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His suggestive question made her hand shake. “A long walk?”
He angled his head to one side. “Not exactly where I was going.”
“I guessed that.” Kaylee barely recognized this bold version of herself. Generally she was only flirtatious at the Quarter, but he brought out a naughty side of her that she often kept hidden.
He picked up the mugs and offered one to her.
She took a sip of the peppermint-laced deliciousness and warmth went through her, spreading relaxation. “Wow.” Curious about his reaction, she waited for him to have his first drink.
“I’ll need to see my dentist after this.”
Kaylee winced. “That doesn’t sound good. Is it too much?”
“On the contrary.”
“You don’t hate it?”
“In fact, I could make this a nightly habit.”
Unsure whether he was joking or not, then deciding it didn’t matter either way, she grinned. “Enjoy.”
“Would you like a tour?”
“Yes.” Evidently her enthusiasm must have spilled over because he grinned.
The first floor also featured a bathroom and a workout space. No doubt that was how he was able to indulge in occasional sweets.
Then he showed her his study. “Nothing interesting.”
Maybe to him, but to her the room was revealing. At work, he’d inherited Sylvia’s former office, and he’d made no changes—his version of austerity measures, no doubt. But here, his personality was more present.
A Bonds computer sat in the middle of a large, masculine desk. The leather chair was massive and much older than she expected.
“It belonged to my grandfather,” he explained with a shrug. “Gran wanted me to have it.”
“Fills you with a sense of duty? Obligation?”
“Both. And it’s a form of continuity. I remember him sitting in it, smoking a cigar, making decisions.”
“The past connects us to the future.”
He studied her. “Insightful. And yes. It does indeed.”
A credenza had a couple of photos on top. One of them seemed recent, of him with an older lady. His grandmother, she guessed. A second showed a much younger, more carefree Frost along with a smiling woman, his arm slung over her shoulder. “Your mom?”
Shoulder propped against the doorjamb, he nodded. “Before the downfall.”
Small glimpses into what mattered to him.
On a shelf sat a statue of an owl—reminding her of the one she’d seen on his bag at the Quarter. “What’s the meaning of that?”
“Of?”
She pointed. “Athena’s owl?”
“It symbolizes an organization I belong to.”
His vague answer sparked her curiosity. She didn’t know of any that had an owl as its logo. “What’s the name of it?”
