I whip my head up, a rush of adrenaline filling me when I see a man stride purposefully into the house, a beautiful little girl with golden curls in his arms. I blink, convinced I must be imagining this. But there’s no mistaking the buzz of electricity filling me.
The same buzz that coursed through me a week ago.
The same buzz that grows even more intense when I peer into Weston’s blue eyes once more.
Chapter Five
Weston
Mouth agape, eyes wide, I stare at Londyn, dumbfounded. How did this happen?
When Julia told me she thought she found a good fit for a designer, never once did I expect it would be Londyn. I want to pinch myself, make sure this is actually happening and not the result of my subconscious playing a trick on me.
“Glad you made it back,” Julia says, yanking me back to the present. “Wes, this is—”
“Londyn…” I lower Imogene to her feet and extend my hand toward her.
With slow motions, she allows me to take her hand in mine, inhaling a barely noticeable breath when our skin touches. My pulse steadily increases, a pulling sensation settling low in my stomach.
Over the past week, I’d convinced myself I imagined the magnetism I experienced when we met. Convinced myself it was simply from the adrenaline rush of putting my own life at risk to save hers.
But now that I’m here, that she’s here, I realize that’s not the case. This pull toward her is real, palpable…powerful.
“Yes…” Julia’s analytical gaze ping-pongs between us. “Londyn, this is my brother, Wes.”
Londyn briefly closes her eyes, her shoulders seeming to relax. “He’s your brother,” she states more for herself than anyone else.
“Yes. My brother.” Julia scrunches her brow. “Why?”
“No reason.” Londyn pulls her hand from mine. “I thought maybe he was your husband or something.”
“Definitely not.” Julia grimaces. “No offense, Wes.”
“None taken.” I chuckle, then face Londyn, gesturing to the little blonde at my side. “And this is Julia’s daughter, Imogene.”
Londyn crouches down to be eye level with my niece, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. “Hi, Imogene. That’s such a pretty name.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” she says with all the manners my sister has ingrained into her. “Mama says I’m named after Meemaw. She used to live here, but I never got to meet her. She went up to heaven before I was born.”
She offers Imogene a sincere look. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I promise to help your mama and uncle bring this house back to life so you’ll have a piece of your meemaw. Okay?”
Imogene nods. “Okay.” She cranes her head up toward Julia. “Can I go play outside with Zeus?”
“Of course, lovebug. Just be careful and stay out of the brush. There’s no telling what kind of critters are out there.”
“I will,” Imogene promises, already running down the long hallway toward the back porch, Zeus following loyally behind her, barking.
“She’s a beautiful little girl,” Londyn offers as she stands.
“She is. But she’s certainly a handful.” Julia rolls her eyes in feigned annoyance, but no one can ignore the love and absolute wonder in her gaze as she looks out the open back door at Imogene and Zeus chasing each other, her giggles making their way into the house.
I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling awkward in Londyn’s presence. I’m generally calm and confident around women. But with her, I seem to forget how to speak, my mind only able to focus on her addictive scent and glossy, heart-shaped lips.
“So…,” Julia begins, her voice snapping me out of my trance yet again.
“Do you have any design experience?” I ask quickly, praying Julia didn’t pick up on the fact I’d just been staring at Londyn’s lips. Hoping Londyn didn’t, either. “I know you refurbish old furniture, but there’s a big difference between fixing up furniture and fixing up an entire house.”
“I have a bachelor’s in art history, where I specialized in architectural preservation, as well as a master’s in interior design from the Atlanta School of Design.”
“You didn’t know she was a designer?” Julia counters. “Why else would you leave her card for me?”
“To be honest, I didn’t. Her card was…” I scrape my fingers through my hair, chewing on my lower lip. “Well, for me.”
“Is that right?” Julia smirks, giving me a look reminiscent of one she gave me in our teenage years whenever I came home smelling of perfume.
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes, silently telling her not to press the subject.