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CHAPTER ONE
LIE BY OMISSION
FELICITY
It’s been difficult to think of anyone but Sutton Landmark since we had an online meeting over a week ago.
His dark hair and his dancing brown eyes offsetting the serious but sensual line of his full lips made me want to know all his secrets. His ridiculously long eyelashes made him lookyounger than I know he must be since he’s a judge, and his gruff voice and all-business persona made my heart pound throughout the entire interview.
If I were a wiser person, I would’ve never agreed to a second interview with him. Especially after I looked him up online and fell down a Sutton Landmark picture trap for hours.
But if I’ve proven anything this year, it’s that I don’t always make the wisest decisions.
There’s also the fact that I need this job, and more than that, I need to get out of my brother Weston’s house.
I adore my brother, but he’s a quarterback for the Colorado Mustangs and never lacks company. The allure of being around his teammates all the time was fun for a couple of weeks, but since Weston is adamant about me not dating any of them, that cuts the fun down by at least half. Not to mention, he has a steady stream of women coming in and out of his bedroom, and I don’t think that will evernotbe awkward.
I’ve only been back in Silver Hills for a couple of weeks, but it’s felt so strange. Much different than all the times I visited when I was on break from Georgetown.
My parents can’t figure out why I haven’t just stayed with them, but I’m not ready to tell them that my plans have derailed considerably from what they’re expecting of me.
I need time to work up to that.
And working for Sutton in Landmark Mountain is the perfect way to bide my time.
I feel that way even more as I drive into the beautiful mountain town. It only takes an hour and a half to get here, and I enjoy the view. Silver Hills is beautiful, but the mountains feel even closer out here, and after being in D.C. for so long, I’m living for the mountains. After a grueling course load over the past four years, I think I’d enjoy anything that doesn’t involve my crowded room and cramming for tests. It’s the first weekin January, and shopkeepers are removing traces of Christmas from their sidewalks and front windows, replacing them with winter decor or Valentine’s Day decorations. There are so many cute shops, places I’d love to spend the day browsing…and maybe I’ll have a chance to do just that if I get this job.
When I pull into Sutton’s driveway, I sit and stare at the gorgeous house for a few minutes. There’s a small wooden sign out front that says Summit House, and the name is fitting for the regal house with unique roof peaks and windows galore. There’s water alongside the house, so much that I’m not sure if it’s part of the Blue River or a lake, but I could get lost in that view all day. Someone walks past the front window inside the house, and it spurs me into action. I get out of the car and walk up to the front door, knocking twice.
The door opens wide, and I stare unblinking for I don’t know how long…long enough that Sutton clears his throat and holds out his hand. We shake and neither of us speaks right away.
He’s the first to break the silence.
“It’s nice to meet you in person, Felicity Shaw,” he says.
It’s ridiculous the way my body reacts to his hand and his voice…and his eyes on me. Who knew I was into older men? That’s something I’ll have to get overimmediatelyif I’m going to be a nanny for his son.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Landmark.” I’m impressed with how calm I sound when my insides feel anything but.
“Call me Sutton,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Come on in.”
I follow him inside and take in the living room. The ceilings are high and there’s a large sectional with a chaise lounge on one end. I’ve always loved those. Next to that is a massive chair that looks like it would fit two people, and over the fireplace is an enormous TV screen. Bookshelves line either side of the fireplace and I’d love nothing more than to walk over there and see what kind of books Sutton Landmark reads.
I don’t even know the man beyond our one online meeting, but I think I’ve already figured him out in my head. He doesn’t seem snobbish, but he does seem proper. Even now, at two o’clock in the afternoon, he has a three-piece suit on, not a hair is out of place, and he smells like a heady combination of cedarwood and vanilla. I bet he only wears designer clothes and drinks $100 bottles of wine. I wonder if when his son is with his mom, he loosens up? Someone as good-looking as he is must have women rotating out of his bed like clockwork.
What kind of women does Sutton Landmark like?
“Have a seat,” he says.
My face heats with my thoughts and I try to focus on keeping this as professional as possible.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” He motions for me to sit on the couch, and it’s then that I notice a long charcuterie board full of deli meats, cheeses, dried fruit, and chocolate sitting on the large square ottoman between the two couches. An elegant silver bucket of ice, two glasses, and a pitcher of water are on a tray next to the food.
Mr. Landmark has expensive tastes.
“This looks amazing.”
“I can’t take credit for any of it. There’s a place in town called The Gnarly Vine, and I just toss everything on the board and call it a snack. I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten with the drive, and I worked through lunch.” He smiles slightly and motions behind him. “I have Coke, Sprite, apple juice, and water.” He motions toward the water on the ottoman.
