Chapter Eleven
HONOR
“Yeah,no. There’s no need for that, and I’m not going to let us freeze,” I said, heading into the only bedroom in the pool house, bypassing the kitchen and bar my parents had used when entertaining by the pool. The cupboards were probably empty, but the closets weren’t.
I pulled open the linen closet and smiled. “We might not have much, but we can get by.”
I pulled out a long man-sized robe and tossed it to him along with several towels. I grabbed a robe for myself, wrapped myself in the warmth, and knotted the matching belt at my waist.
Walking back to the door, I picked up our wet clothes and stuck them into the washer.
“That’s convenient,” he said, helping me.
“This was originally the mother-in-law quarters that my parents had built for my grandmother.”
“Did she visit often?” he asked.
I grinned and poured detergent over our clothes and started the machine. “Too often, and this house was too small, so she bought the one next door.”
“So, your parents did have money?” he asked.
What was it with this guy’s obsession with money? My shoulders fell. “They did, and when they died, it went into a trust for my sisters and I. It helps pay the bills but by no means makes any of us rich. We grew up next door with our grandmother. She raised us, but this place was still our sanctuary and where the memories were. I think Grams couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go either.”
He gave a slow nod as if satisfied with my answer.
“I’m sorry about your parents.” His voice was quiet in the house as I moved to the fireplace.
“It was a long time ago,” I answered, arranging wood in the hearth for a fire.
“I’m surprised you didn’t sell the place. I’m sure it’s worth a ton.”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “This is all we have left of our parents. None of us would sell. Ever.”
He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It just seems like upkeep probably still costs a pretty penny for the house, yard, and the pool.”
“This is our childhood home. This is the place we feel closest to our dead parents. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“Right,” Hugh said as his eye twitched. He grabbed the logs out of my hand and started setting them up. “You got any matches?”
“Let’s hope,” I said, walking into the kitchen, with him following. I checked all the drawers and the only spot where we kept the long lighter used to start the burn. Empty. “I guess not.”
“You ready for my body heat?” he asked, reaching for the tie on his robe.
My gaze landed on the little ashtray that Gwen had hidden during our teen years, and I grinned. “No need.”
I grabbed a chair and hurried to the closet again. Stepping on it, I found the pack of cigarettes that were more than a decade old and the lighter that Gwen had been using when she smoked. I flicked it once, then twice, and it flickered to life.
“We’ve got heat.”
I twisted to hop down and pitched forward, landing in Hugh’s arms. He stared down at me. There was no sign of pain on his face, not even from the shoulder. His touch sizzled every part of me until my heart quickened and I turned breathy.
“You need to be more careful,” he said as I slowly slid down his body. He gently skimmed my cheek with the back of his knuckles in a slow caress.
I was mesmerized by his eyes. A swirl of heat flickered in his deep blues, darkening them as he stared at me. The way he looked at me made me feel like I’d known him forever and not just in my dreams.
“You’re right—” I’d started to agree when his lips came down on mine, stealing my words.
He pressed his body against mine. I dropped the lighter as I leaned into his touch. Needing more, wanting more.
