Chapter 7

7

Kinsley walked into the office Monday morning with her head held high, heels clicking on the polished floor. As she approached Daegan’s office, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the awkwardness that was sure to come.

She knocked lightly on the door before entering. When Mr. Westerhouse looked up from his desk, his expression was unreadable. “Good morning, Kinsley,” he said, his voice even.

“Good morning, Mr. Westerhouse,” she replied, trying to keep her tone professional. She handed him a stack of papers. “Here are the reports you requested.”

Daegan took them, barely glancing at the first page. “Thank you.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, the events of Friday hanging in the air. Kinsley shifted on her feet, unsure of what to say. Mr. Westerhouse seemed equally at a loss, his eyes darting back to his computer screen.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to work.”

He didn’t respond. His fingers tapped against the desk, eyes fixed on the screen with a sharpness that felt dismissive. Kinsley closed the door softly behind her. She’d barely walked the few doors down to her own office when her phone started ringing.

She hastily answered it. “This is Kinsley.”

“Kinsley, this is Tina. Did Brian ever get back to you about your house?”

“Yeah, he actually stopped by this weekend,” Kinsley said, her eye catching Mr. Westerhouse coming through the doorway. Her heart skipped as her grip tightened on the receiver.

“Oh, that’s good. Does it seem like he can help?”

“Yeah, I think we’re going to move forward with it.” Kinsley’s finger played with the phone’s cord as Mr. Westerhouse walked to her desk, the folder in his hand held a little too tightly. He plopped it down, his eyes brushing past hers as though contact might ignite something neither of them wanted to face. Then, just as quickly, he was gone.

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see what you do with the place! Old Victorians are my favorite. I—” Tina paused. “I’m sorry, Kinsley, I have to go. I forgot I have a conference call in five minutes.”

“Have fun,” Kinsley laughed.

“I wish,” Tina said before hanging up.

As Kinsley set down the receiver, she looked down at the files he’d left her. The air between them was certainly different. Thicker. Perhaps this was how things should be.

The day dragged on, the tension palpable. As evening approached, Kinsley gathered her things, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. She knocked on her boss’s door to say goodnight.

“I’m heading out,” she said when he called for her to enter. “Is there anything else you need?”

Mr. Westerhouse shook his head, eyes glued to his computer monitor. “No, that will be all. Goodnight, Kinsley.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Westerhouse.” The formality had turned bitter on her tongue.

As she walked out into the humid evening air, Kinsley couldn’t shake the heaviness that had settled over her. Things had changed, and she wasn’t sure they could ever return to how they were. They didn’t need to. Soon, the contractor would start the renovations, getting her one step closer to quitting this job to start her bed-and-breakfast. Despite that, once a cherished reminder of her family, the house now felt like a wedge driving them further apart with each passing day.

But I’m not giving it up.

The next morning, Daegan arrived at the office early, hoping to get a head start and clear his mind. However, the events of the previous day and the overheard conversation still weighed heavily on him. As he settled into his chair, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.

Morning passed in a blur of emails and phone calls. Before he knew it, it was time for his meeting. Daegan gathered his notes and made his way to the conference room, where Lourdes, Kinsley, and a few others were already seated. He paused at the door, as nervous at choosing a seat as a child on his first day of school.

He slipped into the end seat near Lourdes and adjusted his tie. It had been fine all day, but suddenly it felt too tight around his neck.

“You took her from me,” Lourdes whispered with a side-eye.

“What?” Daegan adjusted the height of the seat.

“Kinsley. She was supposed to be mine.” Lourdes turned to him with a smile. Her banter was all in good fun.

“You weren’t here.” He glanced toward Kinsley; her chin rested on her palm as she reviewed her notes on her laptop. “I really needed a personal assistant. Executive decision,” Daegan stated, his cheek tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I heard the two of you went for coffee last week.” She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. He turned his head to see Lourdes’ squinted eyes—a silent dare.

“It was just coffee,” Daegan said, though his voice carried an edge even he couldn’t ignore. “Now she knows where to get the good stuff.”

“And how many times have you asked her to get you one? On her own?” Lourdes surveyed him.

“I haven’t wanted one since,” he lied.

