by Ivy Layne
The night before had been beyond anything I'd expected. I won't lie. Since the night we’d met when I grabbed her in the dark, I'd been imagining getting Sophie naked. I'd had my hands on her, and I knew what she was hiding under that bulky robe and her starched camp shirts.
For almost as long, I'd known this was about more than her body. Meeting Sophie had been a one-two punch—I touched her, I heard her voice, and I knew.
Sophie Armstrong was it for me.
Coming back to Winters House should have been it. Should have been the thing that made me feel at home. I'd grown up there. But when I'd walked through the door, I'd only felt out of place. With Sophie, I was home.
Everything about her called to me. Her stubbornness, her kindness. The deft way she handled Amelia—keeping her out of trouble without trying to squash her spirit. Her smile, and the sweet, soothing tones of her voice. It didn't hurt that she was sexy as hell and looked like an angel with all that silvery blonde hair and those green eyes.
By some kind of fucking miracle, she seemed to see something in me that she liked. We hadn't known each other long, but I knew in my gut that Sophie wouldn't have slept with me for sport. The way she kissed me, the way she’d stayed with me that night in the library. Sophie never would've let that happen unless she felt it too.
We had a chance for something if I didn't manage to fuck it up.
I wasn't going to fuck it up.
I grinned, remembering the way she’d gotten me to agree to talk to a shrink. Smart, stubborn, and a little sneaky. I liked it. It didn't hurt that she'd agreed to see one herself. I could deal with my own mess. I'd seen this kind of thing before. I knew what I was dealing with, and I knew it would be a lot easier to handle with help.
I just didn't want to go. Who did? No one. Especially guys like me. We spend our lives training to handle every eventuality. To never give up. To push to the end. Seeing a shrink is like admitting we can’t handle it. Fuck that. I can handle anything the enemy can throw at me. I've proven it over and over.
I could handle anything except the nightmares and the insomnia. The volatility and bursts of temper. That shit wasn't me.
It had been just over a month since I'd made my way out of that hidden camp in the desert. Too soon to expect to feel normal again. Fuck, I had no idea when I could expect to feel normal again. Another reason seeing a shrink wasn't a bad idea. All the times I’d given that advice to other guys, never thinking I’d have to take it myself.
If not for Sophie, I might've spent who knows how long insisting I could handle it on my own. One look into her green eyes, wet with tears, and I hadn't been able to say no. I could've gotten through my shit on my own. Eventually.
Sophie deserved better. Her husband had been dead for two years, and she was still trapped by fear. She deserved to move on. She deserved to feel whole and strong. Seeing a shrink wasn’t a magic pill that would fix everything, but it was a start.
I’d call Cooper first thing and see if he could recommend anyone. I knew he'd have a name for me, and I hoped he'd have one for Sophie as well.
Thirteen years ago I'd walked away from my life. I was ready to take it back. Sophie was my catalyst. She was my reason.
All those long months locked in a cell had given me time to plan. I’d decided I was coming home, decided I was taking back my place in my family and in our company, but it hadn't seemed real.
I'd walked through the doors of Winters House feeling out of place and off balance, as if my goals were a consolation prize. All my dreams felt like something to do because I didn't have anything else. I was alone, alive when I hadn’t expected to be, aimless and lost. Until Sophie.
She made me want more. For her, I wanted to be the man I imagined I could be. I wanted to give her everything she should have. A home. Stability.
Love.
Let's not bullshit around. I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Sophie had proven she was more than capable of providing her own home and her own stability. But I could give her love. I just had to convince her she wanted it.
I turned the corner on the loop that would take me back to Winters House and mapped out my strategy to win Sophie. She already had feelings for me, or she wouldn't have let me in her bed. And she liked having me there. No one was that good at faking it.
Sophie had loved the way I touched her, the way I’d fucked her. I wasn't above using sex to win her over. It wouldn't be a hardship for me. Finally getting into Sophie's bed might've been the high point of my life.
