Method - Kate Stewart Page 0,49
with you to Egypt?”
“Yeah, pack a bag and come with me,” he says with baffling ease.
“Uh, no, I can’t come to Egypt.” He kneels on the bed, and I sit up, pulling the sheet over my exposed breasts. He lowers it with a scowl.
“Why not? Because of work?”
“Yes, well no, I don’t have anything until next week.”
“Great, come with me today, right now.”
“I can’t go to Egypt today.”
He draws his brows. “You have a passport, right? You said you were in France.”
“Yes, I have a passport, but…”
He tugs my legs so I’m trapped beneath him and then cages me in his hold. “Then come with me to Egypt. Just for a week.”
“You’re crazy.”
“We’ve chartered a plane and have plenty of extra seats. You can sit in the one next to me, beauty. We can get to know each other better.”
“In Egypt,” I deadpan.
He chuckles. “Yes, Cairo.”
“You realize how crazy this sounds, right?”
He looks upward as if he’s mulling it over and blows out a heavy breath. “It’s a perk, right? I mean, I can see how it might seem a little nuts, trust me. But if it’s not about losing your job, and you have a passport, what’s the hesitation?”
“Because it’s just…a lot.”
“It seems excessive, yes.” He gives a sharp nod. “But the alternative is shit. I leave you here, we don’t see each other for two months. Maybe this loses its appeal for you. I’m not willing to take that risk. Not with you.”
“You aren’t making this easy.”
He lifts a sharp brow. “Says the kettle.”
“Lucas, this has been wonderful, really…” I trail off because I’m considering it, and he must sense it because I can see a smile budding on his perfect lips. “I meant what I said this morning.”
“You didn’t really say anything.”
He plants his head on my chest. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on you answering your door naked.”
“I wasn’t naked.”
“Stop stalling. Come with me, let’s not leave it alone, not yet. Let’s explore this thing.”
It was exactly what I’d asked for—risky, consuming, a whirlwind, and still, I was terrified to embrace it. But there’s a fine line between being responsible and being predictable. So I leap.
“Okay.”
“I brought you some tea,” the woman who had introduced herself as Audrey when I checked into the inn approaches, setting it down on the table. “You’ve been out here for hours.”
I sit up in the lounge chair and thank her. “With a view like this, I don’t think many can blame me.”
“You didn’t touch your breakfast,” she presses, concern lining her features. She’s an older woman with white-tipped hair and kind eyes. Dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, she has a ‘no bullshit’ air about her that puts me at ease. “I’ll be happy to warm something up for you.”
“I’m not very hungry.”
She nods and then turns to leave before pausing and looking back at me with maternal regard. “You know, I don’t often say this to guests; in fact, I never do, but if you want to talk, I’d be happy to listen.”
“Thank you so much, but I just came to clear my head.” I look out at the endless rows of vines lined perfectly over the rolling hills. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“Thank you, my husband and I have spent our lifetime building this place.”
This piques my interest. “How long have you been married?”
“Thirty-six years this spring.” She gives me a knowing grin. “I’m guessing a few more years than you’ve been alive.”
I nod, mustering a weak smile. “A few.”
“Well, it’s taken a lot of hard work for us to get here,” she says, looking out at the sun-kissed rows of budding vines. “Maintenance, oh God, the maintenance, the cost. We’ve had some failed years so bad we didn’t think we would see another.”
I’m positive she’s not talking about her vineyard now, and I can’t help my reply. “Was it worth it?”
“That’s the golden question and deserves a straight to the point answer. Some days, I can’t imagine doing it another way. Others, I wish I had.”
I sip my tea in silent encouragement for her to continue. She takes the lounge chair next to me.
“Every person decides their own path, I guess; but ultimately, it’s a decision to stay on the one you’ve chosen, and no one in the world can tell you what is best for you—better than you.”
“I agree with that.” I sit up further, pulling a blanket at the end of the chair over my skin to batter the sunset chill. “What do you do