Fortunately, the meeting began and put a halt to Lourdes’ line of questioning. It was hard to concentrate on the presentation of a new proposed software for the office. His eyes kept drifting to Kinsley. She on the other hand seemed engrossed in taking notes, avoiding his gaze. Lourdes stood up, discussing how the program could help streamline the office’s responsibilities, but Daegan’s mind was miles away.

“Mr. Westerhouse, what are your thoughts on it?” Lourdes asked, snapping him back to attention. She squinted, calling him out on his bluff.

Daegan cleared his throat. “I think it would be a nice addition. But I will trust your judgment as the office manager.” He hoped his brief lapse in focus had gone unnoticed by everyone else.

The meeting continued, but the tension continued too, hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Anytime Kinsley looked at him, their eyes met for only a second before they looked away, as if afraid to acknowledge the growing distance between them.

When everyone filed out of the room to return to their tasks, Daegan called out, “Kinsley, can I see you in my office for a moment?”

Kinsley nodded, though a flicker of apprehension crossed her face. She followed him to his office, closing the door softly behind her.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, her voice tight.

Daegan leaned against his desk, trying to appear casual. “I just wanted to ask how your weekend went. We haven’t had a chance to talk.” Truthfully, he had been avoiding her as much as he could.

“It was fine,” she said, her voice steady. But he could see her fingers tighten around her laptop. Kinsley stayed near the door, the distance between them feeling as deliberate as the way she avoided meeting his eyes.

“That’s good,” he said, walking around his desk. As Daegan sat down in his chair, their eyes met for a moment before Kinsley looked at the windows behind him.

An awkward silence stretched between them. Daegan desperately wanted to ask about the “he” Kinsley had mentioned on the phone yesterday, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The thought of her with someone else made his chest tighten. Who was the man that had been over this past weekend? Cameron?

“Was there anything else?” Kinsley asked, pulling him from his theories.

Daegan shook his head. “No, that’s all. I just wanted to make sure…that we’re good.”

Kinsley gave a curt nod and turned to leave. As she reached for the door handle, Daegan’s voice stopped her.

“Kinsley...”

She paused, looking back at him expectantly. As their eyes locked, a warmth washed over him.

“…Are we good?” The words felt inadequate, but they were all he had.

Kinsley gave a slight smile. “We’re good, Mr. Westerhouse.” The formality stung more than it should have. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Daegan sank into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. Maybe it’s better this way. After all, emotions held no place in business.

It wasn’t a surprise to Kinsley that Wednesday had been fairly uneventful with her boss. Her interactions with him so far that week had been quick and concise. She hoped that Mr. Westerhouse had dropped the idea of buying her house. But with it, it seemed like he’d also dropped the idea of speaking to Kinsley beyond direct work orders and company meetings.

With Thursday morning already off to a good start, her week might end on a positive note. Though the new distance they had was cold, she was starting to adjust to it. It felt like she could breathe—albeit a breath that was as icy as winter air, despite the summer warmth outside. At least he was keeping things professional.

Kinsley could hear his voice echoing down the hallway as she walked toward his office. The tone sent a shiver down her spine; this was worse than he’d been at his house that night. She hadn’t known such a thing was possible. Perhaps her positive outlook was about to change. For a moment, she thought about turning around and finding something else to occupy herself, while Mr. Westerhouse gave an earful to whomever was on his bad side today. Instead, Kinsley took a steadying breath and continued on to the end of the hall, papers in hand.

His door was open. When she peeked inside, Mr. Westerhouse waved her in. Kinsley was partially relieved to know the person receiving his ire was only on the other end of the phone in his hand, not seated before his desk. The secondhand embarrassment of that would not have allowed her to stay.

“Waiting until the last minute to tell me this isn’t exactly professional,” Mr. Westerhouse said, voice sharp as a whip as he gripped the phone tight. The bite in his voice was enough to make Kinsley want to cower.

She sat opposite his desk, handing him the papers he had requested earlier.

He mouthed a “thank you” to her as he took them. Kinsley was careful not to touch him. “I don’t care what excuses you have, Roger. That’s the second time now that you forgot to tell me about something I need to attend. You just did it to Lourdes recently. You can’t just schedule my own meetings and then not tell me until the day before. If I forgot to issue you your paycheck, I’m sure you wouldn’t be too fond of it, either.”

