Page 17 of Hensley Manor
“That obvious, huh?” I sat in the chair beside his, sinking into the cushions. It was much comfier than I expected and reminded me of the one Lance had bought for his dad.
“A little.” He handed me a glass before sitting back and sipping his. “Though, it makes me wonder if it’s the décor you hate or what that décor represents.”
“That’s a conversation for another day.” I took a sip, tasting a mixture of blackberries, strawberries, and something else. I’d have to remember the brand so I could buy it again in the future.
However, if this wasn’t a dream and things with Ian went horribly wrong, maybe I’d prefer to avoid the brand of wine altogether. No point in stirring up depressing memories. And the fact I assumed thingswouldend horribly said a lot about my low expectations.
“I understand.” Ian stared at the fire.
And I stared at Ian.
The golden light danced across his features, hitting his cheekbones and jawline perfectly. Not that he needed the extra help. He was handsome at every angle, in every type of light.
“There are many things I used to enjoy that I find harder to do nowadays,” Ian continued. “The past has a way of coming back around, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. It does.”
I wondered if his sudden gloomy mood was because of thehehe’d spoken of earlier. Had Ian had his heart broken? Had the guy died? It was none of my business, but I fought the urge to ask. It would also be shitty for me to ask about his pain when I refused to talk about my own.
So, we sat in silence. Drinking wine and staring at the fire, as if the flames held an answer we both sought.
“Do you know how to play chess?” Ian asked, after a while. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but enough to where we were both on our second glass.
“My grandpa taught me a long time ago. Not sure I remember much, though.”
“If you’d like to join me for a game, I can perhaps refresh your memory?”
Oh, damn. You can refresh my memory in multiple ways. Like what a dick feels like in my ass.
“Sure,” I said, trying to ignore the tightness in my crotch as I stood from the chair and followed him to the table with the chess set.
He brought the bottle of wine with him and topped off our glasses before setting it aside—now empty. The chess pieces were elaborate, each one a character instead of the usual designs. The knight was an actual knight on a horse, the queen and king wore decorative robes with jeweled crowns on their heads, and the rook was a medieval tower.
Ian explained the rules, pointing to each piece as he described what they could do and how they moved on the board. I kept getting distracted by the smooth quality of his voice and staring at his mouth instead of listening to what he was saying. Fortunately, a lot came back to me as we started the game.
It wasn’t how I’d hoped the night would go, but I was enjoying it nonetheless.
“You really don’t remember meeting me last night?” he asked, after moving a pawn forward.
“I know it sounds crazy, but no, I don’t.” I focused on the pieces, debating on which one to move. I wasn’t the best at strategy games. Having Ian in front of me didn’t help either, because I was way more interested in him than anything on that board. “I don’t remember making the reservation. I don’t even remember getting on the damn plane. I don’t see how a chunk of time could just be missing, you know?”
“It’s a mystery.”
“It’s impossible.”
“Yes. That, too.” He gave a small smile. “But it happened. Somehow.”
“You believe me?”
“I believe you don’t remember, yes. Not that I believe in magic or anything.”
“Says the man who boasted about his magical cheesecake.”
Ian grinned and lifted his near-empty glass in the air. “Touché.”
I moved my bishop to take one of his pawns, but it had been a trap. His knight took my bishop, and I sighed. That hadn’t been the first time I fell for the trick.
“Thank you again for all the help today,” I said, as we set up the board for a second game. He’d kicked my ass at the first. “Most people aren’t so caring, you know?”
