My phone buzzeswhile we're gathering supplies from the barn, and I see Nadia's name flash across the screen. I let it go to voicemail—I'll call her back later.
But Cat is watching me.
"You should answer that."
"It's not important."
"Could be important."
"It's my friend Nadia. She just wants to check in."
Cat raises an eyebrow. "So check in."
"Later."
There's something too perceptive in her gaze. I grab my phone and retreat to the far side of the barn.
"About time," Nadia says when I answer. "I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped by your sexy European inheritance."
"My inheritance isn't sexy. It's a farm."
"Farms can be sexy. Have you seen those calendars?" Nadia's voice is warm with amusement. "How's France? How's the house? How's the mysterious other heir?"
"France is fine. The house is beautiful. Cat is—" I hesitate.
"Cat? Her name is Cat? That's adorable."
"Catherine. She goes by Cat."
"And? What's she like? Old? Young? Horrible?"
"She's thirty-six. A chef. British." I glance across the barn to where Cat is now sorting through seed packets, humming something under her breath. "She's... not horrible."
"High praise from you." Nadia laughs. "Is she hot?"
"What?"
"Is. She. Hot. It's a simple question, Iris."
My face goes warm. "I haven't noticed."
"Liar."
"I'm not—"
"You definitely noticed." Nadia's voice goes more serious. "Iris. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"You sound different. Softer. Dare I say, relaxed?"
"I've been gardening."
"Gardening doesn't make you sound like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're actually enjoying yourself." A pause. "I haven't heard you sound like this in years. Maybe ever."
