“Yeah. It was a breeze.” Except for the part where I missed my exit and nearly got run off the road.Atlanta Traffic 1 – Ava 0. I thrust the wine bottle into his hands. “I wasn’t sure if you liked beer or wine, so I guessed.”
“Thank you.” He glances down at the label. “This wasn’t necessary, but I certainly appreciate it.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I remain quiet. An awkward silence stretches between us.
After years of wondering where I got my mahogany curls, wide-set eyes, and straight nose, it should be comforting to see my physical traits in another person, but in truth, it’s disconcerting.
“I just fired up the grill,” he says, shifting his weight. “I hope you don’t mind eating outside.”
“Not at all. Mom and I ate outdoors all the time when I was growing up.” I grin. “Back porch dinners were kind of our thing.”
At the mention of my mother, he flinches almost imperceptibly. “How is Addie?”
“She’s doing well. She hasn’t come right out and said it, but I’m pretty sure she’s hoping I’ll hate Atlanta and move back home when my contract is up.”
He laughs politely. “Well, no offense to your mother, but I hope you fall in love with the city and decide to stay. At least for a while.”
The steel band around my chest tightens as I search for a neutral response.
Thankfully, I’m saved from responding when he starts down the hall.
I follow, admiring the hardwood floors and high ceilings that make my childhood home look like a hovel. Mom and I barely scraped by, both of us working our fingers to the bone to get me through school. I can’t even begin to imagine growing up amidst this kind of luxury.
Life would’ve been so much easier.
A kernel of resentment sprouts in my gut, but there’s no point dwelling on what might have been.
We emerge in a brightly lit kitchen with tall windows and top-of-the-line appliances. I’m not much of a cook, but even I can appreciate the clean lines and simple elegance.
“I’m going to dig up a corkscrew so we can open this bottle,” he says, holding up the wine. “You’re welcome to head out to the patio.”
Yes, please.
Fresh air and open space are exactly what I need to calm my nerves.
I let myself out through the French doors, and I know instantly that this will be nothing like the picnic-style dinners I shared with my mom.
The stone patio is the definition of luxury, with a built-in kitchen and bar, a covered lounge area complete with a TV, and a massive firepit surrounded by chunky Adirondack chairs. There’s even a pool with a cascading water feature, its quiet burble blending with the buzz of the cicadas.
“Wow.” I do a slow scan, taking it all in, and freeze when I realize I’m not alone.
My stomach drops.
The other guest stands at the far end of the expansive patio. His back is to me as he watches the sun set, but it makes no difference.
I’d know him anywhere. After all, he gave me two incredible orgasms last night.
Knox turns. When he spots me, he does a double take.
“Ava?” He crosses the patio in a few long strides, coming to stand mere inches from me. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.” There has to be a reasonable explanation. “Are you doing work for my father?”
What could possibly need repaired or remodeled is beyond me. The house looks brand new, but it’s the only reason that makes sense.
“Your father?” Knox’s jaw nearly hits the ground. He gapes at me, giving his best impression of a startled goldfish. “I’m sorry. I think I just hallucinated. Did you just say Adam Carlyle is your father?”
I nod.