Page 46 of Unwritten Rules

He nods, his face chagrined. “I’m sorry for the…umm, what I did on the steps.”

I cross my arms belligerently, inclining my head to indicate he should continue.

“Zara is creating a lot of unnecessary drama for me on the legal front and—”

The penny finally drops.

“And you’d rather she didn’t give you unnecessary drama on the romance front, too, right?”

He’s the epitome of a hangdog when he nods sheepishly. “You got it in one.”

“Okay, that’s all well and good…” I move toward the bed, dropping down beside his familiar heat. “But can you keep your tongue in your own mouth, please and thank you.”

I lie on my side, giving him my back as I tug the sheet over my shoulders.

“It’s cruel and unusual punishment to turn a girl on and then not even give her a solid ten minutes to get herself off with her favourite vibrator pen before landing in their friendship bed…just saying.”

* * *

Nate has disappeared by the time I wake up the next morning. And that’s how I spend my weekend.

Nate-less at Hawthorne House.

Thankfully, his staff are wonderful and keep me plenty busy.

Monique, the chef, regales me with tales of her time at Michelin-star restaurants back in her native France while teaching me how to make a Hawthorne family favourite, coq au vin.

Johanna shows me as much of the house as she can, pointing out a massive orchard at the back of the property I’d seen but not yet gotten to visit.

“The orchard was Lady Hawthorne’s favourite place. Well, that and the Lake House further beyond, but the current Lord Hawthorne passed many a sunshine-filled day racing through the orchard, stealing fruit from the summer workers and carving words into the trees, much to his mother’s disapproval.”

My heart stutters in my chest, imagining Nate as a child. And then, the realisation strikes that I’ve not seen any pictures of him.

“Are there any images of Nate as a boy, Johanna?”

Her face lights up. “Oh yes, come on. I’ll show them to you.”

She leads me down through the kitchen and asks me to wait at the end of the galley before she ducks into a small room beyond, returning with a shoebox tied with a tattered purple ribbon.

“These belong to Wetherby, the butler. He’s always kept anything he could get his hands on.”

She unties the ribbon, stopping to look at me with wide-open eyes. “Don’t tell him I showed you this, though. He may be old and sick right now, but Wetherby would kick my backside if he knew I’d been in his personal space.”

I chuckle openly, her eyes widening even more. “Your secret is safe with me, Johanna.”

Her shoulders visibly drop, and she chuckles softly. “He’s a force to be reckoned with when he wants. A strong silent type, you know?”

I flatten my lips as I try to suppress a grin.

Sounds like someone I know, alright.

Johanna rummages through pictures and newspaper clippings, eventually stopping when she lands on the one she wants. She plucks it from the box and gently drops it on the table before handing me the photo.

“Oh. My. God.”

The picture in my hand is of the most beautiful little boy I’ve ever seen. Enormous brown eyes, fringed with heavy black lashes, pin me, holding me captive. His hair is longer than it is now, and he’s smiling brightly enough that the elusive dimple in his left cheek is uncovered, winking straight at the camera.

He’s laughing with a woman with almost the same colouring, the same dimple in her right cheek mirroring Nate’s.