Makhi cocks his head as he watches her disappear into the kitchen, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t think Nance would have?—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nash cuts in. “It’sNance.”
We all look at each other and start laughing at the crazy idea of Nance shoving Nash’s dad off the roof.
“Nance wouldn’t do something like that,” I say, still laughing.
My smile disappears, replaced with a frown when I recall how determined she has always been to protect Nash. And her warning to stay away from the roof.
A moment of doubt hovers in my mind, and not just mine. Nash is looking thoughtful. When he notices me watching, he grins, “Nance?”
“Crazy,” I say, shaking the thought of Nance killing anyone out of my head.
It’s the next day, and I’m going on an early afternoon bike ride.
“You still haven’t taught me to ride,” I say to Makhi as he leads the way out of the villa.
Nash had it shipped over with the grand piano from Arizona.
Riding in Massey was fun.
Riding in Provence is incredible.
“I haven’t, have I?” he says with a grin.
“I still haven’t forgiven you for slamming a door in my face,” I tell him severely, just in case he thinks I have.
He lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckles, making my breath catch. “Haven’t you?”
“Just because I have a reaction when you kiss me doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. It just means my body likes it.”
He dips his head, his mouth hovering over mine. “Your body has so many interesting reactions when I do things to you.”
“Stop seducing me,” I whisper, fighting to keep my eyes on his and not on his mouth.
The corners of his eyes tighten in a smile. “Why? Is it working?”
Scowling, I step around him.
And I slam to a stop.
I point. “What’s that?”
The basket at the end of his bike is new. When we ride, it’s us, helmets, the clear blue sky and the sun bronzing our bare shoulders.
My traitorous body betrays me again when he drops a kiss on my neck and wraps his arms around my middle. “Thatis a picnic I asked Nance to make for us. I thought we could go for a ride, eat a little lunch, and…”
“And?” I turn to look up at him.
“And,” he says with finality, ignoring my glare when he hides what other plans he has for us. Grinning, he snags my hand and leads me to the bike. “Come on.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Nance hates you. Why would she prepare the food for a picnic?”
“She’s secretly in love with me.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m going to tell her you said that,” I warn him.
He actually looks concerned.
