his worst in those days after his father kicked him out, he’d run into Gena and they spent a weekend together. It had been fun but meaningless for both of them. Flirty but nothing more.
He hadn’t felt a shot to the gut when he saw Gena like he did when he saw Hanna again, which had a weird vibe both because they were sisters and because Gena was dead.
He smiled, trying to forget the twisted road that brought them to this place. “You’re here.”
She watched his hands as he punched in the code and the electric gate rumbled open. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“You have to admit I offered you a pretty good deal.” He let the gate roll past him, then gestured for her to step inside. “Free housing and food with no expectations in return.”
He felt the need to say that. To be clear he wasn’t his father. He’d been trying to make that distinction with people his whole life.
“You’re a prince.”
“I’ll take that as a thank-you.” Because he was pretty sure that was as close as he’d ever get to gratitude.
“Should I be coming in this way?”
It had taken her less than ten minutes to lose him in conversation. “Huh?”
“I’ve always used the door on the side gate.”
“The...” Right, the service entrance thing. His father had always been very clear on separating the help—his words—from those the family invited for a visit. “You can use whatever entrance you want.”
“That’s an interesting change.”
“Is it?”
She shook her head as she reached down and grabbed her bag and jacket. “Never mind.”
Without saying a word, he took the bag out of her hand and balanced the strap on his shoulder. It didn’t weigh much, which renewed his curiosity about what she’d packed. “I know it’s strange to come back to a place you used to think of as home. It took my sister-in-law-to-be’s high-risk pregnancy to lure me back to the area. Little else would have worked.”
For a second Hanna didn’t say anything. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she eyed her bag, but then she seemed to snap out of the haze surrounding her. “I read about that. Derrick’s fiancée, right?”
Finally, a topic Carter could handle without trouble. He stepped back, closer to the house, and Hanna followed. He waited until she was out of striking range, then hit the button to close the gate behind her.
It rattled to a close as he guided them toward the main house. “Things have evened out a bit with her health but the pregnancy is still risky. Derrick is an embarrassing wreck. He’s driving Ellie, that’s his fiancée, and us, right to the edge. It’s taking all I have not to order him to stay home from work, but Ellie would kill me because then she’d be stuck with him.”
“I don’t remember that much about Derrick. He seemed pretty disconnected from the house by the time I started visiting.”
“He was mostly away at college by that point. He’s five years older than me.” Carter was thirty and Hanna a year younger. Carter knew most of the basics about her because Jackson had included those in the file, including the truth about Gena’s car accident. The police and medical examiner had termed it a suicide. Hanna never contested the finding, which made Carter think it must have been right. A finding that had crashed through him on a rush of guilt and sadness when he’d read it.
Carter needed to talk with Hanna about all of it, but he didn’t want to scare her off. There were so many secrets hovering between them and as much as Carter pretended not to care about what his father did or said these days, that unopened envelope sat on his dresser, taunting him. While it was true he’d offered her the chance to come and fight whatever demons she had, he’d also wanted her to come for him. Bigger than that, he wanted her to confide in him. He wasn’t sure why that suddenly mattered, but it did.
Something in her called out to him. She seemed lost and a bit broken. He understood exactly how that felt and wanted to help.
The curiosity about whatever secret bound her to his father also drove him. The need to know the answer grew each day. Nothing in the background search on her provided a hint, and Carter would never ask his father. Doing so might bring him back to Virginia, and he didn’t want to deal with his father at all.
Gravel crunched under their feet as they walked. Without any warning, she stopped and stared at him. “I’m not staying in the main house.”
He balanced his foot on the bottom step leading up to the front porch that spanned the front of the house. “I remember, but—”
“No.”
He blew out a long breath, trying not to let frustration overwhelm him. “Maybe you could let me finish a sentence.”
She nodded. Almost looked like she smiled, too, but if she did it flashed then was gone just as quickly. “Fair enough.”
“Until ten seconds ago I wasn’t sure you were coming because, clearly, you are unfamiliar with how a phone works.” When she started to interrupt, he held up a hand to stop her. “My point being, if I had known I would have had the cottage cleaned and aired out. Since your arrival is a surprise, and a welcome one so don’t get all grumpy on me, I thought we could wait in the house while I have the place readied for you.”
“First, I did call you.”
She had to be kidding. “Ten minutes ago, from the front gate, but go on.”
“Do you want me to text you a message right now?”
That tone. She was messing with him. No question.
“I can imagine what that message would say.” But it was tempting to let her try. Everything she did and said intrigued him, made him want to know more.
That time she did smile. Even let it linger. “Second, I clean for a living. I can handle the cottage... I want to handle it.”
Maybe it would make her feel closer to her father’s memory, but the idea still struck him as wrong. He wasn’t hiring her. He was trying to help her, though it was pretty clear she planned to fight him with every ounce of life inside her. “You’re not here to work.”
“I actually am.”
Damn, she was exasperating and he kind of loved that about her. Not many people outside of his family challenged him. Most bought into the supposed power behind the Jameson name, which was why he sometimes used a fake last name. He wanted people to know him for him, and that included her. “I mean, for me. You don’t work for me.”
“You gave me the speech about how no one would bother me. I don’t want people skulking around the cottage.”
He wasn’t the type to be knocked speechless but he didn’t have a comeback for that one. “Skulking?”
She shrugged, looking disinterested...except for the way she twisted her coat in her hands. If she tightened that death grip even a fraction she’d likely rip the material. He found her reaction interesting. Here she was, all cool and annoyed on the surface. Underneath it looked like something very different was happening. Maybe it was the stress of being back or that stupid envelope. Part of him hoped she was fighting off the same attraction that threatened to overwhelm him.
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