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Maybe he just hoped Natalie hadn’t been the one to write the letter, because the damn thing had unexpectedly struck a chord with him. It was written by the same person who penned the last letter, meaning their interest was romantic in nature.
What would it be like to know you completely?
The closer he got to home, the more that question circled his head.
I wonder if I’m who I’m meant to be or if I’m just too distracted to keep evolving.
Four years had passed since he’d been home, and he’d barely registered the length of time. Not until he’d arrived in St. Helena to find his mother keeping the winery’s troubles a secret. His sister going through a crisis, and he didn’t even know the barest details. What if his coping mechanisms weren’t helping him anymore?
What if keeping rigid schedules was harming him . . . and his relationships, instead?
Julian entered the house and immediately strode toward his sister’s room.
She was asleep. Sprawled out, an empty wineglass on the floor near her dangling hand.
When the scent of alcohol hit him, he closed the door again with a wince.
If she’d left the house this afternoon with all of the alcohol in her system, she would have either burst into flames or passed out somewhere along the trail.
Which meant he actually had a secret admirer in town. The first letter had been real. Should he write back?
Jesus.
He should forget about the letters. Cast them aside as a disruption. But he continued to think about the questions she’d posed in the second one. He’d read the letter only twice, and he could already mentally recite it, word for word.
How odd.
What if Hallie is my secret admirer?
No. Impossible. She was not a serious romantic interest, despite the amount of time he spent fantasizing about her, leading to an embarrassing amount of breaks being taken from work to relieve himself of sexual frustration.
Julian, I don’t think there are two more different people in this whole world.
Hadn’t she said those very words? Not to mention, she’d been the one to suggest a relationship based purely on friendship. He’d never met a more bluntly honest person. If she was his admirer, she would simply tell him, wouldn’t she? She didn’t lie about her faults—no, she practically bragged about showing up late and flying by the seat of her pants.
Or her annoyingly tight cutoffs, as it were.
Whoever was on the other side of these letters, there would be no writing back, despite his being reluctantly intrigued. Something about establishing communication with this person didn’t sit quite right—but exploring that too deeply could come only at his own peril, so Julian quickly stuffed the letter back into his pocket with the intention of forgetting about it.
Again.
Chapter Ten
If Hallie leaned just so to the right and stretched, she could see Julian through his office window. Working diligently, with his ticking stopwatch and rigid shoulders. The sky was clouded today, so the lamplight from the house spilled across the grass, highlighting the mist in the air. It was definitely getting ready to rain. She should absolutely get going. But she wouldn’t have this view of Julian Vos and his cleft chin from home, so she risked the inclement weather by planting extra slowly, spreading the soil with slow-motion hands.
Their eyes met through the glass, and she quickly looked away, pretending to be enthralled by the blooming stem of a snapdragon, while her belly continued to take one long skydive. Had he found the second, decidedly more coherent letter? She’d been working in the guesthouse garden for two days and they hadn’t spoken, so she couldn’t get a read. But he definitely hadn’t written back. She’d checked. And that couldn’t be a good sign, right?
Maybe he’d marched her letter directly to the police and asked them to handle it. Maybe they were forming a task force right now. Find and eliminate the rogue secret admirer before any more men were forced to read about feelings.
Thunder rolled loudly overhead.
Once again, their gazes danced toward each other through the mist-covered window, and he raised a very sharp eyebrow. As if to say, Do you not have a weather app on your phone?
Or eyeballs?
Finally, he lifted a phone to his ear. She assumed he had to take a call until her own phone started vibrating in her back pocket. “You’re calling me from inside?”
He hummed, and the low sound was like a soft shock down her spine. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a jacket? Or maybe calling it a day altogether, considering it’s about to pour?”
“I’m almost done. These lilacs just can’t decide where they want to be.” Julian’s head fell back on his shoulders, eyes imploring the ceiling for sanity. “You know I can see you, right?”
Despite Julian’s frustration, his lips tugged. “Maybe you could try something new and space out the flowers evenly—”
