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But then I realized. Harriet was here. He had to keep up the act.
Yes, that was the reason for it. He really should try to get himself an agent when this was all over, he was better than any man I’d ever performed with.
“I’m fine,” I said, coming off harsher than I intended.
Duke frowned, first at me, then down at my leg.
“I swear if you’re even thinking of carrying me inside, I’ll break your kneecaps,” I snapped.
Interestingly, this didn’t infuriate him into letting me go or hating me. Instead, his hand moved to the back of my neck and he chuckled before he leaned in to kiss my forehead.
Kiss. My. Forehead.
“Plus, you can’t carry her in!” Harriet yelled. “You have bags to take, we have wine to drink. You two can canoodle later. Me and Anastasia are getting wine drunk.”
Duke was still smiling when he moved his lips from my forehead. Still, he didn’t let me go. He moved his hand to my hip, squeezing it in a way that hurt a little and held way too much promise.
“You go and get wine drunk with my grandmother. I’ll take care of the bags.”
I tried to move out of his grip. It only tightened.
“But not too drunk that you’re not prepared for later.”
I blinked rapidly and my stomach dipped. “Later?” I hated that my voice was all breathy.
“Yeah, your punishment for this morning,” he said, pulling me in, speaking low. “You didn’t think I was really gonna let you get away with that shit, did you, sweetheart?”
His lips brushed mine softly. I let that happen.
“I see too much canoodling and not enough carrying,” a voice called.
I was grateful to Harriet for many things already, but for this, I loved her fully.
As it was, Duke’s muttered promise of “later” didn’t come to pass.
I told myself repeatedly that this was a good thing, that this was the best thing, the only thing that would keep me sane in this place.
I didn’t know how long I was going to be here for, but the only thing worse than acting like I was someone to Duke in front of his family was him acting like I was something to him when no one else was around.
Harriet was my lifesaver. My hero.
Not just because of the cabin.
And this brought me to tears. Actual tears. Ones I’d been sure I’d never be able to spill unless a camera was rolling somewhere.
“Of course, we have this cleaned on a weekly basis,” Harriet said after she opened the door and ushered me inside. “Just in case…” she trailed off, her eyes darting to the window where Duke was visible unpacking the car. As macho and as scary as he was, even he wasn’t about to try and argue with his grandmother.
She was strong, seemed so solid. So even. But I saw it with that glance out the window. The pain in her eyes. The love. There were wounds in this family. Gaps.
And they all seemed to be centered around Duke.
Harriet didn’t give me much time to contemplate this because she recovered quickly, moving to fluff some pillows on the white-slip sofa.
“But there were some touches I wanted to make before you both came in.”
She was already walking toward the kitchen.
The living room and kitchen was open plan. After walking through the small but beautifully decorated foyer, you faced a wall of windows, showing the beauty of the ranch.
The living room was similar to the one at the homestead, all earth-toned, slightly bohemian, warm, inviting, impeccably decorated in a way even a celebrity designer couldn’t replicate. More photos in frames on every surface, including a few artfully arranged on the hammered white concrete coffee table. Another impressive, stone fireplace with photos on the mantel. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling looked like it was covered in multiple candles.
I ached to take my time, explore every inch of this home that was made for Duke—because even on first glance, it was him. Despite the fact I didn’t even really know him, it was. It wasn’t harsh, masculine, in grays and sharp angles. No, it was a side of him that no one would likely ever know—only a woman who was soft, kind, and knew how to coax all of that out of him. It wasn’t me.
Harriet wasn’t about to let me soak it all in.
“I had to stock the essentials,” she called from the fridge, which, from where I could see, was fully stocked. When I came closer, there was an entire shelf filled with champagne.
A loud pop reverberated through the room as she opened one. “We’ve got to christen it,” she said with a pause and a wicked grin. “Well, of course you and Duke can christen it properly later, but that’s after the champagne.”
She reached into a cupboard to retrieve flutes, pouring expertly before handing me one.
