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The dinner gong sounds at that moment, cutting off whatever Ryan was about to say, his face a mask of surprise at my words.
A firm hand lands on my back, and I turn in surprise to where Timothy is guiding me into the dining room. There is a flash of something in his eyes before his inscrutable look takes over. I wonder what he was thinking.
Timothy
Well, that was the most fun I’ve had at pre-dinner drinks this vacation. Angie is officially a mystery that I desperately want to solve. I run through the list of things I know about her as I gently guide her into the dining room and seat her beside me again.
She grew up in Queens, in the housing projects. She lived with various foster families. She studied business at NYU, and she’s worked for Uncle Bill in some capacity for the last four years. Whatever she does for him, he clearly cares about the woman, considering he got rid of Robyn because she wasn’tniceto Angie, and he fusses over her like a mother hen.
Beau turns to speak with Max, pointedly ignoring Angie, who doesn’t seem to mind. I reach over and tap the back of her hand, resting near her wine glass. “We’re getting you back on the horse tomorrow.”
She turns her huge brown eyes on me, wide with fear.
“N-no, thank you.” Angie fidgets with her fork.
Smirking, I close my fingers around her hand to still it, and Angie’s eyes dart toward me in surprise. Her fingers immediately freeze under my touch, yet I don’t remove my hand for some unknown reason.
“I won’t let you fall. I promise,” I tell her in a low voice, leaning in conspiratorially. Angie blinks up at me. Her scent teases my nostrils. Strawberries, I think it is. Strawberries and maybe a hint of lavender.
“I still have my bruise,” she mumbles, lowering her eyes. I squeeze her hand where I’m still holding it.
“I won’t let you fall again,” I tell her firmly. “If you’re not down here for breakfast dressed for riding by eight o’clock, I’ll come and find you and carry you out there dressed in whatever it is you happened to be wearing.”
Her eyes widen, flickering back up to mine, and she swallows convulsively.
“Fine,” she hisses. “But you better not let me fall off.”
I smirk at her, squeezing her hand before releasing it. Turning my attention to the first course, I ignore the curious eyes of the table, where they were all fixed on Angie’s and my joined hands. Uncle Bill watches us with inscrutable eyes, turning his attention along the table to David. Ryan nudges Sarah, who turns to Angie, beaming at her with a wide, toothy smile.
“So, Angie, where was your last vacation?”
Angie starts in surprise at actually being addressed and squirms slightly. I remember her words from the drawing room that she desired to fly under the radar. I’m pretty sure being the center of attention at this table isn’t on her wish list. Angie’s eyes dart toward Uncle Bill, a fact that no one at this table misses. But he steeples his fingers at his chin and watches her along with everyone else.
“Uh, Colorado. Last Christmas,” she mutters, keeping her eyes fixed on her wineglass.
“You haven’t been on vacation for an entire year?” Tiffany gapes at her as Angie shrugs.
“Work is less traumatic than vacationing,” she quips, taking a slug of her wine while David snorts.
“You’re doing vacationing wrong if you think it’s traumatic,” he laughs. Angie tips her head to the side as she looks at him, her lips pursed.
“You’re probably right,” she agrees, tapping her fingers on the table near her dinner plate. Uncle Bill is observing her. He shakes his head the tiniest amount, looking displeased about something. His eyes slide from Angie to me.
“Tim, I heard you video-called into a hell of a board meeting this afternoon.” The abrupt change in topic and his tone let everyone know that the subject of Angie’s vacations is off the table.
“It was fiery, but nothing I couldn’t handle,” I admit, taking a sip of my whiskey.
Uncle Bill nods and grins appreciatively as I launch into a description of the almost fight that broke out between the CFO and the COO.
Beside me, Angie blows out a breath of relief. Still talking, I hover my hand over her thigh for a moment beneath the table. Fuck it. I rest it there, squeezing lightly. Angie stiffens momentarily beneath my touch but relaxes, her hand sliding over my hand and her fingers curling around mine. We stay that way; me holding her thigh and her holding my hand until the next course is served. Angie takes her hand away as she smiles at the server, and I follow suit. Damn it, for some reason, that felt right.
Chapter Five
Timothy
I probably shouldn’t have touched Angie underneath the table at dinner last night. I have no idea why on earth I did, but it seemed to comfort her. Of course, it did the exact opposite for me. I lay awake in bed half the fucking night, her strawberry and lavender scent still teasing my nostrils. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined how it would feel to taste her luscious lips before burying myself in her.
Fuck me. I haven’t solved the mystery of Angie Shepherd yet. I know she works for Uncle Bill in some capacity. Obviously, sex is out of the damn question. Still, tell that to my cock, which stands to attention every time she walks into the room. Like right now. She’s dressed in her riding outfit again. Those jodhpurs should be illegal, as should her ass.
