“It was great. How was yours?”

He smirks. “Good. Run over any poor, unsuspecting golfers today?”

I giggle as I run my hand through my ponytail. “No, I save my specialized driving skills for you.” I look down. “How’s your foot?”

“Barely attached,” he replies dryly.

“I can cut it off if you like? Save you a hospital visit.”

He chuckles. “Scarily, I have no idea if you’re joking or not.”

We both laugh. Willow looks up, and he gives her a wave. She waves back.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” I say.

“I thought I’d make the effort.” His eyes hold mine and I smile. This has to do with my dig at him the other night.

“You go away on Wednesday, right?” I ask.

“Yes, first thing. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine.”

"Janine is going to do extra hours, too. She's there to help you at any time. She and her husband can come and stay at the house if you want them to."

“We’ll be fine,” I repeat. I point to the car with my thumb. “Emerson came with us tonight. She’s sitting in the car.”

He dips his head and smiles. He waves at her and she waves right back. “I should let you get back to her,” he says.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to sit on the other side of the field. I’ll see you at home?”

The air between us is buzzing like it’s electricity.

Where is this coming from?

“Sure.”

Our eyes linger a little too long on each other’s until I force myself to look away. “See you at home.”

I turn, walk back to the car, hop in and slam the door. My heart is beating in my chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emerson snaps.

“What?”

“You flirt with each other?”

“No. What do you mean?”

“He just checked out your ass as you walked away.”

My eyes widen, my excitement soaring. “Really?”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s fucking old, Brell.”

I smile as I watch him walk across the fields away from us.

“He’s not that old. He’s thirty-nine.”

“That’s old”

“You do have to admit, he is pretty hot for an old guy.” I smile.

She smirks as she watches him. “I suppose in an old, rich guy kind of way… he is.”

I’m sitting at the table and helping Willow with her homework. She has an assignment due tomorrow and is freaking out.

Mr. Masters is in his office. I can hear him on the phone talking to someone. He’s been on and off his phone all night.

“I need my compass.” Willow sighs.

“Where is it?”

“In my desk drawer.”

“I’ll get it.” I walk out to the foyer and take the bottom step. I can hear Mr. Masters speaking on the phone.

“They are about to go up,” he says.

He listens for a moment.

“Buy five-hundred now.”

I stop on the second step so I can eavesdrop He listens for a moment. “I’m considering putting a million on.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

“Okay, yes.” He pauses. “I’ll transfer five-hundred-thousand now. It’s a sure thing. I’ll double it in a month.”

Holy shit!

Mr. Masters plays the stock market. That’s where this money comes from.

I trudge up the stairs, feeling very incompetent indeed.

It takes money to make money.

Hence why I have none.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KNOCK, knock.

I glance up. “Come in.”

Mr. Masters puts his head around the door. "Nightcap, Bree?"

I smile. Bree. He called me Bree.

“Erm.” I scratch my head, glance back at my book, and then back at him. God, I’m at a really good part of my book and they are just about to get it on.

“If you would rather read your book, don’t worry about it,” he snaps quietly.

“Look at you, getting all annoyed.” I smile. “I’m not annoyed.” I hold my fingers up and pinch the air. “Little bit?”

He looks at me, deadpan. "Nightcap or not?"

“Yes. That would be lovely, thanks.” He turns and walks back to the kitchen and I follow him. My stomach does a nervous jitterbug dance as I take a seat at the kitchen counter.

He pours us a glass of red wine each, handing me mine.

We clink glasses and I smile. “I can’t stay long. One glass only.”

He raises a brow. “Are you brushing me off for your book?”

“Completely. Don’t be offended. I would brush Superman off for this book.”

He smiles and takes a seat opposite me. We sit in silence for a moment, neither of us sure what to say.

“Where are you going on your trip tomorrow?” I ask.

“Kent.”

“Ah.” I sip my wine, and then eye it in the crystal glass. “Hmm, this is delicious.” “I have good taste.”

“Obviously.” I wink. “You hired me.”

“Sight unseen.” He smirks.

I giggle. “Kent is where Dover Castle is.”

“Yes. Have you been?” he asks, seeming surprised that I know this.

“No, but I want to. It’s on my to do list while I’m here. Its history fascinates me.”

“Why is that?”

“The Archbishop was slaughtered there in front of his altar by King Henry’s Household Knights.”

A frown crosses his face. “History buff, are you?”

I smile. “Perhaps. It was one of the reasons that Emerson and I wanted to come here. We love old buildings and history. We don’t have anything like that in Australia. Australia has only been a country for three-hundred or so years. The only old thing we have a lot of back home are tombstones.”

He sips his drink and licks the red wine from his bottom lip.

“There are lots of old things in the United Kingdom.” He raises his eyebrow suggestively as if to imply that he is one of those old things.

He’s just so…

“Do you travel much for work?” I ask as I try and remain casual.

No drooling at the table, fool.

“Not really.” He sips his wine. “I’m guest speaking at a conference.”

“Wow.” I smile. “Impressive.”

He smiles shyly and drops his head. “Hardly. I’m speaking on the effects of prison on drug addicts.

“Oh, that sounds heavy.”

He nods. “Could say that.”

We stay silent for a moment as the air buzzes between us, and if I’m not mistaken, he seems a little nervous too… or maybe that’s just because I’m nervous enough for the both of us.

“What have you got on this weekend? Anything fun?” I ask.

He exhales. “No. Not yet. You?”

“I’m going out with Emerson on Saturday night.” I sip my wine and lift my glass to him. “And you needn’t worry, I won’t be coming back here to embarrass myself again.”

He rolls his eyes. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Because it’s beyond mortifying. I’m having it put on my tombstone.” I put my hand up in a rainbow shape. “Here lies Brielle, champion refrigerator humper.”

He chuckles, and I close my eyes, faking a shiver.

“Are you going out with your Canadian friend again?” he asks, suddenly falling serious.