“I admire you,” she said honestly after a moment. “I’m envious of all the places you’ve seen . . . all the things you’ve done. I always wanted to see the world. Travel.” She sighed and looked out at the glistening river. “Vulture’s Canyon has been the limit of my world.”
“That’s not such a terrible thing,” he said, joining her in admiring the sun-soaked, sylvan scene. “It’s beautiful country, and the folks around here seem like they’re good people.”
She gave him a cautious glance of respect. “That’s true. So . . . what will you do? About your father’s fortune?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking.
He shrugged. “My dad’s got more bounce than a mob of kangaroos. He’ll be around for a long time. When I do eventually gain control of his company and money, I’ll make decisions about it based on who I am, not who he is.”
Sherona couldn’t help but smile incredulously. “And he knows this? Your dad?”
“Brandon C. Hathoway is no fool; he knows his own son. If he truly does leave me his fortune someday, he knows perfectly well his hard-earned money will end up in the hands of a tree-hugging no-hoper.”
She smiled at his accented version of no-hoper.
“He must really love you if that’s true.”
Chance shrugged. “I’m his only son. I care about the old man enough to leave him to his corporate piracy, and he cares about me enough to confine his lectures about my wastrel life to once a year at Christmas.”
“That sounds like a very mature relationship for two such different men.”
“What about you? Where are your parents?”
“Gone. They died in a car accident when I was eighteen and Derek was eight.”
His grin vanished. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. I miss them, though. Still. The diner was theirs. I’ve waitressed in it since I was twelve years old. I still feel them in there every time I walk through the door,” she reflected quietly.
“Did you raise Derek?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder you never left Vulture’s Canyon,” he said softly. “You never had much of a choice, I can imagine. Derek must be like a son to you as much as a brother. You became a parent at eighteen years old.”
“He is like a son. Luckily, he’s a wonderful person. I couldn’t have gotten any more fortunate, as unprepared as I was to parent him. What if he’d been a rebellious basket case, and there I was, a teenage guardian with no clue what I was doing? I could have scarred him for life. It didn’t turn out that way, thank God. Derek is thoughtful and smart and . . . just a great kid. He got straight A’s during his freshman year at Washington University in St. Louis. He’s in a very prestigious accounting program,” she said proudly.
“He seemed like a good guy when I met him. He certainly is protective of you.”
“What do you mean?” Sherona asked, turning toward him.
“I mean that he immediately put on his game face when I asked about you. He must be used to having the guys come nosing around his gorgeous sister.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Don’t be silly,” she muttered, studying her sandals pressing into the weeds beneath them. “There are only a handful of men around here, and I can assure you, they have better things to do than to ‘nose around’ me.”
He whipped off his glasses. She sensed his head next to her neck. She glanced sideways in surprise and saw his face hovered a mere inch from hers. His gaze speared her. He inhaled as if to catch her scent off her neck.
“I honestly can’t think of what activity would be more worthwhile than catching a nose-full of you, Sherona,” his voice rumbled, making her ear tickle. She just swallowed, his stare making her temporarily unable to speak or look away. “Did you think about what I asked you yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sherona murmured, her stare stuck on the amber dots in his eyes.
“I know you called Rill last night.”
She started slightly. She considered Rill a friend worthy of a confidence. “Did he tell you that?”
“No. I just happened to be passing the kitchen when I heard him say your name. Were you doing a reference check on my character, Sherona?” he asked, his lips twitching.
“Does it surprise you that I was, considering what you’re asking me to do?” For some reason, her words what you’re asking me to do caused a heavy heat to flow down over her belly and sex. Or maybe that was because she was inhaling his male scent.
“No. Better for you to find out firsthand from someone who’s known me for my entire adult life that I’m not a psycho,” he said, his low voice mesmerizing her. His gaze ran over her face. He stepped closer, putting his hands on her shoulders. The front of his body brushed against hers, the zipper of his canvas shorts bumping softly against her lower stomach. The tips of her breasts hardened against his ribs. A twinge of excitement went through her clit.