his silhouette—“is Rowan. Rowan Peterson.”
“Yeah, I got his name in the midst of everything.”
I give her another nervous laugh. Her tone carries a light note, telling me she’s not as mad at Rowan as he is at himself. “Yeah, he meant well. He’s more about details where I’m more of the people person.”
I walk over near her, setting the bottle of the 2010 Leoville Las Cases on the counter. Her eyes fall on the wine I’ve place next to her. “So what you’re telling me, Knox Glacier, is that you two complete one another.”
I’m hoping for a little bit of flirtation in her tone, but I don’t get any. I see her humor, and it adds to her beauty.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’re a perfect match for one another.” I grab for the bottle near her, placing it in her line of sight. “I know this doesn’t make up for the almost heart attack, but here is a bottle of wine for you.” She grabs it, and when her eyes widen, she must understand the class of my gift. “This dark is one of the most unexpected, one-of-a-kind, intense red Bordeaux wines you’ll ever try.”
“I’m aware of the wonderfulness of it, and normally, I wouldn’t accept it, but draining the entire bottle will be a chore I may very well enjoy.”
Again, her humor comes out in droves. And I’m laser-focused on her, on everything from how her long legs disappear up her pencil skirt to how perky her breasts are hugged tight in a constrictive as sin burgundy sweater. “He also mentioned how you were the one he scared away from the gallery a few days ago.”
She gives me a simple bob of her head, with no indication of whether she plans to come back to purchase the painting.
“Ro means well. He was just protecting me.”
The glint in her eyes at the mention of his protection of me almost glistens with her already gem-like emerald orbs.
“I know. I got quite mad, but at the end of the day, I was in the wrong,” she admits, but that doesn’t help, considering the piece is still for sale.
The topic is over, and she doesn’t offer up any more information. And looking around her kitchen, and having passed the living room and dining room, too, I realize there’s no furniture. “Are you staying here tonight without anything?”
She lets out a long, strangled breath, looking past me to her sister, who has an opposite reaction with an almost obnoxious laugh.
“Did I miss something?” I’m standing between them but move back in order to see both of them and get caught up on the inside joke I don’t understand.
Whitney begins, “Yeah, my sister’s an idealist. In her mind, she has this perfect plan of what the first night in our new house should look like.”
I twist around just in time to see Avery flip off her sister. “You’re a little shit, you know that, right, Whit?” The sweetest laughter leaves Avery’s lips, and no wonder Ro was a blundering idiot when he met her again today. She’s amazing, and I haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet.
“I’ve been a little shit since the day Mom placed me in your arms. But you love me anyway.”
It’s a warm and tender moment between these two, and I hate to speak, breaking it up so soon. “Well, I have a couple of chairs in my garage I can bring over. And a few air mattresses. You’ll have a place to sit, and you’ll be comfortable.” My eyes fall to the food on the counter. “Do you have something to cook with? Let me order you dinner. My way of making up for your almost heart attack.”
She holds her hand up, and I know she’ll fight me. “Yes, we’d love it.” It’s her little sister who answers me. “It was a wonderful idea, Ave. But you forgot the skillet and plates. Let’s have your nice dinner tomorrow when we have a table to sit at? Please, sis?”
Somehow, if I were to wager a guess, I’d say the little sister has her older sister wrapped around her pinky.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Whit.” Her attention is back on me. “And thank you. But it’s not necessary.” It’s my turn to wave her off because it’s very necessary. And when her eyes lock on mine, the attraction on my part is immediate. “And I hope I wasn’t too hard on your boyfriend. I was teasing him, attempting to make