At the bottom of the steps, as Reid opened the car door for her, Deck called down the drive?—
“Call if ye need me.”
As the Jaguar pulled away, Eleanor glanced once in the rearview mirror—half expecting to see a phone lifted in the dark, someone watching from the curb.
No one was there.
Eleanor felt the smooth slide of the silk against her legs. She had a speech prepared. She had reasons, logic. But as Reid shifted gears, his hand brushing inches from her knee,the “practical” arguments in her head started to sound like a language she no longer spoke.
Deck stayed on the porch until the taillights disappeared.
Then he muttered to himself,
“Ah, Larry would’ve skinned me alive if I let ye walk blind into this.”
Larry.
Her father. Lawrence Harper, Attorney at Law, Charleston, SC.
Deck huffed softly.
“I’ve seen Lawrence Harper dismantle better men than Calloway for less,” he muttered. “If this lad breaks her heart, Sylva won’t be far enough away to hide him.”
A breeze moved through the trees along the ridge.
Deck’s gaze drifted toward the dark line of forest beyond the road.
Too still.
He stood there another moment.
Then he headed inside.
Later, he’d stop by Sullivan’s Brew.
16
The Overlook
The Jaguar curved up the private mountain drive, headlights sweeping across stone pillars at the entrance.
The restaurant revealed itself slowly—stacked river rock, dark timber beams, massive windows reflecting the last spill of sunset.
Below it, the Blue Ridge rolled in shadowed layers.
Blue.
Gray.
Endless mountains.
The sheer beauty of it stole whatever she’d been about to say.
“Oh.”
Reid glanced at her. “You’ve never been?”
“No.”
