Page 36 of Unpacking Secrets

Without the bruise on my knee showing, I looked halfway decent.

As I rewrapped my wrist, though, I debated if there was anything I could do with my hair to disguise the bandages above my eyebrow. The sound of tires along the gravel drive interrupted my pondering, so I quickly clipped back the sides and left the rest loose to air dry.

I grabbed my purse and opened the door just as Henry strolled up the path. He’d changed into a black vintage band tee and, to my annoyance, he looked as handsome as ever. Blue rushed over to sit at my feet before I could study him further.

When the dog had gotten enough petting to satisfy her, I straightened. The expression on Henry's face wavered between shock and appreciation.

“What?” I asked.

I glanced down at my arms to be sure I hadn’t inadvertently revealed some hideous wound, but most of the scratches had already faded to faint pink lines that dodged between my freckles. When I looked back at him, Henry shook his head slightly.

“Nothing, I just like your hair like this, all curly,” he said. “You wore it this way the morning you came to the inn for breakfast, but things devolved before I could appreciate it. It suits you.”

My eyes widened in surprise and he flashed that devastating grin. Despite the blush I knew was rising rapidly toward my face, I arched a brow.

“What, a little bit wild?” I joked.

His expression didn’t change, so I rolled my eyes, ignoring the swift rush of pleasure the compliment invoked.

“Now, cut it out and let’s get this show on the road.”

He gave a dramatic bow and let his gaze sweep over the rest of me as we walked toward the truck. When he offered his arm, I shot him a dirty look, so he dropped it back to his side, smirking. I tried to ignore his proximity, but it was nearly impossible—every step was accompanied by his warm presence, looping around my body in the most tempting invitation.

“You’re only limping a little. That’s progress.”

I snorted. Little did he know that I was only managing to not limp by walking at a snail’s pace; I was determined not to stumble in front of him. The smile on his face didn’t falter as he matched my slow trudge without looking annoyed or sarcastic. Blue was rolling ecstatically in the grass by the wildflowers but came galloping to the truck to jump in as soon as Henry opened the passenger door.

“She makes a good chaperone,” I said without thinking.

My cheeks flushed even hotter when I realized I’d just implied this was a date. Henry simply closed the door after me and grinned through the open window, unfazed.

“She can ride in the back if you want to be closer to me. Just say the word, Red.”

“You’re hilarious.”

That unruffled calm of his didn’t break at all when I narrowed my eyes at him. His hand rested casually on the door and I forced myself to shut down the memory of his fingers against my back last night, even as the sight of his bronzed skin caused an expected flare of desire in my midsection.

Maybe I should have let Libby run more tests—my brain felt jumbled, my thoughts scattered. Would it be better or worse to blame a concussion rather than Henry’s proximity?

One dark brow lifted ever so slightly as he watched me. I was sure he’d seen my reaction as clear as day, but he said no more, just smiled a little when he pushed away from my door to stride around to the driver’s side. He winked at me over Blue’s shaggy head as he started the engine and I turned my face to the window to hide my burning cheeks.

We drove the same route I'd taken to Cooper’s Point, passing it and continuing onto a stretch of road I had yet to travel. I leaned my head back against the seat, enjoying the fresh spring breeze and absorbing the things Henry pointed out along the way.

When we passed a property with giant stone pillars and a wrought-iron gate, I said, “What’s that, a castle?”

He laughed. “Might as well be. That’s the Willoughby Mansion. Hot-shot defense attorney who doesn’t appreciate trespassers, so try not to go tumbling onto the property.”

“Ha. I’m hoping not to tumble anywhere ever again.”

Interspersed among notable geographical landmarks and the area’s history were stories about his family and childhood here. From the appreciation clear in his tone, a brief twinge of guilt struck me for thinking he probably took all of this for granted. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Henry was a natural storyteller. His deep voice was at once rich and soothing, animated and vibrant. I could happily listen to him all day.

Blue’s tail had been thudding against my leg for the better part of the drive, but when the road angled left, it doubled in speed. We pulled past a stand of trees and suddenly the lake sprawled before us in all its glory.

“Oh,” I breathed, earning a warm smile from my human companion and a frantic wiggle from the canine.

This had to be the beach I’d read about before coming to Spruce Hill. It wasn’t a long stretch of coastline, made up of more rocks than sand, but it was secluded and breathtakingly beautiful.

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