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Ian looked down at me skeptically. “It’s late.”
“I’m wide awake,” I said, eyeing the collection of books stacked on the TV stand. “If you won’t teach me anything, how about we start a book club?”
“What do you read?”
“Everything. Lots of historical romance lately.”
“Really?” His demeanor changed and his shoulders relaxed. He was no longer on the defensive.
“Yes, historical romance. What’s wrong with that? You learn something and the boy gets the girl, but not before the wide-spread panic, famine, cannibalism, cholera, the Nazis, and of course, the hurdled forty or fifty life-threatening situations.”
Ian tilted his head back again. The rumble of his laughter my new driving force.
“So, will you teach me how to sign?”
“Maybe,” he said as he playfully squared his shoulders, “it depends, Mrs. Vaughn…”
“Miss.” I pressed my lips together wondering if he remembered his remark the day we met.
Ian’s lips twitched. He did. But he had enough tact not to stare at my miss tits.
We shared another smile, this one was far more intimate. Awareness of the unwanted distance between us began to creep into my thoughts.
Was I crushing on Ian Kemp? If so, I was developing a crush on the mid-life professor. And that wasn’t healthy for either of us.
“I should go. Thank you for the lesson.”
“I taught you nothing.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Professor Kemp.”
“Koti.” His voice was glum, to say the least. I paused my feet at the door and glanced his way. “If we are going to engage in any sort of conversation, for future reference, I want honesty over everything. That’s important to me, all right?”
I stared at my toes. “All right.” A beat passed before I could brave another a look at him. I’d become acutely aware of my body’s response to his smile, his laugh, his voice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He took a step forward closing the space between us and my breathing picked up. I studied the sprinkle of hair on his navel that trailed down past the button on his shorts while I savored his smell—new leather and soap—and wished for a few moments we were back in that hammock so I would be surrounded in it, in him. I blinked the thought away and cleared my throat.
Ian seemed eager as he studied my face. “What do you want to ask me
?”
“Are you okay?”
I braved a look and what I saw wasn’t the scorn or the ever-present bitterness he carried, it was genuine curiosity. And for the first time since Ian landed on my island, I felt like I had his undivided attention.
“Why are you concerned about me?”
I could have told him I was paid to be worried about him. But that really wasn’t the truth. I was paid to keep an eye on him, but that was the extent of it. My concern stemmed from somewhere else. A place I recognized, a place I felt like Ian was drowning in.
The lump I tried to speak around kept me quiet for a few moments. And then I gave him exactly what he asked for—honesty.
“Before I came here, I had a really shitty thing happen, the kind of thing that breaks people. I think you’re familiar with that.” He slowly nodded. “Well, I was alone—alone in a way no human should ever be—and I needed just one person to ask me that question. I was surrounded by thousands of people, but I just needed one. And I decided I wanted to be that person for you. Because I do want to know. Because I am worried for you and about you. Because you deserve to have that question asked. So, Ian, are you okay?”
He didn’t hesitate a second. “No.”
Tense moments passed as we stared at each other. “And what will you do with that answer, Koti?”
“I’ll keep it in confidence. I’ll respect your need for privacy and I’ll ask you until you say you are, or you could be, or you might be someday.”
