Page 65 of Where We Bloom

Her smile falls, and she swallows hard, watching me. She wanted morally gray? She found it.

“Not worth it.”

Leaning in, I motion for her to meet me halfway over the table. When my mouth is next to her ear, I whisper, “No one touches you in anger and lives to tell about it, angel. You’ll give me a fucking name.”

She turns her face and kisses my cheek, brushing hernose against me. “Thank you, but in this case, it really is unnecessary. He’s already dead. Hiking incident two years ago.”

Billie sits back and cringes. “Sorry you asked?”

“Yes, but not for the reason you think. I hate that you went through any of that.”

“And I hate that you were once married to literallyanyone, even if sheisa nice, pretty girl from an appropriate family who ended up happily married to your best friend. So I guess we’re even.”

We stare at each other across the table, and I marvelagainat how incredibly strong this woman is. One would think a younger sister of four brothers would be weak or entitled. Spoiled, even. But Billie is intelligent and thoughtful, so I’m not surprised that I feel that same connection with her from the first night we met.

The only thing that’s different is her eyes.She’s so … fatigued.And it’s only just past eight o’clock.

“Why do you look so tired, angel?”

She blinks at the sudden change in subject. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I’m taking you home with me.”

It’s not a question.

“Ready when you are.”

Chapter Eleven

BILLIE

Miller turns onto the driveway leading to Connor’s house. When we go around the bend and the sprawling mansion comes into view, my jaw drops.

I didn’t even know this house existed out here. It’s what I would call rustic but still fancy. If you took a cute little rustic cabin, the kind you might find in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and fed it steroids for about ten years, this is what you’d get.

I bet it’sstunningall dressed up for the holidays.

“Wow,” I mutter, taking it all in as Miller stops in front of the house in the circular driveway.

“You’ve been here before,” Connor reminds me.

“But I didn’t see it,” I reply and turn to him. “I was too busy trying not to die to check out your cozy mountain getaway.”

He smirks, but his eyes are hard as he reaches out to drag his fingerdown my cheek.

“Let’s make happier memories here, bumble.”

Connor pushes out of the SUV, and rather than walk around to open my door, he simply reaches in, pulls me across the seat, and helps me to my feet.

“Thanks, Miller,” he says as he takes my hand and leads me toward the door.

I glance back over my shoulder and give Miller a grin and a wave, and then we’re inside, and I can’t help but say, “Wow,” again.

“These windows,” I murmur, walking through the great room to stand at a wall of windows with a killer view of the mountains. The ceiling in here has to be thirty feet tall, and the furniture is soft brown leather with area rugs in burnt orange and brown. “I hope you put a ridiculously huge Christmas tree right here.”

I plant my feet in the center of the windows and look up, raising my arms over my head as ifI’mthe tree.

“And tons of garland along that railing.” I point up to the second floor, where a catwalk must connect the house’s two wings. God, those wrought-iron railings are gorgeous.

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