Page 18 of Hensley Manor
Ian regarded me with an intriguing tilt of his brow. “It saddens me to hear you have such a poor view of the world.”
“Well, if you’d lived the kind of life I had, you might have the same shitty outlook.”
Instead, Ian had grown up in this beautiful house, not ever having to want for anything. He hadn’t spoken much of his family, but I suspected they’d doted on him and gave him a wonderful childhood. The kindness in his eyes made me wonder if he’d ever dealt with tragedy. If he’d ever had his heart ripped out and replaced with an empty vessel.
“I like to think that no matter how dark things might seem, I’d never lose my sense of hope,” Ian responded, his forehead creasing with a frown. “I helped you today because that’s who I am. I enjoy making people smile. I lend a hand to anyone who needs one. And if my actions make a difference in someone’s life, no matter how small, I find comfort in that. Hold onto it when my own life comes crumbling down.”
I wondered if he was referring to his ex-fiancé.
After I lost three games in a row, we agreed to call it a night. We had talked between the moves, so even though only three games were played, hours had passed. I hadn’t even noticed, as I’d been having too great of a time. Leaving the study, I headed for the stairs and a jolt of excitement went through me when I noticed Ian walking with me. Maybe his room was upstairs.
Or maybe he intended to join me in mine?
God, I hoped so.
He walked me to my room and hesitated in front of the door.
“Thanks for your company tonight,” he said, keeping his voice low since it was late and guests were asleep behind the doors down the hall.
“You’re just saying that because you kicked my ass at chess.”
“I’m offended you would think so poorly of me.” But there was no hiding the smile that curved his lips. His eyes locked on to mine, and he stepped closer. He didn’t touch me, but god I wanted him to. “Goodnight, Cole.”
All it would take was one simple movement forward, and our lips would touch. I wasn’t brave enough to take that step, though, even with the wine coursing through my veins.
What if I hadn’t read him correctly and he wasn’t into me? What if I made a fool of myself and ruined our friendship just as it was beginning?
“Goodnight, Ian.”
A pause. A second where his gaze burned into mine, and I couldn’t look away. Not that I wanted to.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered, starting to lift his hand. But then it dropped back at his side, and his brow creased.
Had he been about to touch my face?
He then turned and walked down the dimly lit hall, and I watched until I couldn’t see him anymore. The manor creaked as old homes did, and being alone made it unsettling. I went inside my room and closed the door, flipping on the light. After changing into my sweatpants and tugging off my shirt, I turned off the light and slid into bed, finding the cool sheets welcoming. They’d be even more welcoming if someone was under them with me.
Someone like Ian.
Moonlight streamed through the window, lighting the room in a silver glow. The stars were bright, too, and as I stared at them from my spot on the bed, my eyelids grew heavy. Then, they fell shut. I wasn’t drunk, but the wine had relaxed me enough to where I was a little drowsy. Before I drifted to sleep, I thought of Ian. His face, his hands, and his laugh. But mainly I thought of how he made me feel; warm and comforted.
As if I’d found my way home.
Chapter Five
I almost didn’t want to open my eyes the next morning.
Everything would go back to normal if Hensley Manor had been a dream. I would wake up, start coffee, shower, and cook breakfast. The same routine I did nearly every morning. There would be no fancy manor in the middle of an evergreen forest. No random people walking around.
No Ian.
Yesterday, I had wanted to go home.
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Slowly, I cracked open one eyelid before opening the other. The red curtains on the window that had confused me yesterday morning now made me smile, because they were proof I was still at the manor. It wasn’t a dream after all.
Sitting up, I scratched the back of my head, ruffling my brown locks, before getting out of bed. The hardwood floor was cool beneath my bare feet, and I pulled a pair of socks from the drawer and put them on. The clock on the mantel showed it wasn’t even eight yet. It was a record for me to be awake that early on my day off.