Just remembering the way she’d taken me, her gasps and moans, the feel of her heavy, full breasts in my hands, the way her fingers gripped my hair as she rolled her hips into mine.
Time for a new train of thought. Running with an erection is not fun, though that wasn't a problem I'd had before.
I needed to think. I needed a plan. I didn't think getting into Sophie's bed would be the problem. She might even invite me back if she wasn't second-guessing herself this morning. No, the hard part would be bringing our relationship into the open. As far as I knew, other than Aiden's vague warning before he left on his trip, no one had any idea there was something between us.
Knowing Sophie, she'd want to keep it that way. She’d say she worked for my family, which made me off-limits. Except, I was pretty sure Aiden would kick me out of the house before he'd fire Sophie.
If Aiden fired Sophie, Amelia would go ballistic. No one wanted to handle Amelia if she was pissed. I shuddered to imagine the shit she would pull without Sophie to rein her in. Sophie's position in Winters House was safe. I just had to prove it to her.
I tried to catch her at breakfast, but Mrs. W informed me that she and Amelia had left while I was in the shower, planning to eat out and then go for a walk in Piedmont Park and the Botanical Gardens.
After a few not-so-subtle questions I learned they didn't have any plans for the afternoon. I sent Mrs. W a wink and went upstairs to tackle the rest of the homework I'd gotten from Charlie. She’d said she had more when I was done with this batch and was ready to move forward. I was starting to get a picture of the scope of the company's dealings.
I wasn't ready to get back to work, but I would be soon, with Charlie's help. While I was at my desk, I made a few calls, nailing down details on wedding stuff too small for the planner to bother with. I sent Charlie a quick update email and let her know I’d be stopping by later.
When I was done, I touched base with the head of the Sinclair Security team at the house checking the alarm. So far they hadn’t been able to find a weak point in the system, but they were going to keep looking until they did. Someone was getting into Winters House without setting off the alarm. No one would be safe until we figured out how they were getting in and stopped them.
I was waiting in the kitchen when Sophie and Amelia returned, their cheeks flushed pink from the cold, Sophie laughing at something Amelia had said. She stopped short when she saw me, the color in her cheeks deepening to red. Her eyes met mine shyly, then flicked away.
To Amelia, I said, “If you two don't have plans, I'd like to borrow Sophie for a few hours.”
Amelia gave me a speculative look. “That depends. What did you want to do with her?”
“I thought I would take her out for lunch, then to Annabelle's for a hot chocolate. I have to stop and see Charlie, and I thought Sophie might want to see their new project.”
“It's not my day off,” Sophie started to say, but Amelia cut her off.
“Don't be silly. When a handsome young man wants to take you out to lunch, you don't spend the afternoon with an old lady.”
Sophie rounded on her, sending me a quick glare before saying to Amelia, “I can spend my afternoon how I want. And you are not an old lady.”
“Are you saying you don't want to go to lunch with Gage?” Amelia asked, sweetly. This was going better than I'd hoped. If Amelia was on my side, Sophie didn’t have a chance.
Before Sophie could answer, Mrs. W bustled in the kitchen and, seeing Sophie
and Amelia, said “You're back. Will you want lunch or did you eat? Abel went to the market, but I can fix you a sandwich—”
“Soup and a sandwich are fine for me,” Amelia said. “Sophie and Gage are going out for lunch.”
Mrs. W turned and looked from Sophie's face, flushed and annoyed, to mine. She smiled and said, “That's lovely. You two have fun. The rest of the family will be here around five for pre-dinner cocktails, so make sure you’re back by then.”
“We will be,” I promised.
Sophie stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can make my own decisions, and I never said I was going anywhere. It's not my day off. I shouldn’t—”
I stepped in front of her. Looking down, I said quietly, “Sophie, would you please take the afternoon off and come out to lunch with me?”
