Chapter 3 #2
Digby was growling and snarling around a mouthful of something while Seb accused him of being a demon. He chased the dog around a chaise and side table, but Digby was too quick. And clearly enjoying the game.
Holly understood the Tasmanian devil reference now and she stifled a laugh as Seb stood, shoving his hands through his hair.
“Drop it, Digby. Now.” His low, stern voice had little effect. Digby simply peeked out from behind the chaise, cocked his head, and then shook whatever he held with dedicated fervor.
Holly crouched down near the entrance to the room. “Oh! What’s this?” She cupped her hands as if she held something important or interesting. “Hey, Digby? What’s this?”
The ball of white fluff peeked at her, eyed Seb, then gave into his curiosity. He dropped something and shot out from behind the chaise, aiming straight for her hands.
She scooped him up before the pup knew what had happened. “Look at you,” she crooned as he squirmed a bit, still excited. “So curious and smart.” He calmed down as she stroked his silky ears.
“Everything okay?” she asked, looking around the room.
Three massive monitors dominated a mahogany desk that probably cost a small fortune.
Wires snaked across the desk and floor like digital vines, and now that the dog was quiet, she could hear a high-end server humming in a corner.
The expanse of the front lawn and gardens through the bay window was as beautiful as the harbor view.
“Wow. This must be your command center.” Holding Digby, she walked toward the shelves along the far wall.
“Basically.” He pocketed whatever Digby had stolen. “I forgot to close the doors when I lost the dog earlier.”
Her eyes widened as she realized the shelves weren’t filled with business journals or tech manuals or even books.
Most of the shelves were packed with board games—elaborately decorated editions with otherworldly names.
There were armies of figurines on display as well as a velvet lined tray with sets of polyhedral dice in various colors and materials.
“You play board games?” Holly asked, genuinely surprised. “I figured you for a strictly digital entertainment kind of guy.”
Seb walked over, standing just close enough for her to catch the woodsy scent of his skin. “I like the strategy and unpredictability of the choices other players make or the chaos created by a roll of the dice. Having to adapt to win is a different kind of puzzle.”
He reached out, his fingers hovering over the spine of a worn rulebook. “My parents were big on games. Every Friday night they were home, no matter how busy the firm got. No phones allowed.”
Holly felt a pang of empathy. Her research had revealed the plane crash—everyone who could use Google knew—but hearing him mention his parents this way made the tragedy feel real.
Present. “That’s probably what drew you to Brookwell.
More than you realize,” she murmured. “Over-accessibility is an issue everywhere, of course, but with typical small-town flair, we value the face-to-face moments.”
“Is that a practiced way of saying you’re nosy in these parts?”
She laughed. “Maybe so.”
Seb huffed. “You might be right, though I was sure it was simply about finding smog-free air and neighbors who didn’t have my net worth memorized.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you failed on that last part,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Vince and I edit the local paper, but I can promise you we’re not the only ones who know exactly how much you paid for this place or that you haven’t answered the letters from the Music Festival committee.
” She pointed to the stack of familiar envelopes on the corner of the desk.
“Right.” Seb reached for the unopened letter on top. “The committee. Vince mentioned something about a legacy seat and voting.”
She knew that was at the top of Vince’s interest with this interview.
He tapped the envelope to his palm. “I’m not the get-involved type. And that isn’t why I’m here.”
“It’s a big deal, Seb. The Marion family has had a committee seat since the start.” She shrugged. “The town is expecting the new owner of this estate to step up. If you don’t, they’ll think you’re planning to tear the place down or—heaven forbid—turn it into a private club,” she joked.
“Not a club, just private.” Seb ushered her out of the study, pulling the pocket doors closed behind him to prevent another Maltese invasion.
She set the dog on the floor once more and he trotted back to the kitchen. They trailed after him and Seb pulled two Cokes from the sub-zero refrigerator.
“So how much grief will folks give me?” he asked. He popped the caps from both bottles and handed one to her. “Can I skip out this year? I’m here to work on a merger and clear my head. I don’t know the first thing about planning a music festival or navigating small town politics.”
Holly laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. “You’re in for an education then.” she said. “And you’re probably overthinking it already.” Leaning against the counter, she studied him. “Look, let’s do the five questions.”
“Four,” he corrected. “You asked me about the board games.”
She stifled a sigh. “Four it is. Off the record for the first one, if that makes you more comfortable.”
Seb looked at her, his eyes searching hers. The silence stretched, and her pulse pounded in her ears. Finally, he nodded. “Go ahead. On the record. But if I don’t like the direction you take, the door is right there.”
