Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

“Jane?”

I break away from him and step back into the kitchen doorway with a wave. My heart is going a hundred miles an hour, but a few deep breaths settle it. He didn’t escort me to the door. He didn’t throw me out. Emily is still out there, waiting for me to do this, and Paige is perched at the kitchen island, waiting to see if I’m going to walk out again.

Beau breezes by me with a light touch on my lower back that propels me back into the kitchen. He goes back to the stove, and I turn back to Paige. From the way she’s looking at me now, I belong here. It doesn’t seem to matter that my contract with Beau is over. Technically, he’s fulfilled his part of it. All of his money is sitting in my bank account.

It feels too dirty to think about that money now. Everything at the inn’s kitchen is still the same. Beau moves between the stove and the sink. He bows his head over the dishes like they’re the most important project of his life. I know they’re not. He’s done many things that are more important. His dark eyes flash up at mine and he lifts his chin. He’s handsome. Windswept. Devastating. Even while he runs water and adds soap. I don’t let myself think about how similar this is to a life we could share. There’s only this moment, right now.

Paige tracks me, her arms tight to her chest. She’s wary, if not outright suspicious. I don’t blame her.

“How was your day?” I ask. “Did you go to the beach?”

She turns her face a little. Not quite looking away. Definitely refusing to answer.

“You flew here?” Beau asks. He’s concentrating on the sink, but he steals a glance at me.

“Yes.” On a private plane. With Emily. “Was it not a good beach day?”

“We went,” Beau answers.

Paige says nothing. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. She holds very still.

“You know,” I say to the room at large, but mostly to Paige, “I missed you while I was gone. I really wanted to be here with you.”

There’s a weighted pause, and then:

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I care about you so much, Paige. I missed you every second.”

She holds herself stiffly away for another moment, and then Paige’s resolve crumbles. Her stool wobbles behind her as she launches herself off of it and into my arms.

“I found a shell on the beach,” Paige says around a mouthful of grilled cheese. “Part of it was broken. But then I found another one that was curly.” She makes the curling motion with her finger. “And there were feathers.”

“What color?”

Beau tips the frying pan into the sink along with the plate he was using to butter the bread. The distance between us now feels worse than when I was in Houston and he was here. I want to touch him. More than that I want him to touch me. He glances up from the sink, his expression unreadable, and my skin goes tight and hot.

“White,” Paige says, scowling. “Beau wouldn’t let me bring one back. He said it might have germs on it.”

“It did have germs on it,” Beau puts in, and his voice is gravelly with how tired he is. “You don’t bring feathers into the house.”

“Sometimes you do.” Paige narrows her eyes. “Sometimes people do bring feathers inside. People make things from feathers.”

“Sometimes they do,” I agree, and her attention snaps back to me. Her shoulders relax. “The most important thing is to wash your hands when you come inside from the beach.”

“I always wash my hands,” Paige answers, and then she’s off. I’ve only been gone for a few days but she talks to me like I’ve been gone for months. She talks to me like she’s not sure I’ll stay, which is heartbreaking but accurate. I’m not sure if I’ll stay. It’s possible nobody is ever sure about that kind of thing.

She says something to Beau, and he answers, and I don’t hear what it is because I’m too busy peeking at him and pretending not to. Beau dries his hands on the towel by the sink, his eyes on me. Paige is looking, too. They’re waiting for me to say something.

“Jane,” insists Paige.

Beau lets go of the hand towel. “It’s time for her bath.”

“Yes. Of course it is.”

“I want Jane.” Paige crosses her arms over her chest, and Beau sighs. He keeps it quiet to hide it from Paige, but I see the slope of his shoulders and the weary circles under his eyes. I see how being gone put them at odds again.

“We’ll head upstairs.” This could be the moment Beau takes me to the door of the inn and locks it behind me. You don’t work for me anymore, Jane. This is his chance to go against me, if he’s going to. A muscle works in his jaw. He says nothing. “Bath—”