“You too, Lukas.”
I would deny it later to anyone who asked, but I watched that man walk away until he was out of sight. He was moving art, pure perfection. I sighed wistfully.
“I wouldn’t mind him being my whirlwind romance. I’d cross that off my bucket list with flourish,” I said to myself.
Reluctantly, I went upstairs and was greeted by Bubbles with lots of nudges and purring. I scooped her up, kissed her head at least a dozen times, as one does with a furry ball of cuteness, then set her on the floor to feed her.
“He’s dreamy, Bubs.” I placed her food in front of her. “And he spent time with me today, can you believe it? I knew I’d wear him down.”
Of course, she didn’t respond, just went about eating. I moved to the window, where Lancaster Island was in clear view.
“I wonder if he’ll ever let me visit.” Probably not, but a boy could dream. And that night I had the best dream in a long time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lukas
I staredat the stack of books and the Post-it note with Sam’s number I’d stuck to the top of it, a goblet of blood in my hand. It had been three days since I’d seen Sam. I hadn’t opened a single book, and I certainly hadn’t called him.
I was loath to admit it, but the day with Sam hadn’t been completely unbearable. I wouldn’t say it was the best time I’d ever had, but I certainly wouldn’t say it was the worst. He was quite exuberant, and I was sure if I was around him constantly, it would grate on my nerves. Everyone in town knew and loved him, and though his parents had died tragically, there was no dimming the light that emanated through him.
Vincent would be thrilled to know I’d spent time with him…and speaking of annoying pricks, he’d texted me this morning, asking how it was going. I’d answered appropriately:You gave me a month. Fuck off.
“Sir, will you require anything else this evening?” Winston asked from the doorway leading to my library.
“Winston, what do you know about a Samuel Karis?”
“The man who works at the ice cream shop?”
It was bizarre for a man in his twenties to be scooping ice cream for a living, but I didn’t understand his circumstances.
“Yes.”
“Not too much. What you already know is, he works at Cone Creations, has lived in Brookridge his entire life, his parents are deceased, no siblings. I do believe he has an aunt, but from what I gather, she’s never even met him. Apparently, she wanted nothing to do with her parents or sister for some reason and honestly, sir, she may even be dead.”
“How’d you find that out?” I quirked a brow.
“People in this town talk, sir.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Winston had come and gone from this estate for many years; he knew those who lived here.
“Thank you, Winston. That’ll be all.”
“Very good, sir. Have a nice evening.”
I wasn’t sure why I suddenly had the urge to know more about the excitable man. Perhaps it was because Vincent would grill me, and while I didn’t mind him visiting me, I knew with one hundred percent certainty that if I didn’t keep my word, he’d come here and make my life a living hell.
I swallowed down the blood, grabbed the book at the top of the stack that had Sam’s number on it, and retired to my bedroom. Tomorrow I’d venture to shore and, if I was beginning to understand Sam, he’d want to know if I’d read any books. I could lie but if he asked about any of them, it would be harder.
It wasa gray day and as I tied my boat to a cleat, I sensed a storm was rolling in. It would have to be a short visit.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Farren.” Maggie Tillman approached as I walked toward the ice cream shop.
“Good afternoon.”
“What brings you to shore this dreary day?”
I gestured to the ice cream shop, and she nodded. When she didn’t speak again, I opened the door.
