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Shit.
“My name. It’s Max.” I stood up and held out a hand with a tight smile. “My grandmother isn’t amused I didn’t introduce myself to you yesterday, so…”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, smiling, and moved so she could put her hand in mine. “I’m Ellie.”
“I know. Grandma hasn’t stopped talking about you since you made the booking. She’s… a fan.” I couldn’t help the dryness of my tone.
Something flashed across her blue gaze, but the glimmer of darkness disappeared just as quickly as it had shown up. “She mentioned it.” Ellie took a step back and clasped her hands against her stomach. “Well, it was nice to meet you… Max. I’ll leave you to it.”
My name rolled off her tongue easily. Too easily. Why the fuck did that sound so good?
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned away, and this time, she walked all the way back to the lodge without looking back.
I didn’t take my eyes off her. I couldn’t. It was almost a compulsion—a weird one, but a compulsion, nonetheless.
Ellie Aarons was annoyingly attractive.
I shook my head and turned back to the lake, clutching the bottle of water she’d given me. I’d done what I’d promised Grandma I would do, and that would be my last bloody interaction with her.
I had no reason to spend any time with her unless it was a greeting in passing.
I had evenlessthan no reason when I considered how attracted I was to her.
There was a reason I kept to myself—and temptation like Ellie was exactly it.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIE
Daydreamer
Some days worked, and others didn’t. Unfortunately for me, I had far more days thatdidn’twork lately.
Instead of getting frustrated, I simply shut the top of my laptop down and walked away. I was here for a reason, and that was to find inspiration. Sitting at a desk in a setting as beautiful as the Lake District wasn’t going to provide me what I needed.
Of course, there wassomethinggoing on inside my brain. My hero was forming as a tall, black-haired guy who would bump into the heroine while on a run, and that was quite annoying.
Because there was only one tall, black-haired guy I knew.
Max.
The Duke of Windermere.
The Duke of Arseholery, more like.
He’d hardly been nice to me, and a part of me wished I’d thrown the bottle of water at him instead of handing it to him nicely. Perhaps Esme’s words about him judging romance novels were also sticking to me and makingmejudge him without knowing him, but that really wasn’t my fault.
Romance novels were unfairly maligned, and I would fight anyone who criticised the genre.
All right, so fight was a strong word. I wasn’t exactly Ronda Rousey, you know? But if I got a good swing, I bet I could throw a book at someone and hit them hard.
I’d probably apologise to the book after, but still.
I sighed and perched on the window seat that overlooked the lake. It was truly beautiful here, and it almost seemed to be the perfect setting for my book. I’d originally planned for it to be set in London, but the longer I stared out at the clear lake with a beautiful pair of swans swimming across it, the more the nameless characters told me this was where it was supposed to be.
This was where their story would be told.
