“What am I doing?”
He fights a grin. “You’re trying to redirect this conversation.”
“I answered your question.”
A breeze shoots through the carriage and ruffles the end of my sweater. I pull it tighter to my body as we take a slow, wide turn next to a stately fountain. Kids stand around it and toss coins into the water.
When I look back at Holt, he’s still watching me.
“I heard from Yancy today—my assistant,” I clarify. “She said that we should be back in the building this week.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
He reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. The tenderness of his gesture makes my heart swell.
“I’m more concerned about something else,” he says.
“What’s that?”
He pulls his hand back and relaxes back against the velvet. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he eyes me carefully.
“Why do you have such a hard time opening up?” he asks.
“I didn’t know I do.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t,” I insist. “I just choose not to spill all the details about my life to anyone who will listen.”
“I’m not just anyone who will listen, Blaire. I want to get to know you.”
“You do know me.”
He’s not impressed.
“I’m not as interesting as most people,” I say. “I spend my time in the office, in a courtroom, or at home. I don’t have a lot of hobbies. I don’t have a lot of friends. There’s no time for it in my life. I told you this already.”
“You did. You told me all of that—all of that superficial, first-date bullshit that doesn’t say anything aboutyou. You know this. You aren’t stupid.”
His tone cuts through me.
My chin lifts, my heart beating in a well-practiced rhythm. It’s my go-to, my auto-response when I’m at work and being haggled by a judge or attorney. I don’t let them see me sweat.
I won’t let him either.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’m not stupid. What I am, however, is intentional.”
“So you’re intentionally choosing not to share anything about yourself with me?”
“In a way, yes.”
He sighs and shakes his head.
“What does it matter?” I ask. “I will be gone in five days, tops.Does it matter how I feel about marriage? Or what flavor ice cream I like best? Or … anything? No, Holt. It doesn’t.”
“Someone really burned you, didn’t they?”
