Page 16 of Hensley Manor
Wanting to put him out of his misery as soon as possible, I cut into the dessert with a clean fork and brought it to my lips. He sat back down, serving himself a slice, but I got the feeling he was watching me from the corner of his eye.
He had no reason to worry. As the cheesecake touched my tongue, I groaned. Creamy, not overly sweet, and the gingerbread crust was perfect, not too hard or crumbly. The pumpkin flavor wasn’t overpowering like I had feared and tasted more like the pumpkin spice flavored cookies Lance had gotten me addicted to last year. Except Ian’s tasted homemade and not artificial.
“What’s the verdict?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Huh?” I glanced at him, as I shoved another bite into my mouth. My eyes closed a second as the flavor exploded on my tongue. “Can’t hear you right now. I’m in cheesecake heaven.”
Ian chuckled, and I forgot all about the dessert. His laugh was a little raspy, yet musical. The sound touched a place deep in my chest. And when our gazes met, that place warmed. It had only been a day, but I found myself crushing hard on the gorgeous innkeeper.
“Have I converted you to the pumpkin side?” A playful gleam shone in his blue eyes.
“Maybe. I need to eat more to be sure.”
And there it was again; the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. His laugh.
After dessert, I carried my dishes into the kitchen and dropped them in the sink. The staff cleaned up after the meals, but I had nothing else to do. Might as well help out. I rinsed off my plate and placed it in the dishwasher before doing the same to my bowl and silverware.
“You don’t have to do that.”
I tossed Ian a look over my shoulder. “I know. But I don’t mind.”
I focused on the cup in my hand, running it beneath the water, and I sensed Ian’s presence behind me. Felt him drawing closer. My stomach fluttered and my breathing quickened.
Definitely crushing.
“Dinner was great.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. I’ll be sure to tell the chef,” Ian said, now beside me. He helped load the dishwasher before starting it.
Now with nothing to occupy my hands or attention, I turned to him. “Do you… maybe… want to have a drink? With me?”
I wasn’t ready for the night to be over. Because what if itwasa dream? I’d wake up without ever knowing what Ian tasted like or how he felt against me, chest to chest.
He tilted his head. “Do you have a drinking problem, Mr. Wiley?”
My lips twitched. “Can you blame me for wanting to spend the night with a handsome man, having a glass of wine or two?”
Perhaps I was being too bold. I had been the master at flirting when I was younger, but it had been years since I’d found anyone I was this interested in, and I was a bit rusty on the execution.
He had made it known earlier he liked men, and it was my way of doing the same.
Ian dropped his gaze to the floor as a blush spread to his cheeks. “One glass couldn’t hurt.” Damn it all, his bashfulness was endearing as fuck. “Join me in the drawing room.”
“The what?”
Blue eyes flickered to mine, alight with humor. “It’s what the living room used to be called.”
“Oh. I was imagining a room full of blank canvases where we’d paint fruit in a basket or something.”
He smiled and motioned with his hand. “Follow me.”
I noted his slender fingers and delicate curve of his knuckles. I wanted to trace the curve with my tongue and kiss the blue veins on his pale inner wrist. Instead of doing that and probably creeping him out, I followed him out of the kitchen.
He grabbed an unopened bottle of red wine and two glasses before walking into the hall. We moved down a corridor, passing a few closed doors where some of the guests were staying, and eventually arrived at a pair of sliding wooden doors. He opened them to reveal a room with high ceilings, dark paneled walls, spacious seating, a fireplace, and a small table holding an antique chess set.
Like the rest of the manor, Christmas decorations were in the room: garland on the mantel, a tree in the corner twinkling with gold lights, and fake snowflakes hanging near the bay windows.
“You’re not fond of Christmas décor, are you?” Ian asked. He sat in the armchair near the crackling fire and twisted the cap on the wine before popping the cork.
