She’d been so calm, so collected as he’d spoken about his life in Chicago, as she’d inquired about his father. Talking about his dad usually opened up old wounds, and that was something Adrian definitely didn’t want to revisit. Much like his desire to avoid the cabin and its memories, speaking of his dad had the same effect on him. Yet, he found part of himself eager to tell Goldie everything. He had the suspicion confiding in her would help somehow.
He’d loved standing on the porch and chatting with her, holding hands and drinking Cokes. In the moment, it had seemed exactly as Goldie apparently saw this place. Magical, charismatic and enchanting. Maybe it had more to do with the company than anything else.
Adrian made his way back to the kitchen to deposit his empty Coke bottle into the recycle bin. The sound of a door opening stole his attention, and his mom bustled out from what used to be the mudroom, just off the kitchen, where he and his brothers would kick off their shoes and boots after a long day of mucking out stables or riding horses. Now, it’d been converted into a laundry facility, with several machines at the guests’ convenience.
“Hey, Mom,” Adrian greeted.
“Danica is coming over later,” she said without any other preliminaries.
Adrian withheld a groan. “I’m with Goldie, Mom. She and I have plans tonight.”
While the living facility had been expanded and filled with smaller, round tables for guests to enjoy their meals in quietude, the family’s old, long dining table was still in its place behind the line of stools at the bar. His mother set her box down on the table and gave him a syrupy smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I just don’t see it. You and her.”
“What about us don’t you see?” he asked, stepping closer.
She opened the box and began rifling through the tablecloths and linens within. “Why haven’t you told me about her before now?”
Adrian folded his arms. He wasn’t about to go into this, not when he felt like both he and Goldie had already given his mom decent answers to the same question. “Did you tell Danica about Dad’s lockbox?”
Mrs. Bear snapped down the box’s cardboard flaps and gaped at him. “Why would I do that?”
The dismay on her face seemed sincere, but it was sudden enough to make him question it.
“Are you sure you don’t know where it is? I get the feeling I’m being manipulated.” If similar situations hadn’t happened in the past, he wouldn’t buy it so easily, but his mom had always been one to twist her way around him and get him to do what she wanted.
Mrs. Bear sniffed and opened the box again, directing her attention at tablecloths she’d just disregarded. Adrian stepped forward and placed a hand on hers.
That did the trick. His mom lifted her eyes to meet his. Her expression was wiped clear of anything but irritation.
“Mom, I know you want me to settle down here, and you think Danica is the key to that, but she’s not. Please stop trying to force her on me.”
“I’m not trying to force anything. I’m just trying to get you to remember how happy you were with her.”
Adrian scoffed and turned away. “Dad never understood this either. Why do you think I left in the first place?” He did his best to keep his voice calm, so the passing guests heading up the stairs wouldn’t overhear.
How could his parents, who should know him better than anyone else, not understand? Goldie had been so intuitive to guess his reasons for leaving. The woman was becoming more and more intriguing by the minute.
“You’re my son,” Mrs. Bear said. “I want you close.”
Adrian knew how sad she’d been since his dad died. He saw that same sadness swimming in her gaze now. He guided her away from the box and into a hug.
“I love you, Mom. But my life is in Chicago.”
“Your life belongs here.”
Frustration spiked through his veins. He thought his mom was opening up to him. He thought maybe this time she would hear him, but it was clear. She was just like his dad had been, stubborn and insistent. Nothing would change.
Adrian still felt like a rebellious teen when he was a grown man with his own highly successful business. His own life! His parents had never appreciated that. They never cared that he’d accomplished so much. It was why Adrian had been so determined to make something of himself, to prove to his father that his value didn’t lie in horses and ranch work.
Now, more than ever, he was determined to head back to Chicago to make sure his business continued to thrive.
“About Danica, I wonder if you two could talk. She might even—”
Adrian kissed his mom’s cheek and snatched a bagel from the counter. “Sorry, Mom. Gotta go.”
Danica could come all she wanted, but he wouldn’t be here when she did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GOLDIE WASN’T SURE IF IT was a fancy dinner or not. Two Pines wasn’t exactly a thriving metropolis. She guessed it had about as many restaurants as Baldwin had, where the nicest place to go was the local Dairy Queen.
Even so, this was a date—an actual date—with Adrian Bear. Goldie sifted through the clothing she’d packed. There wasn’t much by way of nice things. She opted for a loose floral shirt with three-quarter length sleeves and her favorite pair of jeans.
She checked her phone for the zillionth time that day, but there was still no email from Aunt Bethany. It had been three days since she’d contacted her since she’d left home. Why hadn’t her aunt replied?
The worst sense of worry began seeping in. What if the letter was a spoof? If that was the case, her mom wouldn’t have freaked out about it the way she had, but still, the suspicion wouldn’t go away. But who would have sent the letter and why?
Goldie did her best to staunch the unease. “It will be fine,” she told herself, trying hard to believe it. She would find answers eventually. For now, she needed to focus on what she could control, and tonight, it was spending time with Adrian.
