Page 56 of Love Me Sweet

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

By the time Sylvie and Andrew got home, it was nearly ten. Neither of them was ready for bed. Instead of having more wine, Sylvie decided to make some tea.

Andrew followed her into the kitchen then leaned his back against the countertop and watched her. “Seriously? You didn’t even discuss a book?”

“That’s right.” Though he remained fully dressed, Sylvie stood in bare feet while she brewed Chamomile tea. Her lips curved up. “Mary Karen Fisher started talking about going skinny dipping, then everyone else started telling tales. Moby Dick was forgotten.”

“Moby Dick?” He straightened. “That’s the book you discussed?”

“That was the book we weresupposedto discuss. I don’t think we could have had a good discussion because it didn’t appear anyone in attendance had read it.” Sylvie lifted the two mugs and carried them to the small dinette table.

Andrew pulled out her chair, then took a seat opposite her. “You had fun.”

“I did.” She took a sip of tea. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

The men had watched a replay of that week’s Monday night football game. Cole had made sure to introduce him to Joel Dennes and Gabe Davis, who spoke with him about available lots in Jackson Hole.

Andrew still wondered why he hadn’t just simply said he wasn’t interested. Instead, he’d told them that while he wasn’t interested in a mountain lot because of the distance into Jackson, he’d be willing to consider something in Spring Gulch.

The crazy thing was, he hadn’t been thinking of himself when he’d made that decision, he’d been thinking of Sylvie. The last thing he’d want was for her to be driving down those steep mountain roads at three am.

He pulled his brows together. What had he been thinking? Even if he wanted to stay, he couldn’t. He owed it to his family, to Tommy’s memory, to take this position at O’Shea Sports.

The thought made him irritable.

“Something on your mind?” Her soft voice broke through his thoughts.

He jerked his head up. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

She smiled slightly. “I didn’t ask if something is wrong, I asked if something was on your mind.”

Her eyes were watchful as they studied him over the top of her mug.

“What made you leave?” The question burst from his lips with none of the finesse he’d envisioned.

“I told you—”

“I know what you said,” he interrupted, not giving her a chance to continue. “But why that particular night? Why not before the party? Or several days later?”

“I—” She turned toward the window. “Look, it’s starting to rain.”

Andrew glanced at the window, noticing for the first time the water on the glass, hearing the sound on the roof. It distracted him, but only for a second.

“Why, Sylvie?” His voice was soft and low now, the same tone he often used to soothe frightened patients. “Was is something I said? Or did?”

She lowered her lids but not soon enough to shield her reaction. It had been something he’d said. But what could it have been? He searched his memories but came up empty.

“I can see in your eyes I was to blame.”

“You weren’t to blame.” Her sudden vehemence had him pulling back, but her hand remained in his. “Don’t ever think you were to blame.”

“Tell me.” He kept his voice soft, inviting confidences. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the ‘please’ that did it or perhaps it was simply that the time had finally come for this truth to be revealed, but Sylvie expelled a shuddering breath.

When she attempted to pull her hand back, he kept hold, gently stroking her palm with his thumb.

“I’m not angry.” Andrew’s gaze remained focused on her face. “I simply want to understand.”

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