down on the desk, hanging his head with a heavy sigh.
I hesitate before lightly tapping on the office door. “Hey.”
Snapping his gaze up, he stands and brushes a hand through his disheveled hair. “Hey. Sorry if you overheard that. Between Everett and Lucas’s antics, I can never catch a break.”
Spikes of hair curl at the top of his head, as if he’s been combing his fingers through it for hours, looking every bit the worried father.
“Is everything okay?”
He glares at the papers on his desk. “Yes, but it looks like we’ll be making a trip to Seattle soon.”
“We? As in, me and you?”
My arms fall limply to my sides, but Rowan straightens, assuming his usual composure. “What, you thought I’d leave you here by yourself?”
After how upset he was with me, followed by the silent treatment, I guess I had.
“It’s about time someone showed you what’s outside of this town.” His tone carries a trace of disgust that rankles, but he stuffs his phone into his pocket and meets me at the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
I trail after him to the veranda on the west side of the manor while tiny sparks of anger lick at my insides. “You’re so quick to judge this place, but you haven’t even given it a chance.”
“Magnolia Creek isn’t anything special. I’ve been to plenty of towns just like it, and they’re all the same.” He’s apathetic, merely stating those facts of his. “The quirky gossips, the bakeries, flower shops, and bed and breakfasts. Everyone knows everyone, and once in a while, there’s a town wide festival that’s so heartwarming, it brings in travelers from all over.”
The back of my neck heats, and I grind my teeth in silence as we stop at the double doors leading outside.
He scowls when I don’t fire back a smart-ass response. “This is the part where you tell me all the painfully predictable reasons why I’m wrong.”
“Why should I waste my breath?” I grab the handle before he so much as flinches for it. “You’ve clearly made up your mind about my home. What more can I say that would convince you to appreciate it?”
“Wait.” His palm cups my hand before I can yank it open, and he shakes his head at himself. “I’m sorry, okay?”
He sounds like Garrett, making snide remarks about the things that are important to me, then wiping them away with a half-hearted apology.
Before now, I would brush his comments off, but my indignation outweighs my patience. He’s constantly shutting me out while making demands for one thing or another, but things are going to change around here, whether he likes it or not.
This kitten’s showing some teeth, starting today.
“Maybe you should consider the power of your words and the impact they have on others,” I say. “There’s no taking them back, no matter how much we might regret them, and sorry doesn’t fix shit if you don’t actually mean it.”
Rowan releases my hand, and though he’s not happy about it, he doesn’t argue when I finally open the door and step outside. The veranda faces acres of luscious green land, arching trees, and a stunning view of the lake behind the other homes on the property.
Early spring is in the air, bringing a calming breeze and flowers to the gardens surrounding the estate, but it’s my best friend, wearing a navy pantsuit with her hair neatly slicked back in a bun and a pair of fake glasses, that has my attention.
She sits cross-legged in a cushioned chair beneath the shade and over-exaggerates her voice when she gestures to the couches in front of her. “Mr. Kendrick, Ms. Hart, please, have a seat.”
Refusing to look at me, Rowan moves two cushions down, and I roll my eyes when she arches a brow.
“All right.” She grabs the folder sitting beside her and sets it on her lap. “My name is Elaina Davenport, and I’ve been a board-certified marriage counselor for the last ten years. I’ll be interviewing you both for your premarital counseling this morning.”
Rowan tips his head. “I’m sorry… but do I know you?”
