He should answer. Yesterday he’d been so angry and hopped up on adrenaline and fear that he hadn’t said anything to her other than snapping at her to take his car to the boat rental. Both their encounters had been antagonistic, but last night, as he’d sat in the twilight, he’d realized that yesterday’s foolish actions could have been avoided if he’d been nicer at the start and let her keep her photos.
Because he felt that responsibility, he was trying not to be too angry with her. Letting go of his anger left room for other feelings, though. Ones he truly wasn’t ready for nor desired. At the very least, discomfort at the sheer amount of time she was in his thoughts at all.
She knocked again. He should go down. And yet the idea of company, of small talk...what would he say? It was different when it was Jeremy or Cole or even Tori. And when he was out in public and didn’t have to actually have conversations of any consequence. It was a hello and thank you to the cashier at the market. A thank you to the lady at the post office. What would they say...especially after yesterday?
In the end, he hesitated long enough that she abandoned the door and started back down the drive, only without the paper bag.
Whatever she’d brought with her, she’d left for him. An olive branch? And he was up here like a coward. While he wasn’t feeling social, he didn’t like that idea. There was nothing to be afraid of. At least today, no one was in any danger.
He stepped to the railing. “Miss Blundon.”
She turned around and looked up, shading her eyes with her hand. “Oh! You’re up there!”
Did she have to sound so delighted by the discovery? Surely seeing him wasn’t exactly a pleasure. Not after the way he’d treated her.
“If you’ll wait a few moments, I’ll be right down.”
“Of course.” She smiled at him, a bright reward in his otherwise bleak day.
The whole way down the stairs he wondered what he was doing. He’d moved here to get away from people. To...work through his feelings without any burden of expectation. And now he was going to open the door to a redheaded sprite with eyes that snapped and a bright smile. As if yesterday had never even happened.
He’d say thank you for whatever was in the bag and send her on her way.
When he reached the door, she’d retrieved the bag and held it in her arms again, and met him with the same bright smile.
“Good morning!” she said, holding out the bag. “A peace offering for getting off on the wrong foot. Feet. Whatever. Twice.”
Her babbling shouldn’t have been charming. He instinctively reached for the bag, then regretted it because it meant automatic acceptance. He couched it in the crook of his arm, aimed a level stare at her and said, “Peace offering, or repentance for yesterday’s shenanigans?”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, making her look adorable. “Both.” She lifted an eyebrow, just a little. “But yes, peace offering. Because you were also mean, Branson Black.”
He chuckled, the sound unfamiliar to him, and he fought to take it back but it was too late. Her grin widened.
“Mean?”
“Yes,” she asserted firmly. “Mean. So I brought you some things to maybe help with that.”
He looked in the bag. He could see a bottle of wine, a few packages of snacks, a pound of coffee and a mug. “What’s all this?”
With a pleased expression, she said, “I figured you’re either stressed and need a drink, are grouchy from hunger, or undercaffeinated.” She hesitated, then added, “Yesterday notwithstanding. That was terrible judgment on my part, and I’m sorry.”
He was charmed. He couldn’t help it. Particularly because she was blunt and right. He had been mean. And yesterday she had shown terrible judgment.
“You’re still after my lighthouse.”
She sobered. “There are no strings attached to this gift. I didn’t listen to you, and yesterday I acted impulsively. I could have been in danger, and you went to great trouble to make sure I was okay. This really is just a thank you.”
He didn’t want to like her, but he did. She was so upfront. And she didn’t tiptoe around him, like anyone else who knew who he really was. He stepped back and opened the door wider, a silent invitation. He didn’t always have to be rude. And she’d apologized, which he appreciated.
Truthfully, his ogre status was getting hard to maintain. It wasn’t his normal way. It was just his way of punishing himself.
She stepped inside and halted in the foyer. “Now that’s something. I didn’t have a chance to tell you yesterday, but this—” she swept her arm out wide “—this makes a statement.”
A table sat in the middle of the open space, while the hardwood staircase wound around it, forming a column that went to the top of the house. A skylight there beamed sunlight into the entry, a natural spotlight on the flower arrangement on the pedestal table.
“It does give some wow factor,” Bran admitted.
“It sure does. This is a gorgeous place. Airy and roomy.”