Author: Kristan Higgins

“I liked you better before,” he said. “Personally.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Back in a flash.”

“I think you look great!” the cousin called. “Oh, well. So much for all my hard work.”

Ten very long minutes later, she was back. Hair damp but in its usual clumps. Sturdy jeans, couple of layers of flannel and fleece, engineer boots. Much better. “All set,” she said, grabbing her backpack. She barely looked at him.

“Have fun, kiddies!” the cousin said.

“Sorry about that,” Cordelia said as they went outside. Her face was pink. “I had a delusional moment I could look like a…”

“Prostitute?” Liam suggested.

She shot him a glance, then smiled. “I don’t know. Living with Gretchen, I kind of lost perspective. Since she’s all flowy and shiny and stuff. She said I just had to get used to it, but I could barely see with all that gunk on my eyes.” She had something in her hand—candy, it looked like, wrapped in wax paper, and she took a bite. That mouth of hers was even more distracting, now that she was chewing.

“Well,” he said. “You have your own special thing.”

She looked up in surprise, dropping the candy on the driveway. In a flash, she picked it up, gave it a quick glance, and took another bite.

“Really?” Liam asked.

“Shush. My college roommate sent me this fudge. It’s from Z. Cioccolato. In San Francisco, okay? Best stuff ever.” She held it out. “Want a bite?”

“Pass.”

“Your loss.”

Now her lips had just a little chocolate on them. Liam found himself getting a little…aroused. More than a little, actually. “So, your cousin lives with you?” he asked, trying to focus on something else.

Cordelia groaned. “For the moment. She’s between mansions right now.”

He laughed. “She looks a lot like your mom, doesn’t she? More than you do.”

She gave him an odd look. “I’m adopted.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. My brother, too.”

“Well, that I did guess, since he’s what? Vietnamese?”

“Yep.”

“And what are you? Ethnicity-wise?”

“I don’t know. It was a closed adoption. So, where are we going?”

Hint taken. “Um…” Right. He should’ve thought of that. It’d been a while since he’d been on…well, it wasn’t really a date. Whatever. “Where do you want to go?”

She thought for a moment. “I have to check on something, and you might like to see it. Want to come?”

“Sure.”

“Let me get Shilo. He can come with us, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

She ran back into the church, opened the door and called her dog, who galumphed out, baying joyfully. “My truck?” Cordelia asked, as the pony-size dog whirled in circles next to her.

“We can take my car,” Liam said. He opened the back door for the dog, who leaped right in, then seemed to fall unconscious. He was too big for the backseat, so his head drooped to the floor, nose almost touching.

“I thought you might have your motorcycle today,” Cordelia said as she buckled up. “It’s so nice out.”

“I don’t ride it much anymore,” he said.

“Since the accident?”

He gave her a sharp look. “Who told you about that?”

She grinned. “You did, biker boy. When you were under the influence of pain meds.”

“Right. After you broke my rib.” He started the car and pulled out of her driveway.

“Cracked. And don’t worry, you swore me to silence. Take a left at the stop sign.”

“So tell me, Cordelia, have you always sucked at baseball?” Liam asked, and she punched his arm.

“I almost got a hit the other day,” she said. “It was very close.”

“Wow. So exciting.” He grinned as she smacked him again.

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Liam. Heard you had four hits against Oasis.”

“It’s true,” he acknowledged.

“Good. Glad you’re having fun. Go left here.” He obeyed. “Where’s your daughter today?”

His smile dropped. “With her grandparents.”

“And how are they? With her, I mean?”

And so Liam found himself telling Cordelia an edited version of the Tates’ demands, the endless stream of gifts and overindulgences. It was…nice, having someone to talk to. He’d made a few friends since moving—Allan the lawyer was a pretty good guy, but obviously it was a little weird with the whole Taylor-belt stuff. Rose, the bartender, had a killer Harley and brought it in for a tune-up and flirted without coming onto him, which was fun. The girls at the bakery were friendly.

But Cordelia…maybe it was his link to her parents, but she felt…safe. And she listened. It had been a long time since someone really listened like that.

“Up here on the right,” Cordelia said, pointing. “Just pull in and stop, okay?”

An endless rock wall bordered a sloping lawn. There was a house up there, though Liam could only catch glimpses of it through the trees, which had started to bud out in earnest. A giant Victorian, from the look of it. Shilo, who’d been sleeping, perked up, pushing his giant head between the front seats to see where they’d stopped. A huge set of arching, wrought-iron gates with the words The Meadows spelled out on top marked their destination. Cordelia hopped out of the car, opened a metal box, punched in a code, and got back in the car. The gates swung open, and Liam drove in. Stone driveway. Very nice.

“You know the owner?” he asked.

“I do. Vivian Appleton. She used to live here before she got too old.” Cordelia peered through the windshield at the house. “Man, look at those daffodils! They were hardly out last week!”

The house was massive and ornate, green with cream and blue trim. Dozens of windows, a huge set of double doors, curving front porch. And yes, hundreds, if not thousands, of bright yellow daffodils bordered the lawn, bobbing in the sun.

