Page 39 of Under His Touch

“Granddad is spreading it all around town. I’m going to have a talk with him.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He’s just excited for you. I think...” I let my words fall off. I don’t want to say anything to upset him.

“You think what?” he asks, pushing the matter.

“I don’t think he’s very well, Alec. He was doing a lot of fading in and out when he hired me, like he was forgetting his words, and I think he just wants to see his grandkids happy and settled down before...” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. I’ve always loved Alec’s granddad. He was so good to me when we were younger, and the thought of losing someone else I care about cuts me deeply.

“Yeah, I guess.” Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not so sure his mind is going, though.”

“Really, why?”

“He had enough wits about him to convince me to get married, and drag you into it all.”

“He didn’t drag me. I went into this willingly.”

“Even though you knew it was me.”

“Yes.”

“Even after...” He looks down, like his thoughts are now a million miles away. Or more like eight hours away by plane. The amount of time it takes to go from New York to St. Moritz.

The waiter comes, interrupting the moment, and asks if I’d like a refill on wine. I decline, and set my fork down, finished with dinner and wanting to leave, just to go somewhere we can be alone.

“Ready to go?” Alec asks.

“Yes. You?”

He gestures to the waiter to bring the bill, and after he pays, we make our way out into the dark night. I breathe in the fresh spring scents before climbing into the Tesla. Alec circles the car, his strong, confident movements drawing my attention, and a few minutes later, he pulls into traffic, but instead of taking me back to my place he goes in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” I say.

He laughs. “Like hell you don’t. You screamed your head off when I got you those Rolling Stones concert tickets for your birthday.”

“Well, okay maybe I do,” I say. “As long as it’s a good surprise.”

His hand slides across the car and sits heavy on my thigh as he gives it a squeeze. His warmth seeps through me, and my insides quiver with all the crazy things I feel for this man. All the emotions that have r

esurfaced in his presence. Suddenly I’m not so sure any of this was worth it. Not if it means I spend another eight years mending a broken heart.

I stare out the window, take in the pedestrians and shops as he drives, and soon enough we’re at Central Park. “Are we here to feed the duck again?” I ask.

“Nope.” He parks and comes around to my side of the car. I climb out, and he hits the fob to lock the doors. “Let’s go,” he says, taking my hands in his. A breeze blows over us as I follow him through the lit park and he stops at the hansom cab.

“A carriage ride? Are you serious?” I ask.

“You said you’ve never been in one but would like to.” He grins. “How many points does this get me?”

“A lot,” I say, a little touched and surprised that he remembered. He boosts me up until I’m situated on the seat. He talks to the driver for a second, and then climbs in beside me. I snuggle close, and he wraps his arm around me.

The buggy starts, and I glance around to admire the sights and the people. “This is so nice,” I say.

“Yeah, it is.”

His mood is mellow, but there is heat in his eyes as he gazes at me. His hand brushes my hair from my face. “I want to be inside you,” he whispers.

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