Ouch.

“I don’t want to hear it, Roger. Save it. I will see you there.” Mr. Westerhouse hung up. The distant voice of Roger was still rambling until it clicked into the receiver.

Kinsley sat stiffer than usual in the chair, not quite knowing whether to speak up or wait for her boss to break through the dense, awkward silence. She’d never seen Mr. Westerhouse exhibit this sort of temper before.

The man thumbed through the papers Kinsley had handed him. “Do you want the good news or bad news first?” he asked as he reviewed the printouts, voice unamused.

“Bad?” Kinsley asked. The scent of his cologne gently wafted toward her from the other side of the desk.

“We have to be at the Seattle office by noon tomorrow,” he bit out.

Her brow shot up. “We?”

“I’ll need your help with preparing for this meeting. Taking notes, maybe making a few phone calls while we’re there.” He looked up and their eyes connected; he had been careful not to let that happen all week. “I need you there with me.” Those words, somehow, sounded different—like a hint of longing was trapped inside.

Her breath caught as neither of them looked away. Those warm brown eyes held her captive, making it easy to forget the careful barriers she’d built over the past week. Her mind screamed at her to check the time, to remember the betrayal, but she found herself leaning toward the pull of his gaze instead. It was dangerous, this warmth blooming in her chest. She needed to focus, to remember the house, the feeling of being used. But all she could think about was how much harder it was to ignore his physical presence when he was so close to her. The past few days had made it easier, but with just one look all that progress was crumbling at her feet.

Mr. Westerhouse of course seemed unaffected. “I wish it wasn’t such short notice,” he continued, eyes darting back down to his papers. “We’ll leave tonight on a red-eye, be gone Friday and Saturday, and then return here on Sunday. Can you swing it?”

“Tonight?” Kinsley felt like a child the way she kept asking instead of answering, but she was still trying to catch up with the past sixty seconds. A few days away with her boss? The thought made her stomach flip. Being alone with him… She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be.

“I’ll pick you up at seven and we’ll take the jet. It shouldn’t be too bad. Just wear something comfortable for the flight.” Mr. Westerhouse offered a brief smile before frowning at one particular document his eyes were scanning.

A weekend trip? Alone? Every fiber in her being screamed to say no. She couldn’t risk being alone with him for so long—not after everything that had happened. And yet, her mouth remained stubbornly closed, the words she wanted to say locked behind the warmth in his gaze.

“I guess this will give me time to read one of the books I borrowed,” Kinsley joked weakly, wishing she had the courage to object.

“Now that’s looking on the bright side, Kins.”

Kins. There it was again. Her cheeks warmed as her fingers rubbed the leather of the chair.

“What about the good news?” Kinsley was almost afraid to ask, but it would be unprofessional of her to miss a beat in their conversation.

Mr. Westerhouse spun in his chair, setting the paperwork on top of a growing stack. He stood slowly, eyes locking onto hers as he circled the desk. Each step seemed deliberate as he stopped by her side. His presence was magnetic, pulling her toward him in a way she couldn’t explain. She tensed, wondering if he felt it, too.

Her boss smiled. “There’s something I want to show you,” he said, voice softened. It was a sharp contrast to the tone he’d been using on the phone two minutes earlier. He moved closer, the distance between them shrinking as his gaze fell over her face. “It was important to my father, and it still is to me and the company. It’s something we hold close.”

There was something else behind his eyes, something she couldn’t quite read. Was this part of his plan to get closer to her? To gain her trust? Whatever it was, Kinsley had to remember one thing—her home was not for sale.

The drive to the edge of town was only fifteen minutes. As they passed through, Daegan noticed there were more boarded up businesses than the last time he had come out this way. It couldn’t have been more than a month.

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” There was an element of concern in Kinsley’s voice, though it didn’t phase Daegan much. He knew she was safe.