She fluffed her hair and applied some sparkly lip gloss that added a bit of zing-pow to her appearance. “At least I have a way to pass the time.”
Her stomach fluttered at the prospect of an evening with him. Her hand still tingled where he’d held it. He’d also opened up to her, more than she ever expected he would. Had it been genuine or just part of the show for his mother? Mrs. Bear hadn’t been around when he’d first looped his fingers with hers.
At least Goldie wasn’t stuck grading papers as she’d previously thought. As she wasn’t one for sight-seeing—not on her own anyway; knowing her track record, she’d get lost all over again—she was especially grateful she had someone like Adrian to show her around.
Someone tall, smart, good-looking, with dark hair, great teeth, and a killer smile. Her whole body buzzed with anticipation. She checked the time, then her hair, when a soft knock rapped on the door.
Nerves jangling like bells, she made her way from the bathroom to the door, stopping to grab her purse along the way, and opened it to find Adrian standing there in his designer jeans, polo shirt, and tousled hair. He smelled like cologne and teasing possibilities. Her heart full-on banged in her chest.
His gaze raked down her frame and back up again. “You look amazing, Goldie Bybanks. Are you ready to go?”
“I could say the same about you,” she said.
Jordan passed behind Adrian with an armful of towels. “Get a room already,” he called over his shoulder.
“Don’t mind him,” Adrian said. “He’s just jealous because I’m the one with the hot date.”
Jordan’s voice trailed after them. “Actually, Taylor’s coming over later.”
Goldie giggled, joining Adrian as they made their way down the stairs. They passed through the open living room, the reception area and out to where Adrian’s Hummer was parked.
The sky was a painting of serenity and color. Clouds soaked up the splash of purples and oranges. Stars had already started to poke through the darkening blue canvas, and the moon winked at her. Goldie hugged her jacket tight
er with her free hand.
“Where are we headed?” she asked as Adrian paused to open her door. She held onto the inner handle to prop herself up onto the leather seat.
“It’s a little place, but the food is amazing,” Adrian said as he climbed into the driver’s side. “Ever heard of Stano’s?”
“Like Spaghettios?”
Adrian laughed and backed out of the drive. “Nothing like Spaghettios.”
He left one hand on the stick shift, while the other was propped on the steering wheel. Leaning casually back, sunglasses in place, he was the picture of confidence and class. How did he get to be this way? What was it about men in fancy cars that made them hold themselves to be so tantalizing?
Goldie cleared her throat and glanced away. She couldn’t keep staring at him.
“Any word from your aunt?” he asked as they sped toward town.
“Not yet,” she said. “I promise, I’m not making that up just to stay at your B & B.”
He slid her glance. “I never thought you were. I told you. You’re not an inconvenience, Goldie.”
She dipped her head. “Thanks.”
“What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I was thinking, if you have time, maybe you can give me a tour of your ranch.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that fascinating.”
“It is to me,” she said. “I’ve only ever seen anything like it on TV. I’d love to see the grounds.”
“Okay then. You tell me why you drove halfway across the country to see an aunt you could have just called on the phone, and you’ve got your tour.”
“Deal,” she said. “But only once we’re seated.”
“Deal,” he said.
Stano’s was a small place that she probably wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out. It was tucked away, behind a larger and more up-to-date law firm, Johnson-Washbuckle-and-Wilson. That was a doozy of a name if she’d ever seen one, and she pointed it out to Adrian, who laughed.
The parking lot was crammed with cars. Inside, the venue was stuffy and crowded, and there wasn’t much room in the waiting area, which gave Goldie a convenient reason to stand closer to Adrian.
A waitress approached and welcomed them, announcing it would be at least a twenty-minute wait. From the way the seats were filled, she wasn’t surprised.
“We also have seating outside,” the waitress added, “if you’re interested.”
Adrian glanced at Goldie. “What do you think? It’s a nice night.”
“Outside sounds good to me.”
The waitress led them through the cramped tables, the clatter of dishes, and noisy heat. A narrow exit was hidden behind the farthest booth where an elderly couple was seated and enjoying their meals.
Cool air was a welcome change. The veranda out back was sedate, quiet, and peaceful. Soft guitar music wafted beneath a latticed scaffold where fat bulbs offered mediocre light. It impressed Goldie to find the music wasn’t drifting from a speaker, but from a live performer wearing a cowboy hat, flannel shirt, and jeans standing behind a microphone. This was definitely more romantic. Er…spacious, she mentally corrected.
“Sit wherever you’d like,” the waitress directed.
“Where to?” Adrian asked.
Goldie pointed to a vacant table near a trickling water fountain and pave stones serving as the man’s stage. The guitar case was open at his feet and a small amplifier hanging at his belt spread the music across the small garden.
Instead of sitting across from her at the small, square table, Adrian took the metal seat right next to her. After giving them time to peruse the menu, the waitress returned with their drinks, and they ordered. Simultaneously, the guitarist on his landscaped stage ended his song. Goldie lifted her hands, ready to applaud him when she was greeted by crickets.
She glanced around. Did they not clap for people’s performances around here?
