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“Why should I? I’d gone to school for interior design and hospitality, and now the bed-and-breakfast was gone. Or it was going. By then, they already had prospective buyers. I didn’t have a business background to raise that kind of capital on my own,” she added, as if guessing my next question. “Besides, they didn’t think I could do it alone. Maybe they were right.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
She jerked a shoulder and set down her fork. She’d eaten a few bites after my directive, but she’d swiftly slowed down again. “I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to you. You’ve never struggled with your confidence.”
“That’s not true. But even if it were, I know I can ask for help. There are people I can turn to. Options always exist.”
Even as I said the words, they rang hollowly in my ears.
Me, ask for help? I’d never asked anyone for anything. Couldn’t. It was as if my vocal cords froze up when I made a request that required someone to do something for me out of the kindness of their hearts.
So, I commanded, and cajoled, and if that didn’t work, slyly threatened. I’d honed those skills through years in the real estate business. My father tolerated no fools and put up with no weakness, including from his sons. Especially from his sons.
“It all seemed so overwhelming, so I shut down. They offered me a small piece of the selling price for school, and I invested it.”
“You have no intention of going back to school.”
“Didn’t I just say that? Why should I? I don’t need to stage rooms in my daily life. I work in a diner. And the education in hospitality I’ve already received is more than adequate to deal with my customers.”
“You also have no intention of touching that money.”
Her defensive posture matched the flare of annoyance in her eyes. “They sold something I loved. No, I don’t want the money. I have no use for it. I do fine at the diner.”
My default reaction was to laugh. Snidely, as my father would have. In fact, the sound rumbled in my chest and her head lifted, her soft, wary gaze hardening. So I shoved it down.
I wasn’t my goddamn father, and my father wouldn’t have tolerated such rudeness toward Sage in any case. The senior Hamilton had always loved her. I’d once believed it was because her family was made up of well-to-do, salt-of-the-earth types who pleased his Puritan soul. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
It might’ve just been the magic of Sage Evans, making friends out of foes everywhere she went.
“Tell me how Celine healed you.” Not saying it sarcastically was a challenge and a half.
Jesus, being a nice person was difficult.
She sniffled. Her eyes didn’t look wet, thank God, but there was definitely emotion behind the gesture. “You don’t care.”
“Yes, I do care, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
She took another bite of cake, but she wasn’t getting nearly the pleasure from it I’d expected. I’d rather been looking forward to watching her enjoy types of cuisine she didn’t get at home. Instead, she’d been glum, and it probably had to do with my hasty dismissal of Celine—not blowing me in the hot tub.
Small favors, I supposed.
“I have trouble letting my emotions out sometimes. My dad’s a real stoic type, and my mom is so emotional that she used to make me vow not to be like her. So I stuffed down everything. Watching Titanic and listening to ‘My Heart Will Go On’ loosened the logjam.” She gestured with her free hand at her chest. “In here.”
Rather than say something I was certain would not help, I made a humming noise and forked up more cake.
“Winning this trip and tickets to see her, well, it seemed like kismet. I was fine with going alone.” She tipped back her head and glanced at the ceiling. “Fine, I was hoping to meet someone who might enjoy her too. There have to be men who are comfortable with their sensitive sides, right?”
“Sensitive sides, sure. Guys with sensitive sides who will make your eyes roll back in your head and listen voluntarily to Celine?” I shrugged. “Few and far between, princess.”
The sweet name just slipped out, as it had earlier. But all at once, a change seemed to come over her. She straightened and her eyes cleared, and she smiled in that same sexy way she had back in the hotel room for a brief instant that had made me think she’d forgotten all about the Celine nonsense.
“You know, you’re right. I’m putting far too much importance on this.” She leaned forward, and like the lech I was, my gaze dipped to the plunging vee of her dress.
God, she had some rack on her. Now that I’d seen them completely bare, I was even more riveted by them.
Christ, stop acting like you just got out of prison. Eyes up. She’s speaking to you.
“I’ve never had a nickname before, except from my mom. She calls me a few things, but sweet pea is her favorite.” She smiled so shyly that my goddamn heart lurched. “I like princess.”
