totally head over heels in love with Aidan.”
I push a lock of my dark hair behind her ear, shaking my head. “No. Definitely not.”
Rachel grins. “You are!”
I give her a withering glare. “And you’re not still hung up on my brother? Why else would any sane person still be here when their ex turned up?”
She blushes prettily. “If I protested too hard, my father would make sure that I was on the very next plane back to Manhattan.”
“Yeah right. You have it bad for Grayson. You always have. It’s almost gross if it wasn’t kinda sweet.”
She frowns at me. “I’m not sure that I’m glad you are here, Olivia.”
That makes me give her a devilish grin. “I won’t say anything to my brother if you don't tell Aidan all the crazy things you’ve been saying. Deal?”
She rolls her eyes. “Deal.”
“Speaking of Grayson…” I nod my head to where Aiden and Grayson have stopped outside the mess hall. They are clearly arguing about something, but I don’t know what.
She wrinkles her nose, sliding off the table. “That’s not a bad idea. The mess hall should be serving dinner about now.”
I stand up, dusting myself off. “That sounds delightful, actually.”
“I have to grab a jacket out of my cabin. I’ll meet you there?”
I stare at Aidan again, my bottom lip caught between my teeth. I suck in a breath. “Sure, yeah. See you there.”
Mulling over the situation, I head toward the mess hall. Before I can get a hundred yards closer to the mess hall, Grayson jogs over to me, a frown lining his face.
“What?” I ask, looking around me. There is no one there, though, no one else who might be the object of his frown. “Am I in trouble or something?”
He looks a little uncomfortable. “Olivia, I didn’t want to have to talk to you about this…”
I made a face. “So don’t.”
“I think it’s necessary. Aiden—”
“Oh god,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “Please don’t.”
Grayson reaches out and grabs me by the arm, looking at me with a hard expression.
“I am serious, Olivia. Aiden is going through a really rough patch right now. And… he may try to… you know, romance you…”
I’m half mortified, half outraged. “Grayson, shut up. I can take care of myself.”
He grips my arm harder. “I know you can. But I’m saying… if he does try to… talk about sex with you…”
“Stop,” I plead.
“I’m just telling you that you can do better. And you’d only be a last resort for him. You know?”
That hurts, big time. Ripping my arm from his hold, I growl at him. “Are you done?”
His light-colored eyes study me for a moment, then he nods. “Yep.”
Shaking my head, I stalk toward the dining hall. Grayson doesn’t even know anything about it.
…does he?
Chapter Sixteen
Aiden
Almost a week passes. A week in which Olivia and I have seen each other in the main house or outside our apartments and still somehow neither of us has said a word to the other. That’s mostly because apparently Grayson caught me looking at her during our most recent trip to Whiskey Bend. I remember perfectly what Grayson whispered to me outside the mess hall.
You and Olivia, working so closely together… I just don't want any wires to get crossed. She deserves someone loyal and faithful. You are a good friend, but that one woman thing isn’t really for you. You’re a player. Find someone else to chase.
He’s absolutely right about that. I’m the biggest player I know, and no good for her besides that. I do need to find someone else to focus my obsession on. It’s just hard, because there is no one else even close to my age at the Morgan estate.
It’s rainy and gray outside today, cutting my house painting short. So after talking with Margaret, I’ve decided to start working on the inside of the house. I discover another set of stairs past the level with the ballroom, tucked away at the end of the hall. After climbing them, I find myself in a long passageway, the whole thing sprinkled with closed doors.
Unable to help myself, I go down the passage, opening all the doors. Most of them just open onto attic spaces, the rooms oddly shaped and containing nothing but a few sheet-draped pieces of furniture. One room proves to be a treasure trove, though.
It is packed to the brim with the ghostly shapes of old furniture, antique candelabras, and trunks that look like they should’ve gone down with the Titanic. I start sorting