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I typed in, From where?
“Here,” he said a couple seconds after my text whooshed, doing this after opening the door and sticking his head in.
When he saw me in the turret, he fully came in.
“Am I driving Lou to the station?” he asked as he sauntered my way.
“She’s leaving in the morning. She’s going to kick back tonight. She’s still a little headachy. Her train leaves at nine thirty.”
“Right. I’ll let her know I’ll be ready at eight thirty to take her to town.”
“You don’t have to do that, Ian. I can drive her.”
“You can come with, but I need to get out of this house.”
That sounded awesome. “Then I’m coming with, because I do too.”
After I said that, I quickly moved my legs because he was aiming his ass at the lounge where they were resting.
“Are we hanging out?” I joked.
He sprawled, legs stretched in front of him, crossed at his ankles, and linked his fingers behind his head. “I showed you mine, your turn to show me yours.”
All right.
Flirty banter aside…
Were we doing this?
And if we were, what was this?
I rotated to sit on my ass and scooted up so I was leaning against the high back swoop at the corner of the lounge, my legs crossed in front of me.
“I think it’s kinda important I know what’s happening here, Ian,” I said quietly.
He watched closely as I moved and spoke, his expression shifting, and he replied in the same tone, “I think I’m distraught you don’t already know, Daphne.”
“You’re a huge flirt. You have been since the beginning.”
“I am. But not unless I want to sleep with the woman I’m chatting up.”
He unlinked his hands and held one palm out my way when I opened my mouth.
I shut it.
He went on, “I’m understanding at my request this morning you’re now needing full disclosure, so allow me to share that yes, in the beginning, I simply wanted to fuck you. But unfortunately, you’re plucky and witty and I have this damned weakness for a woman with an American accent. Not to mention black lace bras, flawless skin, fantastic fucking hair and zero patience for fuckwittery. So I’m afraid the bad news is, I like you for more than a brief week-in-the-country fling.”
“Plucky?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Do you really have a weakness for women with American accents?”
“A development I discovered Friday night.”
I smiled at him because he was funny, and I was super, mega relieved that he was where I was with what was happening between us.
“I have a lot of baggage, honey,” I warned.
