“Four. I got her as a pup not long after I moved here.”
“We had a Husky growing up. His name was Odin. He was my protector. But when he passed, my mom couldn’t handle the grief, so we never got another dog.”
There was a moment of silence and then he said, “I heard about your parents. I’m sorry. Tragic accident.”
“Right,” I murmured, pushing down the rising rage that always accompanied thoughts of my parents’ death.
A tingling on my neck had me looking up from Akiva to Ramsay. Tension tightened my grip on the dog because Ramsay McRae’s furrowed brow told me he’d noted my strange response.
“Thank you,” I replied quickly. “It’s been hard without them.”
“They left quite a legacy.”
They had indeed. Not one they were particularly proud of.
“Why give it up and come here to run a small B and B?”
So, he had done his research.
My reasons for giving up my rights to the hotel empire my paternal grandparents built, my parents had inherited, and then I inherited when my parents died in a helicopter crash, were too complicated to explain to a stranger. Especially one who barely answered normal questions. Kind of unfair of him to hit me with the hard ones.
“It suits me.” I shrugged. “I was thinking …” I stood, giving Akiva one last scratch behind the ear. “Since we’re stuck here, maybe I could show you the mood boards Cammie and I put together for the B and B? Since you’ll be doing some of the custom stuff.”
The Scot gave me a short nod. “Sure.”
I sat down on the sofa and rummaged in my backpack, looking for my phone, pulling things out to get to it. “Ah-hah.” My fingers curled around my cell, dragging it out. Ramsay had crossed the room to sit on the couch beside me and as I reached to return items to my backpack, I noted his raised eyebrow and focused attention.
On my paperback.
Heat hit my cheeks. But I had nothing to be embarrassed about, I reminded myself. I slid the book into my backpack unhurriedly.
“Was that …threemen and a woman?”
Now I flushed for a whole different reason. “Yup.”
“And … she’s a nanny? And they’re her neighbors?”
Hearing the strangled laughter in his voice, I settled down on the couch with all the primness I could muster. “Uh-huh. It’s calledWhy Choose Romance.” I stared directly into his eyes. “Any other questions?”
Those pale eyes twinkled, but he shook his head.
Tapping on my phone screen, ignoring my damp palms, I brought up the mood boards Cammie and I were working from. I didn’t care what he thought about my reading preferences, Mr. I Own Every Literary Classic Under the Sun and Probably Read theEclogues of Virgilfor Fun.
And yet my brain wanted to zoom off on a tangent, wondering what he thought about me. If he thought I was merely some dumb, nepo baby who came here on a whim with my trespassing tendencies and kinky romance novels.
Why did I care? I didn’t know this guy from Adam. He was clearly older than me and totally not my type with his gruff, short sentences and unkempt appearance.
I’d always liked my men classically handsome and charming.
Then why did it feel like every inch of my skin was abuzz with awareness?
I had to force myself not to suck in a breath when Ramsay leaned closer to see my phone. Oh, of course, he smelled amazing too. A spicy, woodsy scent either from shower wash or shampoo (it couldn’t be cologne—he didn’t cross me as the cologne type), mingled with sea air. I fought the strange and sudden urge to nuzzle my face in his corded throat.
What the hell kind of instant attraction crap was this?
3.Ramsay
She smelled like she looked.
