AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But that doesn’t tell me much about what he does, or who he really is.
“A doctor, surgeon!” I blurt out, quickly changing it to, “Lawyer,” then “Banker.” Watching his face twist and contort as he chuckles to himself, holding up both hands in surrender.
“None of those,” he says, matter of fact. “But my last name’s Fox,” he adds cryptically, looking deeper into my eyes as if it should mean something.
It’s a perfect name for him, but I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to react.
Mr. and Mrs. Conor Fox maybe? But I dunno if we’re quite there yet.
Not at this rate.
Valentine suddenly barks, and trots over, nuzzling his master’s leg. Maybe jealous at being left out of our little game of twenty questions.
“Well? I can’t guess. Maybe you’re more mysterious than I first thought,” I admit.
“Mysterious?” he exclaims with some excitement, leaning over. “Tell me more about just how mysterious I am.”
“And exciting,” I blush, feeling that familiar thrill rising in me again, the energy between us going back to where I know we both like it.
“Handsome?” he asks, and laughs loudly, making a joke at his own expense but he doesn’t even know just how handsome he is.
Doesn’t seem to know just how much of an effect he’s having on me.
Chapter Eight
Conor
I can’t eat another bite once she tells me.
It feels like every time something good happens to me, there’s always a price.
Except for Valentine. He came with no strings, no dues payable.
But I almost groan aloud when Rachel tells me who her father is, not to mention the fact she’s moving away the day after tomorrow.
Who the fuck moves in February?
But David Beckett’s daughter? What are the odds?
I can tell it’s confused her, my reaction. But I’m not going there.
Not just yet.
I’ll hold back some things for now, but I can’t deny my need to touch her a moment longer.
My hand covers hers, giving it a little squeeze of reassurance.
My problems aren’t her problems, and I’m grateful once she deliberately changes the subject.
Looking down at Valentine, I think he knows the odds. He’s the one who went out and found her, brought her to me.
Something I’ll owe him for the rest of my life.
We both laugh for a while as she tries to guess some more about me for a change. She makes me sound so exciting.
“I’m an architect,” I finally tell her, watching her eyes grow wide.
“No way so’s my dad,” she says excitedly.
“I know,” I hear myself murmur, hoping she hasn’t caught it, but she has.
She glances at me sidelong for a moment, then shifts her view to the garden and then back inside to the house.
“He’s more a designer now though,” she adds tactfully. “His new job, it’s with a foreign company, designing.”
Feeling myself nodding slowly, I’m not surprised. David could always do amazing stuff. He just never had the confidence to go out on his own.
Never forgave me when I did either. Probably still blames me for everything too. But Rachel doesn’t know any of that, not as far as I can tell.
I know what she’s thinking though, architects don’t all live in houses like this.
There are architects, and then there are architects I guess.
But I suddenly don’t feel like talking about myself anymore. Not what I do anyway. I want to know more about Rachel Beckett, the one that doesn’t have her father attached to her in my mind.
It takes some time, but we slip away from the uncomfortable conversation and into easier things. She tells me about her own studies at college, her interest in history and maybe wanting to write books of her own someday.
I feel Valentine laying down, his muzzle across my feet, and before long he’s snoring happily, giving little yelps and twitches as he jerks in his sleep, dreaming. As glad to be home as I am to have him with me again.
Even more glad that Rachel’s here too now.
We talk long enough for the food to get cold, but both hungry enough again to start to pick at it after what must be hours.
It’s getting darker outside, the afternoon light fading into evening in what feels like seconds.
“I never finished drying my clothes,” she gasps, suddenly breaking the spell that’s been us just sitting, chatting like old friends for hours.
“I know,” I confess, cocking my brow and not caring if she sees my eyes moving down to her chest again.
Something I’ve been careful to take in in small doses when she’s not looking, but damn if this girl isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I guess I should-” she starts to say, but I don’t let her finish.
I won’t let her say it.
“I don’t want you to go, Rachel,” I tell her. Hoping I don’t sound like too much of a lunatic but it’s true.
I don’t ever want her to go, not anywhere ever again, not without me and Valentine.
