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“Who do you think?” She twists her lips—part smile, part scoff.
“Should I know?”
“I don’t know, should you? You made it to my house, after all.”
My eyes dart around, taking in the swatch of living room I see behind her. “Your house? Are—You can’t be…”
Her face hardens.
“Are you June?”
She blinks twice. It’s condemning. “I am June. Are you Burke?”
“Yeah.” I take a small step back, then try to peek into the house behind her. “Where are Oliver and Margot?”
“I’m sorry,” she drawls. “I had them dressed in Sunday best for you, but…” She turns around to look behind her, and her tone is so deadpan that I think she’s serious and wonder if the tea and cornbread lady called her. Then she swivels to face me. Her eyes narrow. “I’m not super sure that’s really your business. You…were out of town for a while? Traveling for work, is that right?”
Anger and shame make my face hot. “Yes. I have a job. It takes me out of the country at times, sometimes for a few weeks.”
“Okay.” Her eyes fall to her feet before returning to mine. Jesus Christ, she’s gorgeous. Her sister and my brother had a spur-of-the-moment, destination wedding, so I never got to meet her, but still—how did I not know this?
“Let me cut to the chase, June.” I fumble for a second—probably because she’s looking into my eyes now like she can see my fucking secrets. “June, I—” Fuck, she’s gorgeous. It’s unnatural. “I came here because I want to bring the kids back home,” I manage.
Her eyebrows pinch; they’re dark and delicate…and angry.
“Home to San Francisco,” I add. “You know, they grew up there. It’s their home. My brother’s house hasn’t been sold yet. I could move them back into it. Re-enroll them in their school, where they’ve been going for…a lot of years.”
“How many years, would you say?” She leans her shoulder on the door frame, folds her slender arms under her breasts. Whoa, they’re nice and…ample.
I blink. She’s giving me a death stare. “Sorry. I—what does it matter? How many years? I didn’t do the math on that,” I say, sounding a bit defensive. “They went to that school since they were little. Like, one year old.”
“Try three and a half.” She winks. “Before that, my sister was at home with them. After that, in fact, she was at home with them. Neither child went to ‘that school’—which, by the way, is named Bay Area Friends—for the entire day until age five.”
Okay. Clearly I’ve underestimated her. I straighten my shoulders, try to regroup. So she’s attractive and passably articulate. So the fuck what?
“I don’t know what your point is. My point is I can take them back to the place they know. To their house, where all their stuff is.”
“Actually it’s in crates, being shipped here. Where they live now.” She arches an eyebrow.
“They don’t have to live here. That’s my point, June. You don’t have to take them in. I want to do that. And listen, if you’ve factored in the insurance money…” I pull out my wallet. Give her my yessir-I’ll-do-right-by-you look—the one I use on big investors. “I can give you that, too.”
She throws her head back…laughing? Fuck, she is. She’s fucking laughing at me.
She squeezes her eyes shut, gives a little shake of her head. Then she looks at me like she’s trying to murder me with pupil lasers.
“Listen, buster. I don’t know who you are or where you come from. I mean, I know, but I don’t really know. And I don’t want to.” She twists her lips, like she just tasted something sour. “Sutton told me about Asher’s family.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and shuts her eyes for just a second, clearly trying to muster up some resolve. Then she heaves a breath out, looks me level in the eye again with a gaze that’s just a fraction warmer this time.
“I don’t know you, okay, Burke? So I’m going to just assume that you have great intentions. Get them back into ‘that school,’ let them keep on living in that giant, empty house my sister had to have a fulltime housekeeper to take care of. Cooks in the kitchen. You can do that. And you want to. Because they’re your niece and nephew. Okay. Capiche. That’s great. But let me tell you something. I was in their will, listed as their guardian. I was. I, who work from home, at something stable. Sutton knew what they would need, and she knew I could give it to them here. Where she herself grew up. It’s quiet, it’s—” She shakes her head with a look of disgust. “I don’t have to sell you on this. You don’t have to understand. I get it, it’s not San Francisco. Thank God.”