“You’re fine,” he reassured her as he made a turn. Daegan pulled into the shelter’s back parking lot, claiming a spot near the volunteer entrance. “This is the regional shelter. They provide meals and beds for those in need, including a food pantry and other social services. Over the last few years, it has been essential to not just the town of Trueport, but also the rest of the county. Westerhouse Investments Group has been a major contributor to this cause since my father created the company.” Daegan’s voice softened, his gaze dropping to the steering wheel as the memories resurfaced. “It was very important to him to give back to those less fortunate, especially those in the community. Every week he would come to the shelter to help out, whether it was organizing the pantry, serving food, doing laundry, or anything else. He made sure the kitchens were always fully stocked. Donated large quantities of clothing, toys for kids, any other items that would help. He didn’t want people in the community to go without.”

“Your dad had a good, kind heart,” Kinsley said quietly.

“He would always come back from this place with a smile on his face and such a humble demeanor. Always said that it takes so little to make such a big impact. Even a kind gesture can make someone’s day. An uplifting meal that costs so little can nourish not only the human body, but the human spirit.”

“That’s quite…deep.”

“But also true,” Daegan added. “He would try to get us kids to go too, but we were selfish young boys that didn’t quite understand just how well-off we were. I see it now, of course. Looking back, I wish he’d been harder on us and forced us to go with him—to get us to see the reality of the world. But back then… I was an ass. My mother would help, though. It’s still a passion of hers to help others.”

“Where does she live now?” Kinsley asked. He wondered how she knew his mother wasn’t a local anymore. Laurel, perhaps.

“After my father passed, she spent a lot of time visiting her sister out west in Montana. Big Sky Country became her muse, you could say. Or perhaps it was her therapy and way of coping with things. She still owns a condo here in town; it’s small but it’s enough for her when she wants to come visit. She never stays long, though—her heart is in Montana with Aunt Tilly. Out there she thrives.” He paused. “I miss her, but how could I be upset?” Daegan felt a tug of a smile, thinking of how excited his mother got to show him what she and Tilly had created this time. When the sky is endless, the possibilities are too, she would say.

“Do you visit her often?” Kinsley’s tone was sincere.

“Not as often as I should.” He paused, the envelope in his desk at home weighing down his thoughts. “Now that you mention it, her home isn’t terribly far from our work this weekend. If we are going to be out that way…” His voice trailed off as his eyes drifted over to meet hers.

“You could stop by,” she suggested. Kinsley’s attempt to finish his thought was cute, but not quite what he’d been hinting at.

He smiled, not wanting to correct her. He had full intentions to bring her along. She would enjoy the property and, if luck was in his favor, he might be able to convince her to sell her home.

“But until then, we have some other work to get done,” he said as he exited his vehicle and led Kinsley inside.

The sharp tang of disinfectant clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread. The worn linoleum beneath his feet squeaked, its faded patterns a testament to decades of wear. Voices echoed down the halls—some hushed with gratitude, others hurried with purpose—all of them a symphony of community and resilience. He could almost feel the warmth of his father’s pride beside him, as if his firm hand would grasp Daegan’s shoulder at any moment. This place was more than a shelter—it was a living piece of his father’s legacy.

Daegan stole a glance at Kinsley in time to catch her taking it all in.

“Mr. Westerhouse!” a familiar voice shouted from across the room.

Daegan turned to find Patti waving at him. After all these years, Patti was still in charge of the shelter and all the outreach programs that ran through it. Daegan lifted a hand as a brief ‘hello’ and whispered, “This way,” to Kinsley. Grabbing her hand, he led her through the crowded room.

A jolt of awareness burned through him with every step. He wasn’t linking fingers with her, yet just taking her hand in his was waking up something dormant within him. Why had he grabbed her hand, instead of just expecting her to follow him?

Kinsley lightly squeezed his hand, bringing his thoughts back around. Swiftly, he continued through the busy room toward Patti.

“A new face today!” Patti exclaimed, shining her pearly whites which Daegan had grown fond of in the last decade.

“This is my new personal assistant, Kinsley. Kinsley, this is Patti DeVeau, director of the shelter.” Daegan let go of Kinsley’s hand, though not before Patti took notice.

“Oh, a personal assistant?” her gazed shifted from Daegan to Kinsley. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, dear, and I hope you’re ready to hustle.”

“Pleasure to meet you, as well.” Kinsley smiled back.

