That was it. He was one hundred percent on his way to falling hard for Valerie.
He must be, if he was willing to try that asparagus.
Nine
By the time they reached the Badgertons’ private lane, Valerie was so jittery she felt as if she’d shoved her finger into an electrical socket. The Badgertons were richer than she had anticipated by at least an order of magnitude. Perhaps several, although learning about the bespoke heraldry should have tipped her off. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did.
A bad traffic snarl had put them behind schedule and Nico told her they’d be arriving during the Badgertons’ traditional predinner drink hour. Valerie usually adored all the little rituals that set one family apart from another, be it movie nights or Sunday pancakes, but she was less than enthusiastic at the idea of walking into a room of people taking sherry or savoring aperitivos. She checked her lipstick in the sun visor for the thousandth time as she jiggled her knee to release some nervous energy, causing her skirt to open at the split. On any other occasion she would have teased Nico for the way his gaze kept drifting down—the gap only revealed her knee, nothing naughty—but she was too unnerved to do anything but give the fabric a sharp tug. Nico’s eyesflew straight ahead and she stared at the trees overlapping the lane to create a magical dappled effect. It was like they were entering another world, one where it didn’t matter how long your driveway was because you weren’t the one shoveling it.
As usual when she got nervous, she started talking. “Does this place have a name? Badgerton Acres?”
“They call it the cottage.”
“How about Badgerton View?”
“The cottage.”
Valerie’s leg was numb by the time they came out of the trees. A circular driveway lined with carelessly parked luxury SUVs curved in front of a huge boxy stone-and-wood building.
It was go time.
Nico turned to her. “Remember, you can leave whenever you want, no questions asked.”
“Right.” This reminder that she was in control didn’t help because she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Roger high and dry. She’d agreed to this and she was going to see it through. Also she’d already sublet her apartment and spent Roger’s money.
The front door loomed like a gate that was about to release the lions, and she steadied herself for an attack as they got out of the car. None came. Nico glanced at his phone. “Roger says they’re all out on the boat.”
Valerie had spent half the drive dreaming up increasingly soap-opera-ish scenarios that began with some light insults and ended with fainting fits, theatrical slaps worthy of a pro wrestling fight, and a full dance number. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the reprieve or resentful the climax had been drawn out.
Nico put down her third suitcase with a wince. “Let’s take these to your room while we wait.”
“How are you so cool about this?” she asked, hoping the answer was something likeDrugs, you want some?
“Because the worst-case scenario is that we drive back to Toronto.”
“That’s not the worst-case scenario. What if someone attacks me?”
He looked pained that she could think a Badgerton capable of such uncouth behavior. “That won’t happen.”
“What if someone freaks out?”
“That’s for Roger to deal with. Not you.”
She blinked. It felt bizarre to simply cede responsibility but Nico was right. His straightforward approach had a calming effect as they went through a side door and climbed a small staircase, where she refrained from making a (probably accurate) joke about the servants’ entrance. When he ushered her into a beautiful sand-and-ivory bedroom with linen curtains billowing out from the warm breeze, her apprehension over the next two months was momentarily forgotten. “I’m in a Hamptons fever dream.”
Nico piled up her luggage near the wall—covered with a textured taupe paper that looked like woven grass then rubbed his shoulder. “Do you want to see the house while we wait? I can show you around, or you can explore on your own.”
“You, you.” She didn’t hesitate to claim his company because Nico had become her ally. Plus, he’d offered, and encountering a Badgerton while snooping around their place was not an experience she relished having solo. Nico didn’t say anything but she assumed from his nod that he was fine with her choice. She was starting to learn his more subtle communication cues. Where she would exclaim, he might comment. Her theatrical groans were his slight eye rolls. Her laughter was his smile.
A horrifying thought came to her. “Wait, oh my God.” She grabbed him, too tense to properly appreciate the strength of his arm, although she totally noticed. “I can’t believe we didn’t talk about this. What do I call him? Roger? Dad? Pops? Big Daddy?”
“I don’t think Pops or Big Daddy.” His face twisted in dismay as he said the last. “Do you want to call him Dad?”
“Dad.” She tried it out. “It feels wrong.”
“Go with Roger,” he advised.
She followed him into the wide corridor. The floor was light pine and the stylish irregularities of the thick area rugs broadcast their handwoven origins to even the uninitiated. A single glance confirmed that the most saturated color was a deep mushroom. The showstopper was the main room. Naturally, it was open concept. The kitchen had a white marble island big enough to seat sixteen, topped with a single wooden bowl filled with citrus fruit so perfectly matched it looked fake. A green espresso machine with La Marzocco badged on the side added a curated note of deliberate whimsy, as did a set of matched white-and-yellow porcelain patterned with petals that looked like suns. Not a single cooking smell lingered and every counter was spotless.
