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“No coincidences. Your relationship with Atticus is what brought you here, along with whoever you’re hiding from.”
She started to shake her head but he stopped her.
“No, don’t deny it,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I hope you will trust me enough at some point, but not now.”
“Duncan—”
“No coincidences,” he said. “Once I came to this conclusion I debated on whether or not to tell you upfront or let it play out the natural way. But you strike me as a woman who needs the truth. You strike me as a woman who’s been deceived by the people in your life and you don’t trust yourself any longer. So I decided the truth is the only way to go. There’s a reason it was my house you found and that you fell into my arms.”
“So what are you saying?” she asked, her throat going dry.
“I’m saying I’m not crazy,” he said. “And I can’t say I’m entirely happy about this because my painting has always been front and center of my life. I can be selfish at times and I like to do what I want when I want to do it. But then you came along.
Hattie had no idea what was happening. Duncan didn’t look crazy. In fact, he looked bewildered and a little bit aggravated. It reminded her of how rude he’d been when she’d fallen through his front door, and she couldn’t help but smile a little.
Duncan was right. Derek had deceived her from the first moment they’d met. She’d thought he was handsome and charming and that he loved her. But it had all been a lie. But Duncan…Duncan was a passionate man. You couldn’t look at his art and not see that. He lived life fully and embraced all aspects of it. She’d only spent a short amount of time in his company, but she knew that much about him. He loved his family and was fiercely loyal to them. There were emotions and hidden depths inside him that he only allowed to be seen through his art. But that passion and emotion was part of him. She would always know what Duncan was feeling.
The irritation didn’t leave his face, but he seemed resigned and said, “I come from a long line of O’Haras who know when they’ve met the woman they’re supposed to spend the rest of their life with. And whether you can admit it yet or not, you feel it too.”
“Umm, Duncan,” Hattie said. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’re just overtired from work.”
“I know what I know,” he said. “And however you got here, by whatever means, you came here because you were supposed to meet me. Because you’re supposed to be my wife.”
ChapterTen
Three weeks passedand he didn’t see Hattie.
After he’d dropped his bombshell, he thought he might have to revive her when the color drained out of her face, but she’d recovered quickly enough, paid her portion of the check, and told him thank you for the lunch. He hadn’t seen her since, though not for lack of trying.
He could see how a declaration like that might be alarming, but it was like his mom had said, when you know you know. And if you know, you might as well start the process of fitting the missing pieces together. He’d only told her what was in his heart. He didn’t say they had to get married tomorrow. Or next year for that matter. There was still the question of whether or not she’d like Laurel Valley a year down the road.
He wasn’t a patient man. And his parents had told him patience was necessary when it came to love. But for this—for Hattie—he could be patient. He would get to know her, let her get to know him and his family. They had all the time in the world. She just needed some time to get used to the idea. And to trust him.
The days were getting colder, and the nights even more so, and they’d start seeing the first flurries of snow sometime in the next week. His work was coming in fits and starts, and he’d spent a lot of time outdoors, hiking and biking, to clear his head. He’d delayed going to see her. All he had to do was drive a few minutes down the road with his sketchbook, knock on her door, and get her to sit still a few minutes so he could get them back on track.
As much as he liked to live as a self-proclaimed hermit, he’d missed talking to her. She was sharp and sarcastic, and he’d known the second she started talking about his painting that she understood him in a way no one else ever had. She just didn’t realize it yet.
He might not have seen Hattie over the past three weeks, but the O’Hara network had been in full force. It wouldn’t have been a surprise at all if carrier pigeons had started seeking him out on his hikes to deliver messages from his family about what Hattie had been up to lately.
His family had made it a point to drop by her house and lend a hand with moving furniture, painting, and whatever else she wanted done to the place. They’d introduced her to people, and she’d started work at the sporting goods store.
Laurel Valley Sports and Outdoors had its grand opening the past Saturday. He’d gone by as a show of support, but the place had been packed, and every employee had been up to their eyeballs in customers. But according to the network, Hattie was off Sunday and Monday of every week, and he’d given her enough time to get her thoughts together.
He packed up his sketchbook, pencils, and charcoals, and loaded everything into the Hummer.
“Come on, Winston,” Duncan said. “It’s time for you to be more sociable. You don’t just ignore an invitation when someone invites you over.”
The fact that Winston had received the invitation instead of him only smarted a little.
Winston considered his options for a few moments and then followed Duncan to the garage, where he suffered the humiliation of being lifted into the car since he couldn’t jump in himself.
“I know, buddy,” Duncan said. “The things we’ll do for a woman.”
Winston didn’t have much to offer to the conversation, so Duncan rolled down the window so Winston could stick his head out. Hattie’s little car was pulled under the carport when he arrived, and he parked right behind it.
“Come on, Winston. Time to use your company manners.”
He lifted Winston out and unloaded his stuff, and when he turned around she was standing at the kitchen door, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
