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She stood in the open space of the living room, and stared out the wall of windows. Her gasp for breath had him tensing.
“My God,” she said reverently. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’d never want to go anywhere else.”
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. That soft gasp of wonder had awakened things inside him that had been dormant too long. She turned to face him and he forgot to breathe altogether. She radiated light, and the beauty of her would be etched in his brain for eternity. He didn’t need her to sit for him. He’d be able to draw her from memory.
“I’ve got tea,” he said abruptly.
“Oh,” she said, clearly surprised by the offer. “I’d love some. I got some coffee at the restaurant, but I was gripping the steering wheel too hard to drink it.”
She was lucky to be alive. He scowled at the thought of her driving through such treacherous conditions and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. And then he went into his room and grabbed a towel and dug an old pair of sweats out of the closet.
“Well, hello there,” he heard her say from the other room.
Winston had come out to see what had disturbed his nap, and he gave Duncan a questioning look before turning his attention back to their guest.
“Aren’t you a sophisticated old man,” she said, reaching down so he could sniff her hand. He gave her his paw to shake. “And quite charming. You look a bit like my grandfather. All you need is a bowler hat and a cigar.”
“His name is Winston,” Duncan said, narrowing his eyes at the dog. He was never that friendly to strangers. “Because he looks like Winston Churchill.”
She scratched behind his ears. “It’s a very appropriate name. Does he always look this disgruntled?”
“Always,” Duncan said.
“I want to apologize for showing up the way I did,” she said. “I’m sure it was a great shock, especially if you’re not used to having visitors. I can understand why you’d be cautious. Atticus will do anything to protect his family.”
She moved away from Winston to look at the sleekly framed pictures of his family that covered the wall next to the fireplace.
“Yeah,” Duncan said. “But he’s not much on giving information. It would have been nice to know I should’ve been on the lookout for a lost tenant.”
He handed her the stack of clothes.
“Thank you,” she said, making her way toward the guest room where he’d pointed. “I’m Hattie, by the way.”
“Interesting,” he said without looking at her. “You don’t look like a Hattie.”
“Harriet,” she said. “Harriet Jones. But I prefer Hattie.”
The way she said the name spoke of unfamiliarity, and it made him frown. He definitely needed to have a talk with Atticus.
There was only silence as the door clicked shut behind her. She had secrets. And he found it curious he wanted to start peeling back the layers.
ChapterFive
You don’t looklike a Hattie.
Panic had gripped her the second the words were out of his mouth, but it was just a reaction. She wasn’t used to the name. And he was a stranger. Who was he to say what name she looked like? If she was going to live in Laurel Valley, she had to get used to hearing it. And she had to do better saying it.
The guest bedroom was large, with more windows and a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. On one wall was a large painting in vibrant colors that had her staring transfixed. She’d seen the artist’s work in a gallery in Manhattan, and Derek had paid a lot of money for an original piece for his office. The famous DWO. He only went by his initials and he never went to his showings. She’d been fascinated by the thought of a man who lived with such complete anonymity.
She moved from the bedroom to the bathroom, but there were floor-to-ceiling windows in there as well.
“So much for privacy,” she said.
She dried off quickly and stripped out of her wet clothes. She’d had the presence of mind to kick off her muddy tennis shoes before she’d walked onto his porch. They were ruined anyway.
The large shower caught her eye, and she bit her lip in indecision. She’d already overstayed her welcome. He clearly wasn’t used to company, and by the look on his face it seemed as though she’d ruined his entire day. But when it had come down to it, he’d been kind and given her refuge.
She looked down at her muddy feet and ankles and decided she was really doing him a favor by taking a shower. That way she didn’t track dirt into his home. Or more than she already had. And what a home it was. If the house she’d leased had half the view this one did she’d be tempted to stay forever.
