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I tell him I’ll be in the lobby and then I leave, not looking back.
Chapter 9
Oliver
It’s almost six o’clock in the evening, and instead of finishing my work and going over to hang out with Alec at his house near the resort or—shudder—going home to my rental alone, I’m waiting for Sophie.
She comes to the resort most evenings after she finishes at the mobile library, talking a mile a minute about whatever the adventure du jour was. I have a hard time keeping a straight face through her stories—and I strongly suspect she likes making me laugh. Sometimes she goes on and on about how Mrs. So-and-so gossiped about someone else she thinks I should remember. Usually, I don’t.
Other times, she tells me about a shipment of books like they’re rare chocolates imported from Bavaria. I wonder if she’s going to love her future children as much as she loves her books.
And that’s when I shoot out a relieved breath that she’s not going to be having kids with her ex, Troy. That she was almost engaged to him sobers me like nothing else.
I took her for granted before. I can admit that. I should probably admit it to her—and apologize. But now we’re in this strange dance of sort-of-boss, sort-of-employee, and I haven’t yet figured out how to go about things.
I’m going to figure this out, though. And so far, we’ve kept things professional between us.
It isn’t easy, but it’s absolutely necessary.
Sophie and I are too different to be together. I’ve always known this. I just have to hold out for a few more months and then I’ll be in Capri. I can’t make any rash moves that might jeopardize my goals. Yeah, I’m drawn to Sophie more and more, but I love my career scouting for Sebastian.
Being in Longdale hasn’t been easy for me. I can’t seem to settle in. There’s just something about it that feels a little off. And, go figure, Sophie will never leave Longdale.
I’m happy she’s doing this job for us—I’m sure she can use the money and we need her experience. But maybe I moved without thinking things through. Because it’s going to hurt a heck of a lot more to leave her in a few months than it ever did to leave her each August.
With a groan, I wander out of my office. Unlike Sebastian, who’s most comfortable in a boardroom, I have to take frequent breaks. I pad down the hall to the elevator. Might as well wait for her down in the lobby and walk her up.
Before the elevator doors open on the ground floor, my phone dings with a text. Sebastian’s asking a question about the business. I growl my irritation. He’s a workaholic and has a habit of calling impromptu meetings right when I’m ready to head home. I want to help Sophie, not be pelted with questions and demands from my older brother.
By “help Sophie,” I totally mean watch her face light up as she gets excited about every little strange or random thought that comes to mind. And, to be clear, I’m watching her face in a completely “friends only” way.
I reach the lobby, waiting for her to appear at the main entrance when another text from Sebastian comes through.Where are you?
Great. He’s looking for me now. He has access to all the security cameras right on his phone, so it’s going to take him a matter of seconds to find me.
I’m a little out of breath as I reach the front doors, a thrill zipping through me as I see Sophie walking up the front way. She has on a light blue dress that fans out at the bottom. It swings with every step she takes, and I stare at her legs for a moment before I come to my senses.
“Perfect timing, Soph,” I tell her. I laugh as an idea strikes me. “You’ve got to save me.” I reach for her hand and, glancing around the lobby, we walk-run across the slate and marble floor, past the front desk, and through a seating area out to the back terrace.
The hand holding? It’s only because I’m asking her to run and this floor is slick. That’s it.
She’s laughing. “What am I saving you from?” she asks, glancing behind us at the back doors that have yet to slide closed. “Sebastian looks ticked.”
Crap. I turn my head to see him standing at the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
I pick up the pace. “We’re running from him, of course he’s ticked,” I say.
She slows down to kick her heeled shoes off her feet, paying little attention to where they land. I do the same, making a show of flinging my Italian loafers wildly. She rewards me with a shrieking laugh. One of mine disappears into a small bush. I cringe because all the vegetation on our grounds was planted only recently. I strip off my socks and chuck them behind a tree.
“And why are we running from him?” she asks, placing the hand I’m not holding over her heart. “If I’d known, I would have brought my sneakers.” I’m not sure, but it sounds like she whispers, “…and a sports bra,” to herself.
A smile scratches at my lips, but I don’t want to embarrass her by commenting further. “His questions can wait,” I say. “You’re here.” I don’t dare look back because I’m sure that Sebastian is either standing there, fuming, or chasing after us, and I don’t want to see either. Instead, I train my focus on the lake. The sun, low on the horizon, is shining brilliantly across the water.
Her laugh is throaty, her head thrown back to the sky.
We reach the end of the terrace, and I make an executive decision. “This way,” I say. I switch directions, running across the grass to the dock.
We reach my boat. My gorgeous, new rowboat—all whiskey-soaked teak, oil rubbed, perfect. I haven’t had a chance to take it out yet. Right now, with Sophie, is as good a time as any.
