He nodded slowly before leaning back on the sofa once more. Sensing the easing of the tension, Riley flopped down with his large head on Sadie’s foot, emitting a little grumble of contentment that made her chuckle.
“The core mystery is strong,” Sadie said, gentler now. “Shaw’s discovery that his brother staged his own death, that he might be behind the arsons, is compelling. All these changes do is bring that core into sharper focus.”
Corbyn’s eyes lifted from the manuscript and looked at her with an expression she had never seen before. She wasn’t sure if it was surprise or the beginnings of respect, but she didn’t question it.
“You actually read it,” he mused, and she thought she might have seen what could be the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not just skimmed, but you read it.”
“That’s my job,” she replied, slightly confused as to why that would be surprising.
“You have no idea how many don’t,” he told her, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “They look for obvious errors and make generic suggestions.” His finger tapped one of her more detailed notes. “This isn’t generic.”
The compliment, backhanded as it was, caught her off guard. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and she had to fight back a grin, knowing that would certainly ruin the moment.
“I’ll think about these,” Corbyn stated, placing the pages on the table. It wasn’t an agreement, but it wasn’t dismissal either. “Your ex sounds like a git.”
The blunt assessment, and the fact that Corbyn had been the one to say it, startled a laugh from her.
“That’s… accurate.”
Riley’s tail thumped against the floor as if in agreement.
Before Sadie could respond further, Edie appeared in the doorway, a little smirk tugging at her lips as she looked between them. It was a look Sadie had learned meant the housekeeper was up to something.
“Shepherd’s pie is ready,” she announced, her knowing gaze traveling between them. “Paul set the table for four. No arguments; you both could use a good meal.”
Corbyn rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in it. Edie seemed to be one of the few who could honestly get away with bossing him around.
“Apparently, we’re eating,” he told Sadie, tucking the manuscript under his arm. “Then I have… questions. About these edits.”
Sadie hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected invitation. Dinner with Corbyn and his makeshift family hadn’t been part of her plan for the day. There was something disarming about the way he was looking at her while he waited for her to follow him to the kitchen. Corbyn wasn’t just tolerating her professional presence in this moment. Even though it was Edie’s idea, he was including her in something more personal. The realization sent a strange flutter through her chest.
“Okay,” she said simply, not trusting herself with more words.
As she followed Corbyn and Riley toward the kitchen, Sadie felt something shift. Somehow, she had managed to put a crack in the walls he had built around himself. He’d listened. He’d actually considered her suggestions, and that felt like winning a small but significant battle.
February 19, 2025
-Sadie -
“Two weeks down,” Sadie murmured, smiling as she approached the front door to the manor, “and look at me actually excited about this.”
There had been a change in her working relationship with Corbyn since Valentine’s Day. The other day, during one of their sessions, he had shocked her when he simply nodded and replied, “That works,” after she made one of her suggestions. She wasn’t entirely sure what had caused the shift, but it had given her a sense of optimism she hadn’t felt when she first arrived.
“Good morning,” Edie called from the kitchen when Sadie used the key she’d been given to let herself in. “You’re early today. Keen to get started in the lion’s den?”
Sadie smiled, setting her bag on the island. “More like eager for your tea. The inn’s is good, but yours is somehow better.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Edie said with a chuckle, already reaching for an extra mug. “I made fresh shortbread this morning.”
“You spoil me,” Sadie said, settling onto a stool at the island while Edie prepared the tea. She retrieved one of the biscuitsfrom the plate Edie had left conveniently in front of her usual stool. Taking a bite, she let the buttery flavor wash over her, a contented sigh escaping her.
This had become a bit of a morning ritual, and it was one Sadie was sure she would miss when this assignment was over. Edie had a way of making anyone in her kitchen feel at home.
“I’m just glad to have someone who enjoys it,” Edie replied with a wink, placing the mug in front of Sadie. “Lord knows Corbyn wouldn’t know good baking if it bit him.”
Sadie took a grateful sip of tea, letting its warmth chase away the last of the morning chill.
“Is he already working?” she asked, knowing Corbyn had a habit of starting work at an ungodly hour of the morning.
