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He chuckles, nuzzling against my hair again, and releasing me, coming to stand beside me. A comfortable silence settles over us as we both stare at the pond. This is one of the other things that I really enjoy about Tim. There’s no awkwardness when we’re quiet together. It’s …nice.
“Tuscany.”
I blink over at Tim, where he’s leaning over the fence, one foot up on the lowest rung, staring at the frozen pond.
“If I could live anywhere in the world, I’d live in Tuscany.”
Warmth spreads in my stomach as I smile over at him. This is it. My toes were right up at the cliff edge and those words shove me over it and I’m falling, headfirst in love with Tim. And I’m surprisingly okay with it.
“Italy?” I grin, and he shrugs, rolling his eyes at me.
“Birthplace of the Italian Renaissance.”
I slide along the fence until I’m standing right beside him. He tugs me into his arms, his hands sliding down to cup my ass.
“Plus, the fantastic wines.”
“Where in Tuscany?” I tip my head back so I can look at his face, and he tilts his head down to look at me. “Florence? Pisa?”
“The countryside,” Tim murmurs, leaning down so his lips brush against mine. “I’d buy a small farm, with an authentic Tuscan villa, and grow my own grapes, and absolutelysuckat making wine.”
I smirk against his lips. I don’t think Timothy Brooks Westerhaven would suck at anything he set his mind to.
“Sounds nice.”
He nods, his lips pressing harder against mine, as he kisses me thoroughly.
“Dreams are supposed to be nice,” he whispers into my hair once he’s stopped kissing me. My heart clenches at the sadness in his tone. Of course that’s only a dream for him. All that money, and his life isn’t really his own. I guess being a billionaire isn’t really all its cracked up to be. Butterflies beat against the side of my heart as I wish he could have his dream. I can’t have mine – him – so at least one of us should be happy.
Stepping away, I tangle our fingers together as well as our gloved hands will allow as we walk back to the Manor.
“What did you dream of doing when you were younger?” I ask. He looks over at me like the question confuses him.
“Ever since I was in middle school, I knew I would take over one of the five businesses.”
My heart aches for him again. For the nonchalant way he speaks about it. Like there was no point in dreaming because it could never happen.
“I had hoped for the publishing business, but I actually really enjoy my job. So, I guess Uncle Bill knew best after all.”
“I wanted to be a dancer,” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood. Tim smiles down at me.
“But you didn’t.”
I snort, rolling my eyes at him. Of course I didn’t. He’s forgetting something. “Dance lessons cost money, genius.”
Tim falls silent. Shit. Hell, I’m so awkward sometimes.
Timothy
Fuck. I never know what to say when Angie so casually mentions her experience with poverty. I’ve never had to experience that. Dad was already a successful lawyer by the time I was born, and, with Uncle Bill, well… money has never been an object I’ve had to think about. Except in the abstract, on balance sheets and the like. But Angie is so relaxed when talking about not having it. It always pulls me up short.
She smiles over at me, squeezing my hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so….”
I grin at her as she trails off. “It’s okay. I should have thought before I spoke.”
But Angie snorts, rolling her eyes again. “I’m not fragile, Tim. Nor am I ashamed of my life and how I grew up. Hey, it got me where I am today, which is a pretty nice place to be.”
Grinning back at her, I stop walking, tugging her into my arms and kissing her thoroughly. “I suppose it is pretty nice.”
