You Were Meant For Me (Wishful 10) - Page 11

“Is she single?” Miss Betty prodded.

No, she’s damned well not. She’s mine. But no matter how he felt, that was no certainty. Either way, he wasn’t about to give voice to the notion in front of these two. “It didn’t come up at dinner.”

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Miss Delia tsked. “Falling down on your game, son. Time was you’d have had that detail inside five minutes of conversation.”

She wasn’t wrong, but Mitch had to repress a sigh. He knew he’d earned his reputation as a woman-loving flirt over most of his adult life, but it was starting to piss him off. Was it so hard to believe he could grow to want other things? And, okay, maybe it wasn’t so much growth as a sudden realization that with the right woman, the whole prospect of marriage and family felt like the best kind of adventure instead of a prison.

Not that it mattered. “She’s family now.” He needed to remember that.

Miss Betty waved a hand. “Pish posh. No blood ties there. Lord knows the dating pool in this town is shallow at any age.”

“Are you determined to pair off everybody who comes to town?”

“Well why not? Then Norah would have a whole new angle to play up for the tourists. We could be the Southern city of love.”

Amused despite himself, Mitch decided to throw Norah to the gossip wolves in granny’s clothes in hopes of getting the attention off him. “I’m sure she’d love to hear about that idea. You should let her know.”

“I just might do that.”

The two of them debated how to present it on the last block of their walk, and Mitch made all the appropriate encouraging noises. It kept them off his back and off the topic of his love life. Still, he was beyond grateful to spot Miss Delia’s big, white Cadillac.

“Here we are, ladies. Safe and sound.” Because he knew it would please them, he stooped to brush a kiss to each papery cheek. They giggled and patted his arms.

“You’re a good boy, Mitch Campbell.”

He waited until they were ensconced in the monster of a car and had safely backed out of the parking space before turning to cut across the green back to his own truck.

Disaster averted. For now.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d said. He and Tess weren’t family. Yeah, it was complicated. There were a whole lot of negative “if it doesn’t work out” scenarios that would end in an awkwardness that would impact everybody. But what if they did work out? What if everything they’d felt in Scotland—away from all the bullshit and pretense that usually took months to peel away in the course of normal dating—what if that was as real as it got?

He’d been desperate for more time with her and now, here she was. For one more week, at least. Mitch knew it wouldn’t be like their week abroad. They both had responsibilities and obligations that would keep them from spending every waking—and sleeping—minute together. But this was a chance to legitimately explore whether they could find a way to make their real worlds mesh. He’d be a fool to walk away from that.

Brimming with fresh purpose, Mitch shifted directions, heading straight for the fountain that was the town’s namesake. Fed from nearby Hope Springs, the post-Civil War fountain was at the center of Norah’s rural tourism campaign that had helped breathe new life into the town’s economy. She’d capitalized on local lore that wishes made in the fountain actually came true. Mitch had half-assed some wishes over the years. Maybe that was why they’d never come true. Because he didn’t put the full force of belief and desire behind them. Well, he had the desire now.

Digging a quarter out of his pocket, he clutched it tight, drawing up every iota of longing he’d felt from the moment he’d woken to find her gone. I wish for a real chance at a real relationship with Tess. The forever kind.

He tossed the coin, hearing the decisive splash as it hit the water. Knuckle tapping the top of the basin wall, he turned and headed home to plan.

Chapter 4

Tess woke at four in the morning feeling fluish and hung over. Jet lag on a return trip from Europe always kicked her ass but not usually this bad. Maybe she still had a touch of food poisoning. Or maybe she was just emotionally wrung out after family dinner and seeing Mitch again. She tried to drift back to sleep and into the lovely dream she’d been having about that rainy day they’d spent in a B and B in Inverness but recognized it as a lost cause. For better or worse, her body thought it was ten and well past time to get up.

Forcing herself out of bed, she pushed herself through some yoga. Half a dozen sun salutations later, she crawled into the shower. It was nearing five by the time she searched through the kitchenette for a kettle. Of course there wasn’t one. This was the U.S., where coffee ruled the day. Unable to face the pod coffee on her iffy stomach, and unwilling to suffer the indignities of pod tea—living in the UK had turned her into a tea snob—she called down to the front desk and requested boiling water. Room service didn’t actually open for an hour yet, but being the boss’s daughter had its perks.

While she waited, she pulled out her laptop to check on things for work. There were some final details to tend to on the Picadilly project, things she’d go over with her staff during their video conference later. After she got some caffeine in her system. Then she’d finish prepping the pitch to her father about the greater role she wanted to take in the company in Denver. It wasn’t that she wanted to run things in his absence, though she’d enjoyed getting her teeth into a real challenge. But she wanted Peyton Consolidated to expand in a new direction. To not just work at building their own business but to nurture others. With the resources at their disposal, they could usher in a new wave of small businesses that would help bolster economies all over the U.S. It was a dream she’d discussed with no one except Mitch, and even then only in the most general terms. She had to prove herself capable before she brought the concept up to her father, and the Picadilly project would go a long way toward that.

One step at a time.

At the knock on the door, Tess thanked God for prompt and attentive staff.

“I really appreciate...” She trailed off because it wasn’t room service at her door. “Mitch?”

“Thank God, you’re awake. Can I come in?”

Tess stepped back, staring as he walked past her. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” She couldn’t fathom why he’d show up at this ungodly hour if it wasn’t an emergency.

Tags: Kait Nolan Wishful Romance
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