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“Most of his staff left when he died.” I glance between the duo. “This big of a job could make for a nice father-daughter project.”
His face lights up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After he and Molly say their goodbyes, the two of us casually make our way down the drive.
The sky is splashed with hues of red, orange, and purple as the sun sinks below the horizon. The air is crisp with a late February chill, but for the first time since I arrived, I feel a whisper of certainty. I’ve accomplished exactly what I came here for, and I’m one step closer to getting back home.
“I can’t believe you told him I’m going to move in with you,” Molly says, kicking a pebble across the pavement. “And just so we’re clear, I absolutely am not.”
“What kind of engaged couple doesn’t live together?”
“The kind who doesn’t share a bed,” she fires back.
“Is that a firm no, then?” I ask, secretly thrilled by her annoyance.
She ponders this a moment.
“I suppose I’ll move in with you, but only because it would raise suspicion around town and to my dad if I didn’t.” She pauses. “With the condition that I have my own room. Where I will be sleeping alone.”
When she juts her hand out for me to shake, I begrudgingly agree.
“I would think out of all the requirements, living in a mansion would be the least of your complaints.”
She stops, peering up with that expressive gaze of hers. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“No,” I lie, knowing damn well she saw me.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Pushing all my buttons. Convincing my dad to tolerate you.”
“He likes me,” I say coolly. “We’re on a first-name basis which, I’ll remind you, I made happen in a matter of minutes.”
The tip of her finger jabs my chest. “You know what you are?”
“I get the feeling you’re going to tell me.”
Her mouth twists as if trying to conceal a smile. “You, Rowan Kendrick, are a big, broody brat.”
“Am not.”
“You are!” She laughs, softening me toward her more than I care to acknowledge.
“I merely know how to get my way.”
“Spoken like a true brat,” she says when we reach the Corvette.
We’re quiet as the weight of the afternoon settles between us, and she leans her hip against the car, focusing on the thoughtless patterns she draws on the paint.
What’s left of the sun’s light catches her skin, giving it a golden glow, and I try like hell not to picture myself lifting her up on the hood and then laying her flat on her back.
How soft would her skin be against my lips as I traced a line down her stomach with my tongue? Her muscles would clench as I inhaled that decadent scent of hers, driving me wild as I traveled lower. And once I dragged those pants down her tempting legs, I’d bury my face between them with her shouts of pleasure ringing out like music to my ears.
My thoughts are too vivid to be fake, and that’s dangerous for someone like me, who can’t offer her more than a temporary distraction from our normal lives.
Caught by my stare, Molly quickly glances between our feet. I sense that Wade might be to blame for making her insecure, and as curious as I am to know why, I don’t fucking like it.
I open the door before taking a seat. “See you tomorrow, wife.”
She steps back, tripping over the curb before catching herself, and embarrassment blooms across her face. “Not your wife.”