“Today I need you two to help put together some care packages of food. Families will be coming by to pick them up today and tomorrow.” Patti directed her gaze toward Kinsley. “We have been trying to crack down on food insecurity within the community, especially for families with children. You’ll find a list of the different items that go in the bags, and how many of the bags for each household and—” she cut herself off. “Well, I think you can figure it out.” She flashed another smile. “Just head right on down the hall and it’s the first door on the right.”

“Thanks, Patti,” Daegan said. As they turned to walk down the narrow hallway, Daegan placed his hand on the small of Kinsley’s back. The touch was casual, but the warmth that spread through his fingertips wasn’t. She glanced back at him, her expression unreadable, but something in her gaze lingered longer than before. For just a second, it made his heart stumble.

The aroma of freshly baked bread greeted them warmly as they walked in. Boxes upon boxes of donations were set up on tables with yet more tables empty—a place to put the empty bags that needed filling. The room itself was larger than one might think. Its outdated salmon-pink walls and faded linoleum floors likely dated back to the 70s. Large, bright floor lamps provided a bit of an inconsistent lighting across the room, assisting the dim overhead globes. He really needed to get that milk glass replaced, or see someone about the wattage.

“Why don’t you set some bags out on the empty tables, Kins, and I’ll look for the packaging sheet from Patti,” Daegan suggested, walking toward the tables with the donations. After a very brief search, he came across the instructions left by Patti. The first set of donations were for fifty bags with a focus on vegetables, fruits, canned goods, and bread.

“Why did you bring me along?” Kinsley asked as she began setting out bags.

“It’s a slow day at work and I figured we both could use a few hours out of the office,” he lied. In truth, he wanted her to see the state of the town—the struggle, the boarded-up businesses. Maybe she’d understand the bigger picture beyond her single home if she saw firsthand what was at stake.

“Like our coffee walk?”

“That was different,” he said. “That was a necessity.”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught her looking his way. But instead of annoyance, there was a sly smile on her face. However she felt about him, she was at least happy to help out those in need.

As he reached for another can of green beans, he couldn’t help but watch her work. He’d been avoiding doing so all week, and the distance had left him hollow. Her focused, delicate fingers deftly tied off a bag, her face framed by the soft glow of the outdated lamps. The words he needed to say were right there, heavy and leaden, but the sound of her laughing softly as she worked brought them to a screeching halt. This house wasn’t just a property. It was her home, her anchor. How could he ask her to give that up?

He couldn’t do it—not yet. But he also couldn’t forget about it. His father’s legacy and the future of the entire town hinged on its success. But Kinsley was becoming important, too, and that terrified him more than any deal ever could.

Mr. Westerhouse seemed so distant even as he worked just a few steps away. Unaffected by what happened between them just days ago, or by a last-minute trip across the country. And, possibly most shocking to Kinsley, unaffected by the way he had gently touched her, as if it was an everyday occurrence. This was the longest time she’d spent in a room alone with him since that awful visit to her home, when he’d confirmed her worst suspicions.

But the lingering warmth of his hand on hers still sent a shiver down hers. This wasn’t part of the plan—to feel anything for him, to see this side of him. But here she was, unable to let go of the memory of his touch.

Perhaps she was over-analyzing, reading too much into it. She had a tendency to do that at times. Yet she couldn’t shake off this feeling, or the confusion it stirred within her.

As the afternoon progressed, a new side of Mr. Westerhouse began to emerge. His kind generosity was blatantly obvious. In the office, he was different, more reserved. But here, amongst people with giving hearts, his compassion for others shined through. He wasn’t entirely the arrogant, out-of-touch billionaire she had originally assumed him to be. The man had turned her biggest turnoff into a major turn-on.

Even the car ride back to the office felt different. He was cracking jokes, talking excitedly about how he would see Kinsley in just a few short hours for their late-night flight across the country. Instead of explaining what work they would be traveling for, he brought up different goals he had for helping around the community. I should be excited, Kinsley thought to herself as she listened. But she wasn’t sure what to make of any of it.

