Page 44 of A Sudden Romance

“Go ahead, darling.” Mom tossed her napkin aside.

Dad pushed back his chair. “Do you want me to drive you there?”

“I’ll be fine.” She’d walk to burn off some steam first. Iris carried her plate to the kitchen and covered Saran wrap over it before putting it in the fridge. She’d eat it tomorrow.

She was still in her caramel high-waisted jeans and black shoulder jumper. Since it’d been a warm day, she wouldn’t need a jacket for her hike. In the hallway, she stepped into her fur-lined slip-on ankle boots. Then she followed the hallway to the enclosed awning. Instead of going to one of the eight garages for a car, she scanned her fingers on the camera by the east side door.

They had an entire security team, but only one guard stayed at The Peak while the remote team monitored the ins and outs on their property.

The security lights from the detached garages lit the entire courtyard as she followed a path through the shrubs, walking past her workshop to the road toward Sabastian’s house. She’d been there a handful of times with her siblings since he’d moved from the main house. Having designed his house, she was familiar with the layout.

A cool breeze whipped at her face, and she sped up, pushing one foot in front of the other. As the crisp air seeped into her lungs, something reignited in her. Vast emotions—anger, denial, and excitement all at once. It was Sabastian’s fault that she was hiking instead of having dinner with her family.

Lampposts lining the paved road highlighted the tire marks over the layer of snow the plow couldn’t scrape. Then the road curved past their sports complex, and the walk across the expansive area felt longer than she remembered.

She hugged her arms against the chill leaching into her chest and shivered. Maybe she shouldn’t have come.

This was ridiculous. She jerked up her chin. Before tonight ended, all this had to end as well. She needed to know if he felt the same way about her.

She quickened her pace, the brisk exercise warming her, and her arms lowered to swing at her sides. She didn’t need a coat anymore.

Breathless, she sprinted up the stone steps to the ranch-style limestone bungalow she’d designed when Eric requested she redesign the main house. He’d wanted all their family to stay together when they came home, instead of being in a hotel and barely spending time together.

After taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. The lights on the two-car garage and the front porch illuminated the nearby surroundings. Something rustled in the woods. The shadowed movement had her pressing the doorbell again.

She’d left the house at six ten, and although darkness had already descended because of the short winter days, she doubted fierce animals wandered onto the property, especially this early in the night.

But hadn’t Nate spotted a mountain lion three years ago when he’d come home late? Even so, the cougars rarely came this far unless they were on a mission. As long as their mission wasn’t her, she could live with that.

She rubbed her hands up and down on her arms. What was taking Sabastian so long? Had he seen her through the peephole and decided to ignore her?

Her heart sank. Still, she lifted her hand to press the doorbell again, but the door swung open. Her breathing altered, and her heart raced.

His damp hair shone under the hallway light. The subtle scent of soap wafted off him, a clean and refreshing smell. Barefooted, in dark shorts and a black T-shirt with a hole on the sleeve, he looked rugged and handsome.

“I...” He blinked a couple of times. “Are you... uh?”

As the poor guy tripped over his words, her anger subsided. But she didn’t dare assume he was affected by her presence because, with his poor communication skills, everything was a guess.

Cold air seeped through her sweater—or maybe the chill came from inside, from those places still filled with doubts. She shivered and hugged her arms around herself again. “Can I come in?”

He swallowed, opened his mouth, then closed it, and swung the door wide.

She stepped into the front hall, and her posture relaxed into the warmth of the open floor plan she’d designed with the kitchen as its artery. The rooms, composed of granite tile floors, glass accents, and stainless steel appliances and shelving, were supposed to feel like an extension of the kitchen, the whole space a chef’s haven. Instead, something strangely impersonal hollowed out the space.

Usually, when she returned to a place she’d designed, the occupants had invaded it, claimed it, and made it more their own than hers. This, so clean and decluttered, seemed preserved as if still on her drafting table. No personalized touches, other than the globe she’d given him now on the glass-topped coffee table next to his well-read Bible. Every bit as she’d left it, waiting to be lived in—waiting. For what, though? Her?

Could that be? Had he preserved it in honor of her?

Her palms sweat, and her heart thudded. Then the door closed behind her, and she slid off her boots, leaving them on the thick welcome mat before striding into the living room, her socks padding across heated floors.

He cleared his throat as she stopped before a guitar propped beside the fireplace. The instrument reminded her how little she knew him. Had she seen a guitar when she’d last been here? Was that two years ago? How had she failed to notice then the emptiness, the life-on-hold feel of this place?

Did he play the guitar?

Something else caught her attention on the floating shelf below the TV—a glossy book. Pride and Prejudice?

“Would you like to sit?”

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