Scrunching up her face, she says, “But they’re harmless. They turn to dust if you touch them.”
“I know, and yet, still scared,” I answer with a shrug. “In fact, if one gets too close to me, I gag.”
Bree hides her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t find that funny.”
“No, go ahead. I know it’s hilarious.”
“Did something happen to you as a boy?”
I give her a quick nod. “Two older brothers and a grandmother with a butterfly-filled solarium.”
A look of understanding crosses her face. “They locked you in?”
“Overnight, yes. When I was four. Our nanny thought I’d gone to bed on my own.”
“That’s not funny at all, really,” she says, her face filled with concern.
“It’s fine. I got them back. I found two garter snakes in the garden and put them in each of their sock drawers.”
Bree laughs. “So, let me get this straight. Snakes, no problem. Butterflies…”
“I scream like a girl, yes. So you see? Not perfect at all.” Picking up her suitcase, I say, “Now, milady, why don’t I show you to your suite so you can have that bath and nap you were talking about?”
Nodding, she turns and walks to the front door. “Thanks. I should rest a bit, or I won’t have the brainpower to study.”
I follow her into the house, put the suitcase down at the bottom of the stairs, and stare at her for a moment, taking in her lovely face. She seems so worn out and lonely, it breaks my heart. “I don’t really want to leave you alone like this.”
“I’ll be fine.” She shrugs. “I should work.”
“What if…instead of sitting in here by yourself for the rest of the weekend trying to focus on those awful textbooks—which will be rather a waste of time because you’re too upset to concentrate—you let me take you out and show you how to have a spectacularly wonderful time?” My heartbeat picks up as the words tumble out of my mouth, and I find myself praying she’ll say yes because somehow the answer to that question matters so very much.
Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t.”
“Why not? You had the entire weekend booked off anyway. Give yourself one perfect day. Just one, then you can get back to your real life with a renewed vigor,” I say, giving her my most charming smile.
“I shouldn’t spend any more money this weekend…”
“Me, either, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have an amazing time. You go relax in the tub. I’ll sort out a day you’ll never forget. Meet you back here in an hour and a half?”
A painfully long moment passes as I wait for an answer. When it comes, it’s in the form of a tiny grin and a nod.
CHAPTER 20
One Fine Day
Bree
Well, I have to say, a bath and a nap was exactly the thing I needed. I’m not nearly as pathetic and weepy as I was earlier. I no longer have the irresistible urge to buy Blue Blockers, and I’m at peace with the fact that I’m not as fun as A) my sister’s idiot friends, and B) the above-ground pool my parents put in their backyard to bribe Izzy to stay over.
What I am, however, is embarrassed for crying in front of Leo. Also, I’m completely discombobulated, because it almost feels like he was asking me on a date, which he probably wasn’t, because come on, he’shim, and I’m me, and there’s no way a guy like him would want to date a girl like me. And as ridiculous as this sounds, and as much as I hate—repeathate—to admit it, I very badly want to date him. Hard. Several times in a row, to be honest. And between you and I, I haven’t wanted to date anyone since I found out I was pregnant with Isabelle. Certainly not several times in a row.
Not that I can date him. He is both my employee and my renter. Plus, the logical, reasonable, smart side of me knows exactly who he is and dislikes him for it. He’s the rich playboy who, when done slumming it here, will be on his way back to Avonia, never to return. Period. So shut up, lady bits, because as much as you want to, you cannot, will not, and won’t have him. Oh, I guess will not and won’t are really the same thing, but just to drive the point home to my lady bits. No. Nada. No sweaty, hot, hard dating. None.
But he is awfully cute. And sexy. And charming. Oh, and thoughtful. Sigh…
I reread the note he left on the kitchen table:
Bree,