Cordelia leaped out of the car, opened the door for her dog, and ran up the granite steps that led to a stone terrace. “Come on,” she ordered. “We’ll go in this way. The front door sticks.” Her dog, clearly no stranger to the property, trotted off, snuffling the air with enthusiasm. Liam followed her up the stairs. “It’s empty, but it’s gorgeous anyway. The owner’s heirs are going to tear this place down, and I’m hoping to get the salvage rights.”

“Tear it down?” he asked. “Are you kidding?”

Cordelia turned. “I know. Come on, come on. You have to see the inside.” She typed in a code, then opened the door.

It was incredible. Everything about the house was ornate and…well, expensive, if in need of some care. The walnut staircase, the French doors, the leaded windows, plasterwork and ceiling medallions…it went on and on. Cordelia pointed out a few features, but she seemed almost as in awe of the place as he was, as if she were seeing it for the first time, too. The sun shone through a stained-glass window, pebbling the floor—and the dog, who’d come in with them—with color.

“Doesn’t the town want to save it as a museum or something?” Liam asked, gazing out at the expansive lawns.

“Believe me, I tried. But you know how it is around here. Can’t swing a cat without hitting some historical home where George Washington or Franklin Pierce had a snack. No money in the budget for one more.” She ran her hand along a marble mantelpiece. “Vivian was hoping one of her nieces or nephews would want to live here, but nobody does. A developer made them a huge offer for the land.” Cordelia sighed. “I get the impression Viv thinks that if she doesn’t leave them the estate, they’ll declare her incompetent, or just make her life miserable. Or just stop visiting.”

“What a shame.”

“I know.” She was silent for a minute, then brightened. “Want to see the caretaker’s house? A whole family used to live there, five kids, the caretaker and his wife, who was the cook.”

The cottage was a short walk farther back on the property and was shaded by an enormous spruce. Diamond-paned windows, a stone fireplace, a snug little kitchen. “Viv tried living here for a while,” Posey said, quite the tour guide, “but even that got to be too much once she had her stroke. Isn’t it cute? Imagine being the family who got to live here.”

It was so far from the types of places Liam had lived in as a kid that he couldn’t. A bedroom of his own, rather than a ratty couch that smelled like beer or an air mattress on the floor. A yard full of trees and flowers instead of old car parts. Parents who made meals instead bringing home fast food…when they brought home food, that was.

“It’s really nice,” he said.

“Come on, I’ll show you the grounds. They’re gorgeous. I hope they’ll keep some of the flower beds when they put in the McMansions.”

They went back outside, Cordelia pointing out the occasional rare tree or telling him what would grow where later in the summer. The whole place was like a park, Liam thought—graceful old trees, a gently sloping lawn, rock walls edged with old flower beds, even a stream. They walked, not touching, the breeze gentle, the sun taking the chill out of the air. The dog trotted around, venturing off, then returning, nosing Cordelia’s hand as if letting her know he was back. At the edge of the woods, two deer grazed. The dog barked once but didn’t give chase.

Liam’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. His jaw clenched.

“Problem?” Cordelia asked.

“No…well, the Tates just bought Nicole earrings. Two-carat diamond earrings. She sent me a picture.” He held up the phone for Posey to see.

She whistled. “Wow. Pretty.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But see, I don’t think a fifteen-year-old girl should be wearing five thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry, which is exactly why they’re buying these for her. I’ll tell Nicole they’re a bit much for high school, she’ll get mad, the Tates will tell her she deserves them, I’ll be the bad guy.”

“I guess that’s par for the course, being a dad.”

“Yeah.”

There was a little rock shed in the shade of some pine trees at the far end of the property. Cordelia fished out her keys and unlocked the door. “This was the pump house back in the day,” she said. “And voila.” She took out a blanket, spread it on the ground and sat down. “I come here sometimes for lunch,” she added by way of explanation. Shielding her eyes, she looked up at him. “Have a seat, biker boy. You look tense.”

He hesitated, then sat. The wind made a shushing noise through the pine trees, and a blue jay squawked. Cordelia was right. He was tense. His neck was so stiff it felt like he could barely move his head.

“Here. Put your head in my lap. Shut up, just do it.” Her face was pink again. Liam gave her a long look and felt the beginning of a smile. Any time Cordelia did something that might be construed as suggestive or, perish the thought, romantic, she got all pink. Aside from punching him (twice), she hadn’t touched him today, but there she was, blushing like she’d just popped the question.

For some reason, he found that ridiculously appealing.

He lay on his back and put his head in her lap. “Close your eyes,” she said.

“So bossy,” he murmured, obeying.

“Shush. Now just listen.”

“To you? Do I have to?”

“To nature, dummy. You’ll feel better.”

The wind rustled. Far off, he could hear a Harley with cut pipes tearing through the countryside. Took a while for the noise to fade. Birds chattered and twittered and whistled and whatever else birds did. Somewhere, a crow was clacking. Liam heard panting, then a thud, and a warm weight was suddenly against his side.