She deliberately averted her gaze as she pulled out her voice recorder.
“Question one,” Holly began, “What’s the one thing about Brookwell that’s surprised you the most so far? Something other than blue skies.”
Seb leaned back, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“The dog. Digby. I thought he’d be a tiny, depressed ball and chain.
He’s my sister’s dog, but she’s deployed right now.
He’s a handful, but he’s also the only thing in my life that doesn’t care about my encryption software. ”
A solid answer that revealed more than she expected. She rewarded him with a smile and ignored her curiosity about his sister. “Why the Marion estate? There are plenty of modern and historic mansions in Charleston that probably have better Wi-Fi.”
Seb looked past her toward the harbor. “This estate also comes with a lighthouse. I’ve always been fascinated by their history and service.
Navigational points in the dark, right? I liked the idea of owning a piece of history that was designed to guide people home.
Plus, the solitude of being a lighthouse keeper is intriguing. ”
Holly’s heart skipped at the mention of the lighthouse. She hadn’t realized the estate still included the old, decommissioned light. Hearing him speak of it as a guide felt... significant.
She cleared her throat. This was Vince’s interview and he would want to follow up on her initial queries his way. She held up three fingers. “What are you afraid of, Sebastian Sterling? Besides a nosy reporter with a gift for managing your dog.”
Seb didn’t flinch. He just looked at the empty hallway, the vastness of the house seeming to weigh on him. “I value my quiet and privacy,” he murmured.
Waiting, she watched his throat work as he took a long pull on the Coke bottle. That shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it felt in this charged moment.
“Still, being alone…” He took a deep breath. “That’s the catch. All the success in the world doesn’t matter if there’s no one to play the game with.”
His answer stole her breath. Was he concerned about his sister not coming home? That was not the next question and yet, she wanted to honor his sincerity. Her gaze locked on his, she swayed toward him before she caught herself.
He took a step back. “That’s three, Holly.”
The way he said her name sent a shiver across her skin. She had to pull herself together.
“Right. Um. What’s your favorite strudel flavor?”
“How do you know I have one?” he challenged.
“Give me a little credit, Sterling. I’m a reporter, attuned to nuance and such.”
“And such?” He chuckled. “Apple,” he confessed. “It’s classic for a reason.”
“Can’t argue.” She forced her lips into a bright smile and turned off the recorder. “Thanks, I’ll pass this on to Vince and he can follow up and finish accordingly. As for the rest, is tomorrow good for you?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ll want a guide in town,” she replied. “Buffer might be the more appropriate word. The Bread Basket doesn’t deliver.”
“I’m a quick study, Holly. I can navigate Central Avenue.”
“Uh-huh.” Seb stared at her, his gaze so intent she nearly started fidgeting.
“Look, a Google search can’t tell you which booth at the Pelican Pub has the best acoustics for auditioning bands,” she said.
“And it certainly won’t tell you how to win over the locals or prevent a misstep with someone on the committee. ”
Seb sighed, a long, defeated sound that lacked conviction.
She chose not to press any further and handed him another business card. “Call me when you’re ready for an assist.”
He trailed her to the front door, and stopped, his hand resting on the frame just above her head. “You’re very persistent,” he noted.
The man had no idea. She looked up into the warmth of his brown eyes. The man was temptation personified. “My best and worst quality,” she managed.
Somehow, she found the door handle and let herself out. Away from the famous house and the sexy new owner. She was halfway down the walk when she remembered the sad state of her bicycle.
Oh, well. The walk would do her good.
“Holly, hang on.”
She stopped, waiting as he and Digby jogged up.
“I promised you a ride home.”
“It’s really not far,” she assured him. The last thing she needed was another hit of close confines with the man. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” She smiled, hoping to convince him.
“All right.” His brow dipped. “And I’ll give you and Vince an exclusive interview. But in exchange, you stay around.”
“Around?”
He nodded as if she knew exactly what he meant. “You can help me avoid the traps and pitfalls of small-town life. If folks expect me to be something I don’t want to be, you can be my advisor.”
“Sure.” She was already having her doubts.
“Name your price.”
“Spoken like a man with more money than sense,” she teased.
“And?”
“Transparency,” she said. “That’s all I ask. No secrets. Not with me.”
His gaze darkened for a moment, a flicker of something she couldn’t identify crossing his features. But he nodded. “Transparency. I can try that.”
“Good.” Holly adjusted her bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. You and Digby should be ready by eight. And Seb?”
“Yeah?”
“Wear a shirt with sleeves this time. Some of the older ladies in town have weak hearts.”
His laughter followed her all the way to the gate. And echoed in her heart all the way home.