My (Mostly) Secret Baby - Penelope Bloom Page 0,67

two youngsters want to have a little privacy back there.”

“How young do you think we are, exactly, Dick?”

“When you get to my age, young is anyone you don’t check the obituaries for as a daily habit.”

“Or people who don’t still read the newspaper,” I suggested.

“Young people also still have the energy to be sassy. That’s one of the first things that goes. Sassiness. Well, that and not looking like a melted candle when I strip down for the shower.”

Damon shot me a half smile. “Thanks for the imagery, Richard.”

Dick drove for what felt like an hour before we arrived. I passed the time by playing a red-hot game of eye fucking with Damon. I’d never been the type to engage in ocular relations in the backseat of a car, especially one piloted by a grumpy old Dick. But Damon brought out my naughty side, and I was uncomfortably wet by the time we arrived.

It was going to be a long, excruciatingly enjoyable night, and it was just getting started.

“Where are we, exactly?”

Damon got me out of the car—still playing the gentleman, apparently. “We’re at your first lesson as an acquisitions agent. If you want to acquire someone, you start by wowing them.”

I looked around. To tell the truth, I couldn’t have said if we’d driven North, South, or burrowed our way out of the city. We were parked in some sort of grassy, well-lit garden paradise. The road leading up to the hedges was made of decorative pavers and lit by ornate lamp posts. It looked nothing like downtown or anything near it, and it was deafeningly quiet except for a faint rustling of leaves.

“I feel like someone with a British accent is going to emerge from the hedges at any minute. What the hell is this place?” I asked.

Damon gestured wide to the path we’d driven up, where Dick was now slowly reversing the car to leave us by ourselves. “This is a road. They’ve been used for centuries to—”

“Damon,” I warned.

He took a step backward, heading closer to the hedges that wound out of sight. “Do you want to learn or not?”

“I thought this was a date,” I said, having to raise my voice as he headed up the path.

“Multitasking. That’s lesson two,” Damon called over his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes but jogged to catch up with him.

I had time to take in more of my surroundings. Tall trees towered above us and seemed to catch every hint of the breeze, sending down peaceful whispers to my ears. I ran my hand along the hedges, which were trimmed perfectly flush with the path like leafy green walls.

All I could see was Damon walking ahead of me, occasionally glancing back with an uncharacteristic lightness and excitement in his eyes. I could see the trees and the hedges—the path below us.

I realized how much trust I was placing in him in this moment. For all I knew, we were seconds from the part where he reveals this has all been a ruse. He pulls out the knife, laughs, and plunges it home as I scream in my native tongue—idiot—for not seeing it coming.

Except I didn’t really believe that. I did trust Damon. I trusted him more because he’d started this whole thing out by trying to push me away.

For some reason, that made me trust him so much more. Maybe it was because I’d had the chance to watch him try and fail to stop himself from falling for me.

We finally exited the footpath through the gardens, and I got a glimpse of what we’d been heading toward. There was a colonial style mansion sitting atop a gently rolling grass hill. Windswept oaks and endless manicured lawns surrounded the property. Everything was tastefully lit, including a tennis court that was hardly visible through tall, wall-like hedges.

I arched an eyebrow. “Did you ask me to dress up to challenge me to a tennis match? Were you hoping I couldn’t still whip your ass in heels?”

Damon shook his head, pointing. “I thought it might be a treat for a tennis enthusiast to watch two of the best up close.”

I frowned, then heard the telltale pop of a ball being served. Years and years on the court had trained me to judge the speed of a hit from the sound alone, and I knew immediately there was a professional in there. “Who is that?”

“Trevor Castle.”

I paused. “The same Trevor Castle who you nearly killed in Savannah?”

Damon gestured for me to follow him toward