When the waitress left again, Adrian settled his chair closer in and drew her attention to him. “So?”
Goldie chewed her lip. Right. Their deal.
“My whole life it’s only been my parents and me. I never had cousins. No living grandparents. No other family. I always thought we were it, the only Bybankses around. But then, at the beginning of the month, I received this letter. Who sends letters anymore, right?”
“Sure,” Adrian said, giving her his full attention.
The waitress delivered their salads, and Goldie thanked her before continuing, leaving her Cobb salad with ranch dressing untouched.
“This letter was from Bethany Harold. Harold was my mother’s maiden name. She claimed she was my mom’s sister. She—well, look.”
Goldie unzipped her purse and pulled out the correspondence. She handed it to Adrian as he took a bite of salad.
He finished chewing and took it, his eyes scanning its contents. She knew the letter by heart by now.
Your mom insisted I stay out of your life and for good reason. I agreed to it long ago, but it’s time. You’re an adult, and if I don’t do it now, I’ll always regret it. I’d love to meet you. To explain in person.
Jacey won’t be too happy about me contacting you like this, but far away as I am, I would love to meet you. If you feel in your heart you could make the trip, would you consider coming here to Two Pines? I’d be happy to provide a place for you to stay. It would mean a lot for me to get to know you, as I never had any children to call my own.
Email might be best. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Love, Aunt Bethany
Adrian’s forehead crinkled. He passed the letter back to her. “But she hasn’t responded to you?”
“No, she hasn’t. I emailed her almost immediately.”
“Was your mother really that bothered?” he asked. “That she contacted you?”
Goldie took a bite of her salad. “Yeah. We had the juiciest argument we’ve had in a long while.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t she want you to meet your aunt? Why did she lie to you about her existence? A lie of omission, I guess, if it was something she just kept from you, but still, a lie.”
“I don’t know,” Goldie said. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I drove out here in spite of my terrible sense of direction, and why I did it without even having heard back from her. I had to know.”
“You mean she didn’t email you back before you left?”
“She did. She replied to the first email I sent saying I was always welcome. I sent her another to let her know I was leaving, and—nothing.”
“Strange,” Adrian said. “Do you know anything about her? What she does for work?”
Goldie shook her head. “No, and my mother would be annoyingly superior if I called to admit as much to her. She’s already giving me the silent treatment. I haven’t heard from her since I left.” Not since the call informing her she was coming over to burn the letter. She was probably angry that Goldie hadn’t been there when she’d arrived.
“And I thought things with my dad were bad,” Adrian muttered. He seemed to think better of what he said. He reached beside him to press her hand. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very sympathetic of me. I don’t mean to insult your mom.”
The soloist sang softly about being so in love as Goldie slipped out of Adrian’s grasp. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t.”
“You don’t like me touching you, do you?”
Goldie shrugged. She couldn’t say she’d minded when he’d held her hand earlier. If she were being honest, she was tempted to give in again. “It isn’t that.”
“What is it, then?” He took another bite of salad.
She stared down at her lap. How could she say this? The way they were acting was how people who actually knew one another—who actually cared for one another—acted. The notion that this romantic façade between them would last forever was ridiculous, and she couldn’t bring herself to behave like it would. Like he seemed to want her to.
“I don’t
want to get too carried away. I’m already getting a free room from you even though I should be paying for it. I’m playing a part with you that still makes me question everything about it. I just—I never meant to impose so much into your life when I spent the night at your family’s cabin. With you being so generous, I just don’t want to take any kind of advantage.”
He nodded. “I can understand that. But if I’m the one initiating things, you aren’t taking advantage by accepting them.”
He’d said as much, but she still couldn’t fight the feeling nagging at her. “But I feel like I am.”
“Why?”
Did he want the truth? Whether he did or not, he was going to get it. She exhaled. “Because I just met you? Because I have no way to return the favor, unless you like baked goods. Take your pick.”
“Baked goods?”
She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I like to bake. I thought I could make something in exchange for room and board. I know it won’t be enough, not by a long shot, but at least it would be something.”
This amused him. “Fair enough,” he said. “I won’t touch you again, not unless you initiate the contact. Contrary to what you might think, I’m no saint, Goldie, but I do appreciate the chance to help you.”
“Why?” she asked. Before yesterday he didn’t know she existed. Why would he possibly care about helping her as much as he had?
He swallowed, displaying the tiniest bit of hesitation that made something in her stomach flutter. He’d been straightforward enough with his questions. She was only dishing it right back at him.
He lifted his chin to look directly at her. The edges of the veranda blurred. The soft acoustic guitar thinned, slipping deeper into the background. Goldie wasn’t aware of anything but Adrian’s soulful eyes and her own pulse.
“There’s just something about you, I guess.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t expound on past experiences, helping people in need, or specify exactly what that something was, but in that moment it hooked straight into her as well.
Something.
Something about him. Maybe it was the brilliance of him beneath the stars. Maybe it was the bullseye of his attention on her or the way his leg brushed against hers beneath the table. Maybe it was the effect he was beginning to have over her, the way her mouth went dry, or the way her palms became clammy.
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