Page 39 of The Husband Contract
“I’m just curious,” he says. “You were working at the Magnolia Club; now you’re working here. Is it because you’re hoping to meet…” He pauses. “Men? Or women? Or whoever can help you?”
“Help me?” I frown. “I don’t know that anyone helps me. But yeah, I guess it’s really cool to own your own business. Especially a bed and breakfast like this.” Now, I’m not technically telling him the truth, but I’m not lying either. I’m not saying I own the hotel, and I’m not saying I don’t. I just hope he doesn’t read between the lines.
“You must feel empowered working here and owningit,” he says. “It’s really cool to own your own business, especially as a single woman.”
“Why especially?” I’m affronted. “Would you say that to a single man?”
“Touché. No, I wouldn’t.” He dips his head. “My apologies.”
“Accepted. I will say that the Whispering Haven Bed and Breakfastisgorgeous and amazing,” I say, nodding. “Guests really enjoy staying here, and it makes me proud to be a part of that experience.”
“So were your parents rich or…?” His voice trails off.
“I think it’s cool if you have rich parents, but some of us weren’t so lucky,” I say, trying not to think of my mom and dad. “Some of us are self-made women. We do what we have to do to make money and support ourselves.”
He grimaces, and I wonder if I’ve touched a nerve. I googled him and know he comes from money. Maybe he thinks I’m judging him. Maybe he thinks I don’t think he’s done much himself.
Now I regret my words. I wish I could take them back.
“I think that’s a really good way to look at it,” he says finally, smiling. “Being a self-made woman must feel good to you.”
“I suppose so,” I say, already wishing I could take back my words.
“I want to tell you that I’m so impressed by you, Willow. You’re a hard worker.”
“Oh, thanks. But you don’t have to say that?—”
“I want to say that I admire that quality in you. I also think you’re quite pretty.”
“You already said that.”
“I know. Maybe I was hoping for you to offer a compliment back.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Imean, you don’t have to. Not if you don’t have any you wish to proffer.”
“Are you wanting me to tell you that you’re handsome?” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Now, Sebastian, I don’t know you very well, but I know there must be countless women who tell you how good-looking you are.” I giggle slightly because it’s true. He’s gorgeous. His hair is dark and silky, his features sharp and perfect. He’s rich. “I bet if we lined up ten women, at least nine of them would want to date you.”
“Only nine?” He frowns. “Why not all ten?”
“Do you want all ten?”
“No,” he says softly. “I think I only want one.”
My mouth goes dry at his words. The way he’s looking at me is making me shiver: it’s so intense, so sultry. It’s almost like he’s saying I’m the one. Which he can’t be. There’s just no way. This man doesn’t even know me.
“So, what are you doing later today?” he asks.
“Working,” I nod slowly. “That’s what I do most days.”
“Yeah,” he says, “but what do you do when you want to have fun?”
I stare at him for a couple of seconds. I can’t tell him that drinking wine and gossiping with my best friends is my idea of fun. So I try to think of something—anything—to make myself sound like a better, more well-rounded person.
“Oh, I like hiking,” I lie, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind.
“Have you been hiking anywhere cool?”
“Not really. You?”
“A couple of mountains.” He grins. “Kilimanjaro.”
