Page 56 of Unpacking Secrets
“What is it?” I asked, laying my hand over his.
“You’re a grown woman and I would never imply that you need a chaperone or a babysitter,” he began, “but I’d feel a lot better if you’d hold off on any more outdoor adventures by yourself. I’ll come with you anytime you want, but I don’t like the idea of you out in the woods or trekking the countryside alone until we get to the bottom of this.”
“You think there’s actually danger?” I drew back a little, searching his hazel eyes.
Before seeing the charcoal portrait on my lap, I might've laughed at his concern, brushed it off as an overreaction, but now, with those bold black strokes in my mind, I felt as unsettled as he looked. It seemed like he was torn between not wanting to scare me and not wanting to keep something from me.
“Probably not,” he admitted. “But I thought I saw something out back this morning, by the treeline.”
I jerked in surprise. “What?”
“It could have been a deer, a raccoon—anything, really. I just got a weird feeling from it and I’d rather be safe than sorry, especially when it comes to you.”
The simple words caused a flutter inside my chest, followed by a strange warmth that radiated throughout my body. I’d explore that at a later time.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He cocked a dark brow, clearly surprised by my swift agreement.
My responding smile was equal parts rueful and amused. “Yes, I promise I won’t go traipsing around by myself. You might eventually regret your offer to come with me, though. I still have a lot of ground to cover and it gets pretty boring for onlookers when I go into artist mode. Sarah once said it’s like watching paint dry. Probably because it literally is that, sometimes.”
Henry dropped his lips to mine in response, kissing me until I set aside the sketchbook and nearly climbed onto his lap.
“I won’t regret it, Red,” he whispered against my mouth. “Not a single moment.”
When I drew back, breathless and flushed, Henry couldn’t hold back a grin.
“What are you smirking at, Mr. Walker?” I asked.
“You taste like maple syrup,” he said in a low voice that sent goosebumps dancing over my skin.
“Hmm,” I murmured, running my tongue across my lower lip in a way that caused his pupils to blow wide. “What a fascinating idea.”
Henry’s gaze sharpened on my face. I wanted to kiss him, wanted him to sink into me again, right here on the floor. Even with the damn dog looking on, I suspected he would be willing to oblige, if I asked.
Instead, he kissed me again, hard and swift.
“I’m more than happy to participate in whatever dirty thoughts are going through that beautiful head of yours,” he said, “but I don’t want you to get upset with me for distracting you from the box.”
“Right. Let’s finish this.” I leaned my forehead against his while I caught my breath, then I wrinkled my nose. “Man, am I a terrible person to be thinking about sex while we’re sorting through my dead grandmother’s belongings?”
Henry’s laughter reassured me. “Juliet, I willneverfault you for thinking about sex around me, no matter what we’re doing.”
He brushed his lips over mine one last time before I shifted back to my spot beside him and reached into the box. The notebooks were much less interesting—and far less revealing—than the sketches, but we scanned each page for anything pertinent. Mostly they held lists of supply orders, cost comparisons between local stores, and records of repairs to the building and grounds.
With a sigh, I tossed aside the final notebook and stretched my arms over my head. Henry didn’t even try to hide his appreciation for the way my breasts strained against the fabric of my shirt as I arched.
“Last stop, file folders.” I shot him a warning glance when I noticed where his gaze lingered.
“Yes ma’am,” Henry replied, pulling out the small stack of folders.
We each opened one, reading off headings to one another as we sorted through them. I sucked in a sharp breath as I pulled out a document.
“This must be a copy of my grandfather’s will.”
Henry leaned over to look, then let out a low whistle. “He left Nan a small fortune. I knew she owned the property outright, but I figured she’d just owned it for so long, she’d probably paid off the mortgage over the years. I think his family was pretty well-off, but he had no siblings and his parents died before your mother left town.”
I looked at Henry curiously. “The inn makes enough of a profit to stay in operation, though?”