She let out a breath and stared up at me, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Gage, I don't think we should—” she cut off and looked quickly from Amelia to Mrs. W, taking in their unabashed interest in our conversation. “It's not a good idea.”
“Why isn’t it a good idea?” Amelia interrupted in a strident voice. “Is there something wrong with my nephew?”
Sophie attempted a retreat, but her back hit the kitchen island, and she was stuck. She shook her head, looking at the three of us ranged around her and said, “Of course not. Of course, there's nothing wrong with Gage. But we shouldn’t—I can't just leave Amelia and—”
She sent Mrs. W a beseeching look. I braced. Mrs. W was notorious for her strict adherence to the line between help and family. Amelia might be on my side, but Mrs. W would be on Sophie's.
She shocked the hell out of me when she tilted her head to the side and studied Sophie, then me, and said, “I'll keep Amelia company, Sophie. Go out to lunch with Gage.”
We all stared at her in shock. Mrs. W went on, as if nothing were unusual, and said, “Gage, help get Amelia settled in the dining room. I'm going to make her soup and a sandwich, and I'd like a moment alone with Sophie.”
Chapter Twenty
Gage
Without another word, I hooked my arm around Aunt Amelia’s shoulders and ushered her out of the room. Sophie looked uncertainly at Mrs. W, still chewing on her lower lip. As soon as we cleared the kitchen, Amelia murmured, “I never thought I'd see the day that old battle-ax and I agreed on something.”
“Don't call Mrs. W a battle-ax,” I said.
Mrs. W was in her late forties, but she looked a decade younger. She had the posture of a ballerina and the kind of bone structure that told you she’d been beautiful in her twenties and would still be beautiful when she was Amelia’s age. Even in her severe dresses, with her dark hair in a tight bun, she was in no way a battle-ax. “I don't understand why the two of you have never gotten along, and I don't want to know. I'm just glad she's on my side.”
Amelia let me pull out her chair. When I went to leave, she said, “Sit. Sophie will be in the kitchen for a few minutes, and I want to talk to you.”
I sat in a chair beside Amelia's. “Don't you want lunch on a tray in the living room or the library?” I asked. The dining room was huge, with more than enough room for the entire family plus guests. Lunch for one would be lonely at the long table.
Amelia smiled and looked around the room, her dark eyes taking in the polished table with loving warmth. “I have a lot of good memories from this room, Gage. When you get to my age, memory can be company.”
I thought of all the meals I'd eaten in that room when my parents had been alive and the whole family packed the table. Later, nightly dinners with Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia surrounded by my siblings and cousins. They were all here, the living and the dead, a part of the very fabric of this room, this house.
I’d spent so many years running from my memories, haunted by them. I never stood still long enough to see that Winters House was the one place where my family was always with me, even those that were gone.
“I know what you mean,” I said, finally. Amelia reached out to take my hand and squeezed.
“I know you do.” She gave my hand another squeeze and held it in hers. “You take care of that girl, Gage. I know you too well to think you're playing with her, but I need to warn you anyway. If you don't treat her right, I'll be very disappointed in you.”
After a long silence while I tried to come up with some kind of response, something funny, something that would deflect the seriousness of the conversation, I gave up and just said, “I think I'm falling in love with her.”
Amelia gave me a brilliant smile and said, “I already know that. You two think you're so subtle. The looks you were giving each other over cards yesterday, I thought you were going to set the library on fire.”
“Don't tell Sophie that,” I said. “She'd die of embarrassment.”
“I know that, foolish boy. I can keep things to myself when it's important. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, and I know that you’re head over heels in love with the girl. I'm just asking you to be careful with her.”
“I will,” I promised. Standing, I pressed a kiss to Amelia's wrinkled cheek and left, saying, “I'll tell Mrs. W you’re ready for your lunch.”
I bumped into Sophie in the hall on my way back to the kitchen. Giving me another of those shy looks, she said, “Just let me change. I'll be right back.”
