He shook his head. “In real estate, you learn to look for hidden potential. Watch your step.”
He steered me across the showroom, one hand on the small of my back. My skin tingled at that light, possessive touch. He raised the lamp. A quilt was spread over the ugly blue carpet in the space created between the brick wall and a cheap veneer shelving unit. The light fell softly on a vase stuffed with flowers. There were pillows. Candles. All the trappings of romance.
I looked from the picnic basket to the champagne chilling in a bucket of ice, and the butterflies in my chest took flight in a flurry of color and joy.
“I... Wow.”
“Glad you like it.” He popped the bottle. Poured.
Bubbles swirled in giddy counterpoint to the butterflies. I took a cautious sip. “What are we celebrating?”
“I was hoping... Your decision to stay in Bunyan.”
Holy freaking cow. Was this... More than a sign. Was this...it? I trembled. “Trey, I... I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything yet.” He smiled and topped off my glass. “The lease is yours. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. We’ll work it out.”
The lease.
I set down my wine. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Great advice. Too bad I hadn’t followed it. “I’m not playing store, Trey. Baggage is my business. My life. My livelihood. I can’t afford for it to fail.”
“You won’t fail. You’re too good.”
“Thanks.” I unpacked the basket—chicken salad sandwiches studded with grapes and pecans, two bags of chips, strawberries dipped in chocolate. “This looks amazing.”
“I stopped at Connie’s.”
“Good choice.” I laid everything out on real cloth napkins he’d obviously brought from home. “I just... I don’t know if I can make it work here.”
“You can make it work anywhere. Bunyan is a great business location.”
“If your last name is Laurence,” I muttered around a mouthful of food.
“What are you saying?”
I swallowed. “You’re Theodore James Laurence III. That gives you a certain advantage in this town.”
“You’re part of this community, too. More. I didn’t grow up herelike you did. All anybody ever saw when they looked at me was rich Mr. Laurence’s spoiled grandson from Miami. The boarding school brat. Lucky bastard. Never had to work a day in my life. Everything handed to me. Everybody watching, waiting for me to screw up like my daddy.”
I set down my sandwich. “It’s not that different growing up as the preacher’s daughter.”
“But everybody respects your father. Everybody admires the Marches. Your mother. Your sisters, too. I admired you. Hell, I wanted to be one of you.”
So much that you wanted to marry Jo? So much that you’d settle for... me?I pushed the thought away. “You’re not that boy anymore, Trey. You don’t have to prove yourself to anybody.”
“Except my grandfather.”
“Your grandfather loves you.”
“He thinks I’m a slacker. Like my dad.”
I hesitated, aware of trespassing on quicksand. “You’re not your dad. But you’re not exactly...”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Fulfilling my potential? I’ve heard that before, thank you, Teacher.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
“No, please.” He took a brownie, gestured with it grandly. “Go on.”
