Page 4 of Haden

Chapter 2

Emilia

* * *

I’m glad I ate before Haden arrived because there’s no way I could possibly swallow right now. It’s a wonder I’m making any sense when I speak.

Why does he have to be so damn sexy? Every inch of him. He’s tanned and fit with brown hair, always maintaining what I call the two-day-old beard. I suppose it’s probably more like a week, but he keeps it groomed. I’ve wanted to touch it since the first time I met him.

I can tell he’s overwhelmed. I know Brody told him some things, but Haden seems to be rather uninformed about other aspects of this mansion. He’s genuinely shocked to realize he’s welcome to join us for meals. It would be silly for him to shop and cook his own food in that tiny RV while a full spread is available a few yards away.

Granted, he might choose a room in the mansion. But I doubt it. I suspect he’ll want some privacy and quiet. He won’t get that in this monstrosity.

For my own sanity, when Brody returns to the kitchen and starts talking to Haden, I slip out of the room. I need to breathe. I’m not sure I have since he arrived.

I don’t know what possessed me to rush outside and greet him. That was madness. I should have let Brody handle it and found a way to casually bump into Haden later.

But no… I was eager and not thinking clearly. When his truck pulled up, I darted out of the kitchen with Brody. Hopefully, my brother thought I was simply being friendly and a good hostess. I don’t need him finding out I’ve had the hots for his friend for four years.

I head for the library. It’s quiet in here. Well, quieter. I can still hear the hum of voices coming from the kitchen. I shuffle toward the windows, lean against the sill, and stare out at the expanse of land that my grandfather once owned.

It’s so strange. None of us ever met the man while he was alive. We didn’t even know anything about him. My father and his three brothers left this estate almost fifty years ago and never returned. None of their wives ever met Amos Wilde. To my knowledge, not one grandchild ever came here. Why?

Our parents are rather tight-lipped about the subject. It’s like they have some odd pact between them. They moved away and never returned for a reason, though.

I need to put some distance between me and Haden. It’s foolish for me to fawn over him. He probably thinks I’m still a kid. If anything, he’s humoring me with his politeness. I never should have mentioned my infatuation with him to the other women. I should have kept it to myself. Now they’re going to get nosy and ask questions and probably push me toward him.

The idea is horrible. I’ll end up getting hurt. The only way to protect my heart is to stop thinking of Haden as someone who could possibly ever see me as anything other than Brody’s annoying little sister.

It doesn’t matter that I’m a grown woman, and I was over eighteen the first time I met him. He’s twice my age. He would never be interested in someone like me.

After wandering along the rows of books, I slide one out of its snug spot and carry it over to the armchair under the window. I like to sit here occasionally. It’s relatively peaceful when no one else is around. I can curl up in the chair, see the estate out the window, and read.

Today, I fail, though. I can’t focus. I let the book fall into my lap and stare out the window yet again. Until voices jar me from my wandering thoughts.

Glancing over my shoulder, I find Brody and Haden entering the library. Brody is yammering about the structural concerns he has with this room. I assume he’s giving Haden a tour of the mansion so he’ll have the basic lay of the land.

Brody notices me first. “Hey, squirt.”

I roll my eyes as I uncurl my legs and sit up taller. “Stop calling me that.” He and Dallas nicknamed me “squirt” when I was a newborn, and they refuse to let it go.

Brody snickers. “Never. It’s ingrained. Just like all the times you projectile vomited formula when you were a baby.” He fake shudders. “You earned that name. You’re stuck with it.”

As if I wasn’t already concerned about Haden thinking of me as a baby, Brody is not helping the matter at all. On top of that, my face flushes. I can’t stop it. I’m embarrassed. Is it really necessary to share my formula allergy with everyone we meet?

Haden is staring at me. He’s not laughing with Brody, though. His brow is furrowed, and his lips are flat. That doesn’t really mean anything. It’s his usual look. Serious. Pensive. Perhaps even aggravated. Though I’m not sure why he often has that expression. It’s possible he finds me to be a nuisance and sets his face like that only when I’m around.

The thought makes my face heat further. Fuck.

“I’m just giving Haden a tour. Shouldn’t take more than about a week,” Brody jokes. But suddenly his phone buzzes, and he digs it out of his pocket. He reads a text and cringes before lifting his gaze to Haden. “Sorry. I need to go help Melody.” Shifting his attention to me, he continues, “Would you mind giving Haden the tour? We’ve barely started.”

Me?

I try not to react to his suggestion. Not physically, anyway. I just spent the last hour or so sitting here reinforcing the fact that I should stay away from Haden. Now I’m tasked with spending the afternoon with him? Fuck.

Haden’s brows lift at my hesitation. Is he smirking again?

I stand and set my unread book on the chair. “Sure. No problem. Is Melody sick?”