Page 24 of Silent Heart

Warmth spread through me. It was strange to have someone genuinely want to know. My answer to his question started slowly enough, but when I found only encouragement in his brief responses and steady gaze, I loosened my hold. The plans and dreams became animated as they poured out to a sympathetic listener.

“So while I want animals, it would be more of a sanctuary than a farm,” I trailed off as the food arrived.

That was the longest I’d talked on the subject.

Kole spoke so low, I almost didn’t catch what he said. “It’s nice to have cousins to take over the family business.”

I blinked rapidly, unsure if he was talking about me or…someone else. When he didn’t elaborate, I carved into my French toast.

“Dig in.” I smiled.

Kole nodded, looking at the rack of syrups Gemma dropped off.

“It’s not real maple syrup,” I confided. “That’s why I just eat mine with extra butter. Their French toast is tasty enough it doesn’t need it, though.”

“I’ve never had French toast.”

My jaw dropped. Thankfully, there wasn’t food in my mouth. “How is that possible? I would have thought you’d eaten it every time you went to France, sitting in one of those bougie restaurants with a view of the Eiffel Tower.”

“The three times I’ve been to Paris, I haven’t been to the Tower.” Kole popped a bite of pancake into his mouth.

“But you have been to Paris?” I nudged. Finally! We were talking about him.

“Yes.”

I waved my hand for him to elaborate. “What did you see? What was your favorite thing to eat and drink? Did yougo dancing with a pretty little coquette or were you there shmoozing with a group of models?”

“It was a business trip.”

“All work and no play?” I pouted. “Tell me you did not go to the most romantic city on earth just to sit in an office.”

“Not an office.” Something dark flashed in his eyes. “This is a good cake. But I think I’ll try the fake syrup.”

I leaned forward.Come on, give me something. “What do you do for work?”

He looked up at me from under his brows. The lid slid over the syrup container, cutting off the flow. “I’m part of a project management division. Chief risk mitigation officer.”

“In normal people speak that means…?”

“I eliminate risks before they become problems,” Kole said smoothly.

With a huff, I sat back and focused on my food. It was clear he didn’t want to tell me details. And a little part of me, the part that urged me I was a farmer’s daughter and wasn’t able to know any better, said I wouldn’t understand the complex nuances of the corporate work if I tried.

“Over a year ago, I went solo on a personal project,” Kole offered.

Looking up and meeting his gaze, I saw something turbulent. Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell me, but he couldn’t. And not because I wouldn’t understand.

“You work for yourself?” I asked, hoping my theory was right.

He nodded. “I do.”

Grateful for the genuine response, I tried again. “So even working for yourself, you can come to the lake for a few days?”

“A short-term sabbatical.”

It’s temporary.But the feeling in my chest, the one that glowed when we talked, begged me to keep trying.

By the time we paid and left, I couldn’t tell if it was a date or something more. I would spend all day at work sorting through the pros and cons of doing it again. The bright, enticing scent had me stopping by the overgrown bush that leaned against the diner. I leaned forward to drink in the lilacs.

---