Buttery warmth softened her insides. “Yeah. I’d appreciate that.”
“Just let me get my coat, okay?”
He disappeared into what Aubrey assumed was the bedroom. In his absence, she contemplated the glass-enclosed flames and, when that failed to hold her attention, began to wander. Gallant hadn’t given her a tour of his home, but she doubted he’d mind if she poked around.
She soon found herself in a hallway with a floor-length mirror at the end. She tracked her reflection’s approach, taking in the cherry flush in her cheeks, the sway of her steps. She was clearly on the wrong side of sober, and would feel like hell tomorrow.
Oh, well. No help for it now.
At the end of the hall lay the tidiest office she’d ever seen. On a desk by the far wall, double computer screens glowed. She squinted at the display. It looked like... a letter?
Sparks fired in her chest. Was this where Gallant drafted his ideas before committing them to longhand? Could this be the beginnings of letter number four?
She glanced over her shoulder, and, finding the hallway empty, started toward the computer. Just one tiny peek. If it had nothing to do with her, she’d leave it—
“Hey.”
She turned. Gallant filled the doorway, bundled into his peacoat and a camel-hued scarf. “What’re you doing in here?” Something quavered in his voice.
“Nothing. Just exploring.” She retraced her steps and met him at the doorway.
His attention flickered over her shoulder, then back to her. A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“Sorry,” she said, laying a hand on the doorframe for balance. She really was drunk. “I probably should’ve asked, first.”
He searched her face, then blew out a breath. “It’s okay. I’ll show you around next time, all right?”
She cast a glance back at the monitors, but had no hope of deciphering the words from here. “Okay.” She let him lead her away.
In the car, Gallant’s smile resurfaced. “I hope I didn’t make you feel pressured,” he said. “Because I can wait. Five dates, six, however many you want. How about seven? Eight?”
She couldn’t help but smile, relieved that he’d taken her refusal in stride. Some guys wouldn’t have. Most, actually.
In her driveway, Gallant kissed the back of her hand. “Next time, we’ll get dressed up and drive to Chicago, okay? There’s this great little oyster bar I want to show you.”
“Chicago?” She quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a two-hour drive. Each way.”
“What, you can’t handle me for that long?”
A wry smile twisted her lips. She could. So far, their dates had always wrapped up before she’d had a chance to truly dig in, and she relished the idea of changing that.
But she didn’t need to dress up and spend two dollars per bite in a fancy oyster restaurant to do it. The idea of spending six hours in his living room tempted her just as much.
“Come on,” Gallant crooned, clearly mistaking her silence for hesitation. “If you say yes, I’ll write you another letter.”
“Really?” Softness bloomed within her like a flower. “In that case, when can we go? Tomorrow? No, scratch that. How about tonight?”
He laughed. “I’ve got some contracts to draw up tomorrow. And some listings to get done in the next few days. But let’s plan for next Wednesday?”
She bit her lip. An entire week. But if he could be patient, so could she. “Next Wednesday. Sounds great.” She leaned in for a kiss, then climbed out.
As the Tesla’s taillights painted ruby lines across the darkness, she thought of what she’d said. Five dates, but really, she’d meant fiveletters.The first three had drawn her further and further into his orbit.
A couple more like tonight’s, and she wouldn’t be able to help but fall for him.
19.
Seventeen years ago
