Page 65 of Come A Little Closer

“You got it.” I eased myself off him and stood up, climbing out of the bath and handing over a towel after I wrapped one around myself.

After drying off, I felt better about where we stood. Less confused about what it all meant. I was slowly learning that part of being an adult was effective communication, and luckily, Niall made it easy. Encouraged it instead of shooting me down.

I took his hand after he’d dried off as well, dropping my wet towel on the floor and suddenly too eager to get him into my bed to even stop to hang it up. He laughed as I dragged him with me. Then he groaned when I pushed him down on the bed and climbed astride him.

“Okay, boyfriend. I vaguely remember you promising to make love to me all night. Are you going to make good on that promise or what?”

30

NIALL

The Saturday of the festival was always our busiest day. Even I got involved for it, leading a tour through the property while Tallulah was back at the main house with Sayra and the VIP guests.

After spending most the night inside her, I couldn’t believe that I was already missing her, but I was. “With Tallulah” had fast become my favorite place to be, no matter what we were doing, and I couldn’t wait to get back to her later.

For now, though, we both had work to do. It was going to take some getting used to, this whole doing other things while being in love thing. I could easily have blown off everything else to spend every minute with her, but even just thinking shit like that was going to take some getting used to as well.

I shook my head at myself and refocused on the tour I was leading. Once a year, I got to do this, and honestly, I loved it, explaining the history and why I chose to buy these properties to return them to their former glory.

Finally blinking myself out of my erotic memories of last night, I motioned at the remnants of stone wall that I’d brought the tour group to. “What you see here is all that remains of a hut that was built during the war. The Carmichaels built it by hand themselves, and it was an oddity in that respect because they had help they could’ve ordered to build it, but they didn’t. Every stone here was hand-laid by a member of the Carmichael family and they offered this hut to anyone who needed shelter.”

At the confusion on the faces around me, I nodded. “They were an eccentric bunch and they decided that they wanted only this hut and the area around it to be neutral territory. If anyone was injured or exhausted, they could come use the hut to recover. It was a noble thought, but they never put word out. Only one person ever used it.”

“Who was that?” one of the tourists asked.

I grinned. “The youngest Carmichael son who, upon returning home from the war, found it unoccupied and used it as a space to bring women he knew his mother wouldn’t approve of back to.”

“It was a—” The guy cut himself off and looked around, seeing a number of children in the group. He cleared his throat before turning back to me. “Love shack?”

I laughed, shrugging as I shook my head. “As far as we know, yes.”

“Is that true?” another asked, squinting at me as if she didn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth.

“Honestly? I’m not sure,” I admitted. “See, every time I’m considering buying a property, I have a team of local historians look into it for me. I do my own research as well, but they dig deeper than the records I have access to in my home and office. According to what they found, that’s the story surrounding these particular ruins on the property.”

“Wow,” the first guy said, smirking as he nodded and glanced back at the stones behind me. “That’s actually not boring at all.”

“It’s not,” I agreed easily, turning to continue the tour and gesturing for them to follow me. “The Carmichael Plantation had a bunch of stories like that surrounding it, from the greenhouses having been used to grow pot at some point to some important political events that happened in the main house. Most of the properties around here do not have boring stories at all, which is why I work so hard to restore them and to share those stories with others.”

“That’s pretty cool,” someone behind me uttered and I grinned, glad that I’d landed an interactive group again today.

That wasn’t always the case. I showed them around the property, sharing all the nuggets of information my team had dug up when I’d bought it, and feeling like an historical superhero by the time I led them back to the plantation house.

When we got there, however, I sought out Tallulah immediately. My heart stammered in my chest when I saw her talking to an older woman with a string of pearls around her neck, her grayish blonde hair styled to a tee.

I groaned. What the hell is my mother doing here?

She and I had something of a contentious relationship. We always had. While I’d been honest about her having a good heart in her own way when I’d been telling Tallulah about her, my mother wasn’t the type who gave hugs and kissed boo-boos better.

She had an extremely sharp wit and I did enjoy the occasional lunch with her whenever one of us visited the state the other lived in, but we weren’t close. We’d never had much of a bond, and after my father had died, we’d only grown further and further apart.

The distance between us had become physical once I’d left New York, but it was so much more than that. While Mom had never been warm, exactly, she’d retreated into herself after my father had died, and as far as I was concerned, she disappeared further and further into herself with every year that passed.

The fact that I wasn’t married yet, however, was one of the most contentious issues between us—and one she’d been rather outspoken about in recent years. Gretta Morrison wouldn’t be a warm and cuddly granny either, though.

She just wanted me to be married and have a few kids so that the Morrison name—and with it, our legacy—would continue. I sighed as I wondered what she was doing speaking to Tallulah. My mom had never, ever liked anyone I’d dated despite her apparent need for me to be married, and she’d often suggested that she should be allowed to choose a wife for me.

Hence the contention.