Page 38
“Right,” I squeaked. “I’ll just um—” I waved vaguely over my shoulder.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He pushed from the couch, then paused. “Different from what I remember.” He thumbed the hem of my T-shirt.
“Bad?” I managed, struggling to breathe.
“Distracting,” he countered. “Go, Avery.”
I snagged the hem of my shirt back from him. “Yes, My Lord,” I drawled, offering him a curtsy.
His eyes flared, pupils expanding. “Careful. I might start to think you like taking orders.”
I turned on my heel and marched up the steps, skin flushing hot.
This was too much. Too wild. Too…impossible. He was…he was a ghost. Barely a man, but it felt real.
It felt dangerous.
“Why Ireland?”
I looked up from my breakfast, stomach pitching low.
Wolfe sat on the other end of the table, chin propped on his fist. He never took his eyes off me and I squirmed, wishing he could find somewhere else to level that unnerving stare.
I did as he asked and changed out of my sleep shirt and shorts, trading them in for leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I poured him a cup of tea when I made my own. Every once in a while, he’d turn the cup and study the liquid sloshing inside.
I wondered if he remembered the taste of it.
“I’ve always wanted to travel here.” I fiddled with my fork. “I had a picture of the Cliffs of Moher on my wall in my bedroom. I used to look at it every night and dream about what it would be like to stand there.”
His lips twitched, curving into a gentle smile. “It’s a beautiful place. One of my favorites.” He tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t gone yet.”
“No.” I busied myself with another cup of tea, just so I wouldn’t squirm. “Not yet.”
“What’s stopping you?”
I chewed my lower lip debating on how honest I wanted to be.
“I guess I’m worried…”
“It won’t feel as you imagined,” he said, nodding to himself.
Cautiously, I dragged my eyes back to his. I wasn’t sure what I’d find there. Instead of judgement or pity, there was only understanding. A tenderness to his expression that made my heart unexpectedly clench.
“Yes,” I admitted, voice a mere whisper. “I’ve been dreaming of it. Building it up in my head. Maybe I’m—”
Too lost, too broken to feel it.
Wolfe shifted, stool scraping over the stone. “What else is on your list? Maybe start small and we work our way up.”
“We?” I asked, brow raised.
He drummed the fingers of his free hand on the wood. “House mates, remember?” His wink was sly, teasing. “I think we are in this together now.”
“That doesn’t sound awful,” I confessed.
“No,” he murmured. “It doesn’t sound awful at all.” That weird energy built between us again. He was the one who looked away first this time. “Your list?”
“Right. Well,” I began, “I want to go whale watching. I thought that would be fun.”
