things like muscles—good conversation and a sense of humor are my weaknesses—but so far, there’s nothing “usual” about the way this man affects me.
“Besides, they wouldn’t want our coffee to get cold,” Andrew adds. “Nothing worse than cold coffee. Except for cold eggs, maybe.” We’re so close that when he shudders in disgust, I do, too, making him laugh as he glances my way. “Glad we agree on cold eggs.”
“Complete agreement, but I can walk.” I bring a hand to his shoulder, applying pressure until he relaxes his hold on my waist and my feet touch the ground again. I tug my skirt down and stuff my shirt in, but the fussing does nothing to stop the zing and prickle of excitement across my skin. “I feel like a sausage,” I mutter.
“You want sausage?” Andrew asks, his brows lifting. “I ordered bacon, but I can call my assistant and have sausage delivered to the garden.”
“Oh no, it’s fine,” I say, waving a hand.
“Really, it’s no trouble at all.” He reaches into the back pocket of his pants for his cell. “I want you to enjoy your first meal.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say. My breath rushes out as I confess, “I’m just not used to dressing up. This skirt is so tight it makes me feel like a sausage. That’s what I said.”
His gaze skims up and down my frame, a lightning-quick, detached assessment that still makes my cheeks uncomfortably warm. “Well, you don’t look like a sausage. You look…very beautiful.” He clears his throat, a little nervously, I think, which only increases his charm. “But you’d look just as lovely in comfortable clothes. We should both change after breakfast and put on something we can go walking in, then I’ll give you a tour of the grounds.”
“I’d like that, thank you,” I say with a smile. “And thank you for the message on the parachute. That was sweet.” I incline my head. “I mean, in the future, I’d rather you avoid unnecessary risks to your life, but the spirit of the gesture was appreciated. And charming.”
His eyes meet mine, something flickering in his unguarded gaze that I can’t quite read. “You’re not stuttering,” he murmurs.
I pull in a breath and let it out with a shake of my head. Lizzy gave me clearance to ditch the stutter with Andrew if I had to, understanding how hard it would be to fake that with someone I’ll be spending so much time with one on one. I didn’t expect to feel the need this soon, but I didn’t expect to be the focus of Andrew’s unrelenting attention right off the bat, either.
“No, I’m not,” I say. “This isn’t as scary as I thought it would be.”
“No, it isn’t,” he says, a wrinkle appearing between his finely shaped brows. Even his eyebrows are beautiful, worthy of being captured on one of my father’s canvases.
God, get a grip, Sabrina.
Dragging my attention away from his loveliness, I force a tight smile. “Well, that’s a good thing. Isn’t it?”
He nods, but the brow wrinkle and the odd look in his eyes remains. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he flashes another megawatt grin, and says, “It’s a wonderful thing. Almost as wonderful as warm eggs, which ours won’t be if we don’t hurry.”
The vulnerable moment past, Andrew rests his hand on the small of my back, urging me into motion again. Maybe he’s genuinely starving—jumping out of helicopters must work up an appetite—or maybe he’s just fussy about his eggs.
Either way, it’s best that he cut our conversation short.
Lizzy would never ask a stranger what’s wrong. She doesn’t pry into other people’s personal business unless she knows she’s welcome. Even then, there are days when I have to hurl myself at her feet and moan like a dying walrus to get her to notice that I need girl talk. Most of the time, we’re as in sync as any twins, but if Lizzy’s deep into a design project or dealing with her own issues, she retreats into an inner sanctum even I can’t reach.
It’s best if Andrew doesn’t get used to “Lizzy” being too attentive to his emotions, or he might think something’s wrong after the wedding.
I have to work harder at channeling my sister and ignore the Sabrina urge to lean in and get to know the person I’m spending time with. I’ll have a chance to get to know Andrew later. He’ll be my brother-in-law, after all, and lots of people end up