It would be so much easier if her boss was an asshole. Sure, he had his moments, but the version of Mr. Westerhouse she saw today was authentic. The way he smiled, the kindness he had shown—it was chipping away at her excuses for keeping him at arm’s length. Just a few days ago, he was trying to buy her home; what on earth was she thinking smiling back? There was no room for him in her life beyond being her boss. Even a friendship would be stilted at best.

She felt as if she was only half-present in that car ride back to the office. Reality didn’t snap back into place until Mr. Westerhouse pulled up next to her car and told her he would see her at seven o’clock sharp—to drive them to the airport. “Ah, yeah, right,” Kinsley sputtered.

“Is something the matter, Kins?” Mr. Westerhouse asked as she was about to shut the car door. Her eyes met his, and he lingered for just a second too long, as if searching for something beneath her smile. He had a way of reading her that was unsettling—like he knew exactly what she was thinking, even when she barely understood it herself.

Of course he would notice. Her heart pounded, each beat echoing in her ears. Why did he have to be so observant? For a moment, she hesitated, tempted to tell him everything—to ask him why he was doing this, why he was making it so hard for her. But letting him in would mean letting her guard down. She was better off not knowing those answers. “Oh no, just, you know… Going through a mental checklist of things I need to pack.” She flashed a quick smile.

Frown lines appeared on his forehead. “Ah, right,” he said, though he didn’t seem convinced.

He seemed to have a way of seeing through her lately, even when Kinsley tried to hide it. It made everything far more dangerous.

“Change into something comfortable for the flight. See you at seven.” He flashed her a smile, the one that made her lose her breath.

“Sounds good. Goodbye.” Kinsley shut the car door, letting out an exhale as she fumbled for her keys. How was he able to get under her skin like this, making her feel things she wasn’t ready to feel? She had spent so long building walls no one could climb. But with just a smile and a touch, he was threatening to tear them down.

Was this the real Daegan Westerhouse? Or was this the CEO trying to work his way into acquiring her property? Kinsley wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that this trip was going to be anything but easy.

A few days with Daegan was one thing, but sitting next to him for hours on a plane—trapped in that confined space, his warmth so close she could almost feel it—was another. Could she really keep her distance? Or was she about to make a big mistake?

Daegan came home to find his suitcase packed and ready to go. All he needed to add on were some files and the envelope from his study. He walked swiftly into his master suite and undressed, picking out something comfortable for the long flight.

After a quick snack, he climbed into the back of the Rolls-Royce he didn’t get to ride in enough. It made more sense to have a member of his staff drop them off.

As the car floated down Kinsley’s road like it was riding on air, Daegan couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be when he could finally bulldoze the eight houses. As soon as I get Kinsley to break. Sure, they were all beautiful homes, but beautiful old homes would not save the town. They would not bring in jobs and tourists. If it took a few months to get Kinsley to break, he would wait. Real estate was a game that often required patience.

“I’ll be right back,” Daegan said to Richard, the driver, as they pulled up next to Kinsley’s modest sedan. He closed the door carefully behind him.

Moments after Deagan knocked, Kinsley answered, looking out of breath. “I’m rather surprised you managed to get your exercising in before leaving,” Daegan remarked with a smirk.

“I don’t need your snarky comments,” she snapped. “I’ve been running around like crazy for an hour now! I just ran down here from upstairs and may have tripped over my suitcase in the process.”

“Impressive, though you shouldn’t have felt the need to rush. What was I going to do? Leave my favorite personal assistant behind?” he laughed, stepping into her home without invitation.

“I’m your only personal assistant,” she corrected him, still fighting to catch her breath.

“ Exactly. I could never make it without you, so how could I just leave you behind?” He shut the door, turning to face her. But Kinsley was already running up the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she hollered as she reached the top.

Daegan took the time alone to sweep over the foyer, admiring the warm wooden trim and beautifully preserved staircase. It stood as a testament to the care Kinsley’s grandmother had put into the house. He couldn’t help but admire its craftsmanship, the elegance of a bygone era. He could save it for her, perhaps. Gently remove the wood paneling and the newel posts as a parting gift to go to her next place of residence.

