“Be grateful that everyone here at Dawes House might as well be wearing shirts made of hundred-dollar bills while I’m relying on my landlord’s charity to keep my son and me off the street?” I asked. “I’ll trade you.”
After a beat, he said, “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
I sighed. “It’s okay. I’m just tired. Long day. I shouldn’t snap at you. You’ve been more accommodating than a lot of landlords would be.”
“More than you expected, if our first conversations are any indication,” he said. “I’m not used to people hanging up on me.”
I groaned and let my head hang between my shoulders for a few seconds before meeting his eyes, squinting a little from the light filtering through the trees. “And yet you’re still sitting here talking with me.”
The corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “A little rejection now and then can be good for the soul.”
I shook my head, confused by his attention. “So…why exactly did you come out here? Seems like you could’ve collected enough rejection from the other tenants to last you a while.”
He nodded, the humor gone. “I apologize for the tension when I arrived. You weren’t the only one concerned about me taking over for my father. Old family dispute. Nothing for you to worry about. They like you. You’ll do fine.”
I frowned.There’s that phrase again…
Before I could think more on it, he settled back, draping his arm over the back of the bench, stretching out long legs in tan linen pants, and crossing his ankles.
The leather summer loafers he wore probably cost more than my rent, but he wasn’t showing them off, I could tell. Old money carried wealth with effortless indifference that eluded those who were new to luxury and extravagance. Being a barista wasn’t my ideal job, but it certainly had given me the opportunity to observe all kinds of people.
“How did you meet my father?” Whit asked abruptly.
From the flowerbed, the shovel scraped stone, the sound a tinny rasp.
“Oh…uh…” I hesitated, not sure what all I should share. “He’d been a regular at the coffee shop where I was working, so I’d seen him a lot. But we didn’t really start talking until the day my mom threw me out for getting pregnant with Henry.”
“Hmmm.” That was it. Just that little musing sound. I wondered if there was more he wanted to say, but when he didn’t, I continued.
“I was in a panic about where I was going to live, what I was going to do,” I told him. “But I didn’t have any time off—and I clearly was going to need every penny—so I was at work, trying to keep from crying. I wasn’t very successful. Mr. Monty asked me if I was okay, and I lost it.”
He nodded as if understanding what I was saying. But for all his ease with me then, he still struck me as someone with carefully guarded secrets.
“Mr. Monty immediately asked my manager to excuse me from work,” I continued, “offered to pay for my missed wages, and asked me to join him for breakfast so he could hear the rest of the story and offer me privacy from my co-workers.” I laughed a little and shook my head. “I was so upset and feeling so hopeless, I didn’t even think about the fact that I could’ve been getting in the car with some predator.”
Whit turned his attention to where the kids were playing and simply said, “Indeed.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of his commentary, so I continued. “Mr. Monty was so kind to me, so caring. He told me I could stay at one of his properties, that I could move in that very evening. He would’ve done much more for me, I’m sure, if I’d asked, but I’m not someone who takes advantage of the people who give me a chance, Mr. Proffitt.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I admit, I had my doubts when I first heard about you. I actually thought he might be the father of your son.”
“You can’t be serious!” I cried, louder than I’d intended. Henry and Addie lifted their heads from their play in surprise. I smiled and waved to assure them everything was fine and then said more quietly through clenched teeth, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“My father had a habit of collecting damaged young women, Ms. Dupont,” Whit explained. “He was quick to come to the rescue of vulnerable women andthen marry them. I suspected that my father intended for you to be the next Mrs. Proffitt.”
I shook my head, refusing to allow this man I barely knew to tarnish the gilded image I held of his father. “No,” I said, leaving no room for him to argue. “Mr. Monty wasn’t like that. He was my guardian angel.”
“My father was no angel,” Whit assured me, speaking the words like they left a disgusting taste in his mouth. “And I don’t know you, Ms. Dupont. Not really.”
“Well, I’m not the kind of person who would sleep with my landlord just to get a sweet deal on my rent, Mr. Proffitt.” A tremor ran through me, but my voice stayed even. “So, if that’s what you were expecting when you offered for me to move into Dawes House, you can fuck right off. And I’ll be out by morning.”
I stood, intending to storm off with Henry and never look back, but Whit caught my fingers, gently, yet firmly enough to startle me.
“Ms. Dupont—” The pressure on my fingers increased ever so slightly. “—please don’t go. I didn’t mean…” He exhaled in a frustrated huff. “You might’ve noticed I’ve got a talent for saying exactly the wrong thing. I’m sorry for implying that you could be taking advantage of my father. If anything, I’d put the blame onhimfor taking advantage ofyou.”
His gaze drifted from my face, down my arm to my fingertips where his thumb brushed my skin. Then, as if he’d forgotten he was still holding them, he abruptly let go and cleared his throat, shifting away on the bench so that he was no longer looking at me at all.
I studied him, trying to understand what it was that had just passed between us. My skin was oddly cold without his touch. I sat back down. For a while, we sat without saying a word, listening to Henry and Addie’s chatter, a chorus of bullfrogs joining them from near the pond.
