Chapter 5 #3
“You’re right, though. I wasn’t being strictly… open, I guess.”
Deep breath.
His eyes flash, this feeling that’s there and gone in an instant.
Not vindication.
More like an acknowledgment he was right. Plus, an intense flash of disgust because I lied to his face.
But then he looks at me, green eyes like jade in the night, the firelight playing across the shadows of his face, and I know he’s waiting.
Come clean.
Right. Dear God.
I clear my throat. “The thing is, I don’t know what to say. Or how to explain it. My grandfather was—I guess you’d call him eccentric.”
“Leonidas?”
“The one and only. When I inherited this place, he left a letter saying there’s something important here. Something that belonged to him. But I don’t have a freaking clue where to start.”
Kane goes silent, like he’s taking his time thinking, slowly digesting the news.
The opposite of me.
I’m a knee-jerky kind of girl who likes to get things done. When my brother was spiraling, I practically shoved him back into the world.
“Was that so hard, Miss Blackthorn?”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Don’t push your luck, dude. I’m telling you because yes, I invaded your privacy and I feel pretty crappy about it. And yes, you’re also living in this house, but let’s not forget who owns it. And would it kill you to call me Margot for once?”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Gonna kick us out, Margot?”
“If you piss me off enough… yeah. But the kids can stay. They’re nice.” I cock my head, ignoring the warning in my belly that says this feels like flirting. “They make me think you must be doing something right. Don’t prove me wrong.”
That half smile he’s wearing blooms into a smirk.
“Just you wait until Sophie tells you how many Earths can fit in the Sun for the thousandth time. Or when Dan starts his drumming at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning,” he says dryly. “You wouldn’t believe how much laundry these kids can make. Mount fucking Everest.”
I’m laughing.
It’s so jarring, thinking of this tattooed, self-propelled ego who rarely cracks a smile running around and trying to keep up with his kids’ laundry.
The thought relaxes me, and I settle into the blankets.
“I stand by my decision,” I say.
The other corner of his mouth tips up to join the first. “Guess I’d better do my best not to piss you off then, duchess.”
“Guess so. You could also help with the big mystery, since you’re so handy.” I must be desperate if I’m asking Saint Lucifer for help.
But I’m seriously at my wit’s end.
“I could. Any idea what it is you’re looking for? What he might’ve left here?”
“Not one.” I sigh. “I’d kill for a hint, but nobody has one yet. Not my brother, not my parents, not my grandfather’s lawyer who was handling the estate.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for anything out of place.”
The sincerity in his voice surprises me. Here I am, dumping one more chore on him, yet he’s handling it like a gentleman.
“Thanks.” I smile.
“And hey, seeing as I’m heading into town tomorrow, why don’t you come with? There might be a place we can rent a metal detector or get some other tools to poke around.”
It’s not a bad idea.
The last thing I expected from this grouchy lump of coal.
Then again, he doesn’t seem so awful now.
It’s a small smile and a few kind words, sure, but he’s acting human. Maybe the beer loosened him up.
“Have you tried anything like that yet?” he asks.
“No. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it until now.” Even if it’s a shot in the dark, it’s better than nothing.
“The kids went through a phase where they were obsessed with finding buried treasure. We used to bring a metal detector out to a few local parks. Never scared up anything too interesting besides a couple old silver quarters.”
From ancient treasure to the stars. I can see the connection.
It makes sense.
I also like that he indulges the kids. It’s undeniable how much he loves them, and he’s not afraid to show it.
“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”
He nods, but there’s still that ghost of a smile on his lips. It sparks just enough confidence to ask a question that’s been bugging me all day.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what had you so upset on the phone? I saw you take the call. You looked like you were ready to chuck your phone in the lake.”
The smile disappears.
His eyes become black glass as he shuts down, his gaze dropping to a point past me. His mouth hardens into an angry line that tells me more than any words will.
“How damn long were you spying?”
Ouch.
Clearly, he worships his privacy.
Just like when he found me in his room.
Why does it feel like we’ve taken one step forward and two steps back?
“I had the window open. I wasn’t spying. Your voice just carries.” The fresh air was nice, that soft fall breeze I was so sure would help my muse. “I wasn’t even paying attention at first, but you got a little heated and—and it was hard to ignore.”
“Right.” His body language is all coiled irritation. “It’s nothing, just some old work business that’s not my problem anymore. They just don’t know when to leave me alone and figure it out on their own.”
“Did you quit?”
He hesitates.
“Close enough.” He twists away from me then, fixing his eyes on the dark trees beyond the lake.
I don’t press him. Not when he’s obviously done with this conversation.
I just join him in companionable silence, staring at the distant, dark waters under the moon and wondering.
What sort of life does this Saint have beyond his kids?
How many storms are raging behind his guarded green eyes?