“No, I mean pants.” I pushed back, playfully.
He ran his finger along the rim of his china teacup. “Sophie would have liked you. She loved to contradict me. Nudged me to be better.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“I believe so.”
I had to turn from his smoldering look. Holy mother did he do that well. I picked Henry up and set him on my lap almost like a security blanket. “So, tell me why this little man only owns shorts.”
“For the aristocracy, it is a tradition that goes back several centuries, when young lads would be dressed in gowns until they were ‘breeched’ and put into shorts. They didn’t wear trousers until around eight years old. As much as Sophie didn’t like the rules of growing up titled and wealthy, she did appreciate tradition.”
“Would she be upset if Henry wore pants?”
Miles’s brow crinkled. “Hmm. That is a very good question. What do you think, Henry? Would you like some trousers?”
He puffed out his chest. “I’m a big boy.” He must have known on some level that getting trousers was a rite of passage. “Daddy wears trousers.”
Oh, my heart. I kissed Henry’s head.
“Would you like some trousers like Daddy?” Miles asked.
Henry nodded vigorously.
“Trousers it is.” Miles glanced up at me. “Does Carrington Cove have a children’s boutique?”
“They do.”
“Let’s add it to the list of places to visit today. Now, where to next?”
An unexpected tiny thrill ran down me with the thought we would be spending even more time together today. “I’ve been thinking about where Isabella and Dexter might stay, and I think I know just the spot.”
Chapter Eighteen
MileslookedaroundCarringtonRanch with wide-eyed wonder as he got Henry out of the car. I knew it was the right choice as soon as we turned into the entrance and drove far enough in to see some of the cabins that were available to rent in the summer. Miles had pulled over to the side of the road and jotted down several notes, not saying a word, but his furious scribbles said it all. I wondered if that mean Isabella was speaking to him again.
“Your friend Emma grew up here?” Miles set Henry down and took his hand.
“She still lives here.” I pointed down the gravel road. “She and Sawyer are staying in her late mother’s cabin while their new cabin is being finished.”
“Her mum’s cabin? What about her father?”
I met him around the car. “There’s a story there. Her biological father and mother lived there, but he died when Emma was a baby. Mr. Carrington, who was best friends with Anders, the biological father, stepped in to help take care of Emma and Mrs. Carrington,” I choked. Did I ever miss that woman. She was like a second mother to me, to all ofEmma’s friends. “From there, their love blossomed, and they married.”
“When did she pass away?” Miles asked concerned.
“Just over two years ago.”
“You were fond of her.”
“Yes, and of this place. There are a lot of good memories here. Emma, Jenna, Brad, and I used to run all over the ranch and up the mountain trails, especially in the summer. There’s a lake and a stable full of horses.”
“Is that so?” Miles’s eyes darted around looking for the stables.
I figured he might be interested in that. I had seen pictures of him online playing polo or at polo tournaments.
“Horsey!” Henry was excited too.
Mr. Carrington walked out of his grand log cabin with Mrs. Carrington’s mark still on it. Her big pink wreath adorned the door no matter the time of year now. Mrs. Carrington loved pink everything.
