Heat fills my body, blistering my every inch, so I untangle one arm from around the binder and make sure my hair is covering my ears as I say, “I’ll expect a better proposal later, when you know I’ll say yes.”
“Of course.”
“To better your chances, don’t you dare propose on one knee with a ring.”
“I wouldn’t dream of being so unoriginal.”
Forgetting myself, and the blaze I was just trying to hide, I smile over my shoulder at him, then I hurry to my car and head home.
Chapter 14
?
My saintly hands mustn’t touch broad, bare male back.
August
“This is…something,” Dominic murmurs, occupying my kitchen as he prepares food for our picnic this afternoon.
Perhaps overeager, I’m already ready to go. Bag packed with my towel and sunscreen. Sun hat atop my head. Sunflower-scattered sundress swishing around my ankles, over my bathing suit.
And. Of course. Red skein of yarn in hand.
Though that’s more for the interim, not for the going.
Dominic washes a selection of berries in the kitchen. “How long have you been up?”
“Since a regular time. I’ve been working on all this since book club on Thursday, though. I just ran out of room in my room, so I had to move it out here.”It, of course, is an array of cork boards, pictures, note cards, and yarn. Propped on an easel is my thinking whiteboard, which has all my questions scattered across it.
Questions like:
Does Dominic know me frombeforethat moment at Bear’s?
And, if he does,whowould he possibly be?
I don’t recognize him, so that narrows my speculations significantly. I don’t know that many people. I’ve never known that many people. He could be someone inconsequential from my school days. If he really were considered dull or boring growing up, it’s unlikely I’d have paid him any mind, yet I’ve already reviewed my yearbooks, and no one remotely fits.
This second question does of course rest in the assumption that the answer to the first is,yes,he does know me from before that moment at Bear’s, which I have no supporting data for. Any assumptions in a mystery can prove fatal as they run the risk of bending reality to suit them.
I need to return to the facts.
My brother is in on this. That’s a fact.
But, like with all other facts thus far, it does little but breed more questions.
Have they known each other for longer than I realize?
Do I remotely believe there’s any hope that confronting Wynnter will bear anything akin to results? Wynnter is dry, guarded, and brusque. If he doesn’t want me to know something, he’ll lock it up tight, arch an eyebrow, and stare.
If Mirabelle knows anything, she would crack, but I’m not keen on bullying her into breaking her promise, and I’m also not convinced she knows enough to make the bad karma worth it.
Beth…
Beth’s an option.
She’s the least connected player as far as I can tell, so what she knows might be just enough to propel the plot forward without completely ruining my fun.
“Oh dear,” Dominic murmurs, tugging my attention off my tangled web.