Then she was gone, striding down the hall to her room. Whatever Mrs. W said to her, it must've worked. Leaning in the kitchen doorway, I watched her efficiently assembling Amelia’s sandwich as she heated soup in a small pot on the gas stove.
Seeing me, she speared me with a sharp look and said, “Don't make me regret this, Gage.”
“I won't, I swear.”
“It goes against everything I've always thought appropriate,” she said, crisply, “but Sophie has a good head on her shoulders, and she'd never think to take advantage. See that you don't either.”
I nodded. I probably should've been offended that everyone was more worried about Sophie's well-being than mine. This was my family, not hers. It was just one more reminder that she'd been here, a part of their everyday lives, and I'd been gone.
But, as much as they adored Sophie, I knew that if Amelia and Mrs. W didn't trust me to take care with her, they wouldn't be scheming to get her to go out with me. In a weird, backward way, them pushing me and Sophie together felt like forgiveness.
Mrs. W and Amelia were easy. Aiden, however, would be a problem. I’d deal with him later. For once, his long hours and habit of avoiding me were coming in handy.
Sophie came back down the hall wearing the same jeans she'd had on before, now with a red wool turtleneck sweater. She’d taken her hair down, and it spilled over her shoulders in silvery blond waves. The sweater covered every inch of skin above her waist, but it was snug and did nothing to hide the full swell of her breasts or the curve of her waist.
I stared too long before I caught myself, imagining peeling up the soft red wool and sliding my hands over the creamy skin beneath.
Mrs. W cleared her throat. “We'll be back in a few hours,” I said. “Is anyone using the Land Rover?”
“I think Abel took it to the market.”
Damn. I needed to get my own car. It hadn't been a priority in the short time that I’d been home. Sophie interrupted, “We can take my truck.”
That piece of crap truck in the garage was Sophie's? I'd assumed it was Abel's. Looking down at her I said, “Okay, but I'm driving.”
She laughed and bumped her shoulder into my arm. “Are you one of those guys who never lets the woman drive?”
I took her hand in mine and pulled her through the kitchen to the mud room and garage, giving Mrs. W a quick wave as we left. “Is that a problem?” I asked.
I hadn't really thought about it like that, though if I were being honest then yes, I was definitely the kind of man who didn't like the woman to drive.
“I don't know,” Sophie said. “I guess it depends on what we're driving.”
; I grabbed the keys to the truck off the hook by the door. She'd already climbed into the passenger seat and was fastening her seatbelt. The truck needed a new paint job. The tires didn't look great either. It was a midsize model, not huge and not a toy, but it still looked too big for Sophie.
“So you don't mind me driving your truck, but if it was something else you might fight me for the keys?” I asked, trying to figure her out.
“I used to have a Volkswagen Beetle. Vintage, not one of the new ones. No way would I have let you drive my girl.”
I could absolutely see Sophie driving a vintage VW beetle, and at her comment, I couldn't help but laugh. “Sophie, Angel, there is no way in hell I'd fit into a vintage Beetle.”
She let out one of those giggles I loved, and something in my chest squeezed. “If you were driving a Beetle before, what made you buy this?” I asked, turning the key and wincing at the coughing rumble of the engine. It didn't sound very reliable. As I put it in gear and backed out of the garage, I thought it sounded like the transmission was going to fall out any second.
“I didn't buy this; Charlie lent it to me. Lucas bought her a new truck a few days after my Beetle died. I didn't want to spend money on a new car—I barely drive as it is—and Charlie didn't feel like selling this one, so she said I could borrow it.”
“Lucas bought her a new truck?” I asked. Charlie was fiercely independent, and I couldn't see her letting any man, even her fiancé, buy her a truck.
“He hated this one when she bought it,” Sophie said, “I got the impression they fought about it. A lot. And when he went behind her back and bought her a brand-new one, she decided it wasn't worth fighting over anymore. I kind of think she gave me the truck to prove to Lucas that he couldn't make her sell this one, even if he bought her a replacement.”