“It’s wool.”
His frown deepened. “What?”
I plucked at the hem of my cream-colored cardigan. “This. It’s wool. And very warm.”
He seemed doubtful. His eyes drifted down to my long, flowing skirt before lifting back to my face. My skin heated despite the freezing weather. Why would he care whether I wore a coat or not? He stood there in nothing but a white T-shirt I could practically see through.
I tried not to linger on the way the fabric clung to his sculpted muscles and instead focused on the obvious goose bumps rising on his skin. “You’re the one who looks cold,” I muttered.
The wind kicked up then, ruffling his dark hair.
“The bed-and-breakfast is temporarily closed.”
I deflated. That was exactly what I’d been afraid of.
“Really? Why?”
His hand tightened on the doorframe. “Personal family matters.”
His tone made me pause. Maybe something had happened with the media. As much as I wanted to stay here, there was clearly something going on—and it was probably more important than my desire to enjoy a historic home.
I stepped closer without realizing it. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
His brows drew together, eyes pinning me in place. “What are you sorry for?”
I didn’t know how I knew. I’d always…felt things. People gave off energy. Their bodies spoke louder than their words sometimes, and I’d learned to read that early on. Being sensitive to it had been valuable. I could tailor myself to what people needed before they ever asked.
His energy was sad, like he was grieving.
Whatever his personal family matter was, it wasn’t something good.
I shrugged, forcing myself to keep my voice light. “I’m sorry that you’re sad.”
“What makes you think I’m sad?”
“I just have a feeling.”
He tilted his head, something shifting in him. There was irritation there—but curiosity, too.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m sorry, too. I can’t help you.”
Before the words could fully settle, a small voice cut between us.
“Who are you?”
We both looked down at the same time.
A little girl stood at his side, squinting at me with drowsy green eyes. She wore fuzzy pink pajamas. Her dark curls were a frizzy, adorable mess.
My heart melted instantly.
I crouched down before her with a wide smile. “Hi! I’m Palmer. What’s your name?”
She studied me for a moment. Then her lips curled into a sweet grin that made my chest ache.
“I’m Hailey.”
“Hailey,” I repeated. “I love that name. It’s really pretty.”