His eyes settled on an old photo in a gilded frame sitting on a shelf. A small vase with fresh flowers stood next to it. It was a family’s hospital photo, taken for the birth of a baby. He couldn’t be certain, but he had a good idea who they were. Kinsley’s grandmother stood next to the bed, beaming from ear to ear. A younger woman, likely Kinsley’s aunt, smiled next to her. On the opposite side of the bed stood a man, no doubt Kinsley’s father. On the bed was a woman in a hospital gown holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket—Kinsley’s mother and the child who would become the woman he knew today. They were overjoyed for this new life in their family, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that lay ahead.

Kinsley’s phone rang, shattering Daegan’s reverie. She’d left her personal phone on a small table near the door. He glared at the name flashing on the screen—Cameron, adorned with a green heart. He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing as unwelcome thoughts crept in. Could this be who Kinsley was with last weekend?

His lungs sank to his feet. For a few moments, it felt like he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Is that my phone?” Kinsley yelled from somewhere upstairs.

Daegan snapped back to the present. “Yeah, it’s Cameron. Do you want?—”

“Just…” She hesitated. “Just let it ring. But that reminded me to check for my charger.” He could hear her footsteps darting through the second floor as she hunted it down.

Daegan continued to glare at Kinsley’s phone until it stopped ringing. Jealousy washed over him again like a warm rain shower—sweat included. He needed to know what Kinsley’s relationship was to this man. Was Cameron an ex? A boyfriend? A lover? All of the above?

Why did it bother him so much? He had no claim on Kinsley—she was his assistant, nothing more. But the idea of someone else being close to her, of someone else having her attention, twisted something deep inside him that he couldn’t easily control.

And that terrified him.

“I told Cameron I’d call later,” Kinsley huffed as she lugged her suitcase down the stairs, an audible thud with each step. “How difficult is it to understand that I would call?” she complained as she reached the bottom.

“Some people don’t listen,” Daegan replied.

“You’re telling me,” she laughed, grabbing her phone. “And I’ve put up with it for over a decade, but I’m used to it at this point.” Her casual response only added to the tension in the air.

“A decade? That’s quite some time…”

“Since high school, so it’s been a while,” she chuckled, tossing her phone into her handbag.

Since high school. He had heard from Laurel that Kinsley had a relationship end at the beginning of the year. Yet it didn’t add up.

“Well, I think I have everything. I hope , anyway,” Kinsley muttered, glancing around aimlessly.

“It looks like you packed for a two-week trip. We’re only going to be gone until Sunday, Kins.” Daegan eyed her large suitcase.

“I didn’t really know what all I might need.” She slapped a hand on the luggage twice.

“Did you bring a book to read?”

Kinsley held up a small carry-on. “I might actually get it done during this trip.” Her gaze drifted to Daegan’s face, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “Sexy five o’clock shadow you have going on there.” She paused, her smile fading abruptly. “You know,” she fumbled for her words. “I just mean that sort of thing looks good on guys.”

Daegan paused like a deer in headlights. The compliment was unexpected, though he welcomed it more than he should. “Ah, that’s where you are wrong. This is the more evolved version.” He rubbed his stubble. “This is the seven o’clock shadow.”

Her fingers brushed his jaw, the contact so light it was almost imagined. But Daegan felt it—like a spark arcing from her skin to his. He froze, his breath catching as her touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Cheeks pink, she pulled back. Deagan had to clench his jaw to keep himself from leaning into her fleeting touch, soft and warm against his face. It left him speechless.

“Forget to shave before we left?” she recovered, but her words had lost their usual snap.

Yes.

“No. I figured waiting until tomorrow morning wouldn’t hurt.”

Kinsley’s eyes met his as she withdrew her hand. “You should keep it. A little stubble suits you well. It makes you look like you aren’t going to take any bullshit.”

Daegan smiled and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “Do you know what else suits me well? Being on time to the airport. I’ll take this out,” he said, opening the front door. “Oh,” he turned to look at her, “and I don’t have to look like I’m not going to take any bullshit. I just don’t take any bullshit.”

“I’ll lock up and be right out,” she called to him as he stepped out.

Sexy. The word echoed in his mind, a whispered taunt that refused to be ignored. This flight was going to be hell—hours trapped next to her, pretending her touch hadn’t sent his carefully ordered world into chaos.

If he shut the trunk a little harder than necessary, Kinsley didn’t comment on it.