He closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. That was a pretty insensitive question.” He took my hand, kissed my palm. “If you could go anywhere right now, where would it be?”
I didn’t hesitate. I’d imagined the place for most of my life. “A quaint seaside village in the UK where you can smell the salt in the air and feel the breeze on your face. And I’d live in a beautiful old house with a view of the water. It would have walled gardens filled with roses where we could take our tea in the afternoon or lounge in a hammock reading. And there’d be lots of room for Henry to run and play and climb trees. We’d have a dog or two and maybe some sheep.”
“Well, that’s certainly specific,” Whit said with a warm chuckle. “Not sure we could find all of those amenities in an Airbnb.”
I flushed. “Sorry—it’s been a dream of mine forever. Imagining I could escape to someplace like what I read about in books helped me survive a really shitty reality.”
“Then if that’s your dream,” he said, “I’ll find it for you.”
“That’s sweet,” I hedged, “but we were supposed to be talking aboutyou, remember?”
“You don’t miss a trick,” he admitted with a grin. “So, what’s your deal-breaker question that would prevent you from saying yes?”
Good question.
“The first time we met, I thought you could’ve stepped out of a Brontë novel—a Heathcliff or a Mr. Rochester,” I said. “You don’t happen to have a secret wife hidden somewhere in an attic, do you?”
He chuckled. “Never been married, and you and I currently live in what was once the ‘attic’ at Dawes House. So, no worries there.”
“I’ve never heard you talk about what you do when you’re not at Dawes House,” I said. “You’ve only ever mentioned work. I still don’t know what it is youdo.”
“Nothing exciting at the moment,” he said with a shrug. “Just managing things for my father, his properties, investments.”
“What about friends?”
“What about them?”
“Do you have any? Or just those of us at Dawes House?”
He took a deep breath, taking time to consider his answer. “The people at Dawes House aren’t my friends. I like some of them. Respect them as elders. But they’ll always look at me as just a boy trying to fill his father’s shoes, someone who needs looking after.” He sighed. “And as for real friends… Not really. Not anymore.”
“What about family?” I asked. “You’ve never really mentioned any beyond Chase, your father and various stepmothers.”
“I guess Ihaven’ttalked much about my family,” he admitted. “I’m not all that close to any of them, except my sister.”
“Addie, you mean?” I asked with a grin, glad that he was finally getting to know the quirky little girl.
“Uh, no, not Addie,” he said.
I raised up a little at this, surprised. “You have another sister? Really?”
“Yes, really, but I grew up with this one—more or less. We had the same mother. Pretty much the only two of my father’s progeny that can claim that. I’d trust Cora with my life. And yours.”
Cora. Cora Proffitt.
CP.
That explained their frequent texts. But one question still nagged in the back of my mind, one I should’ve asked a lot sooner.
I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling awkward. “What about…other women?”
He cupped my cheek, his eyes intense, serious. “There is only you. I will never want anyone else.”
“Why?” I pressed. “I mean you must be the subject of the fantasies of many women here in Charleston or Savannah or…wherever.”
His eyes went darker, flaring with desire. “Your fantasies are the only ones I care about. And I plan to help you realize every one of them. I think we should give it a try right now.”
Heat pooled at the center of me, eager to take him up on his offer, but I lifted a brow. “I’ll hold you to that, but you’re changing the subject.”
