She tried to think of the best approach. “All right then. Pop quiz. Shakespeare was…?” she prompted.
“An evil genius,” he finished.
“Writing papers?”
“An acute form of torture, though necessary for success in documentation, business plans and many other important ventures.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Writing them is torture? Try grading them.”
Adrian laughed. “You win that one. Do you really read all those?”
“Every one. In fact, I brought a stack with me that needs to be done before I head back.”
“Ugh, you’re right. That is torturous.”
“Actually, I enjoy it. I help those who are struggling the best that I can, and I am amazed by their creativity.” She stared at the watch on his wrist. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you liked English classes. I think you hated eleventh grade for the same reason you wanted to leave home.” It was a shot in the dark, but after last night, after seeing how his mother pried into his life, after his recent admission about things being rocky with his late father, she suspected being here was hard for him because he couldn’t be himself.
It was the same way she often felt. Judged at every turn. High school had a tendency to do that to a person, make them feel less than enough, no matter how good at something they were. She couldn’t imagine anyone finding Adrian Bear not good enough.
Adrian’s face twitched just enough to show he was impressed. “You win.”
“Of course I do. What do I win, exactly?”
Mrs. Bear’s car pulled into the gravel lot. Goldie was surprised at the tension the sight instantly coiled inside of her.
“How about dinner?” Adrian suggested.
Her mouth hung open. As fake boyfriend and girlfriend or for real? She wanted to ask.
Mrs. Bear exited the vehicle and gave them a friendly wave, answering her internal question. A notion sank into Goldie’s chest. It was probably all part of the show, to convince her he was over Danica. Nothing more.
If they went back into town, that would give her another opportunity to stop by her aunt’s house. She could also bring her bag with her and check into a hotel then, although her bank account shouted at her from here. She didn’t have a hundred dollars a day to spend on a room.
This trip was definitely not turning out how she’d planned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ADRIAN STOOD AT THE BASE of the steps inside the main house and watched until Goldie’s door closed. Their conversation on the porch played on “repeat” in his mind. He couldn’t believe how perceptive she was, or how being around her had liquefied his defenses. When was the last time he’d felt so comfortable around a woman, so willing to bare his soul and skeletons in one fell swoop?
She’d been so calm, so collected as he’d spoken about his life in Chicago, as she’d inquired about his father. Talking about his dad usually opened up old wounds, and that was something Adrian definitely didn’t want to revisit. Much like his desire to avoid the cabin and its memories, speaking of his dad had the same effect on him. Yet, he found part of himself eager to tell Goldie everything. He had the suspicion confiding in her would help somehow.
He’d loved standing on the porch and chatting with her, holding hands and drinking Cokes. In the moment, it had seemed exactly as Goldie apparently saw this place. Magical, charismatic and enchanting. Maybe it had more to do with the company than anything else.
Adrian made his way back to the kitchen to deposit his empty Coke bottle into the recycle bin. The sound of a door opening stole his attention, and his mom bustled out from what used to be the mudroom, just off the kitchen, where he and his brothers would kick off their shoes and boots after a long day of mucking out stables or riding horses. Now, it’d been converted into a laundry facility, with several machines at the guests’ convenience.
“Hey, Mom,” Adrian greeted.
“Danica is coming over later,” she said without any other preliminaries.
Adrian withheld a groan. “I’m with Goldie, Mom. She and I have plans tonight.”
While the living facility had been expanded and filled with smaller, round tables for guests to enjoy their meals in quietude, the family’s old, long dining table was still in its place behind the line of stools at the bar. His mother set her box down on the table and gave him a syrupy smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I just don’t see it. You and her.”
“What about us don’t you see?” he asked, stepping closer.
She opened the box and began rifling through the tablecloths and linens within. “Why haven’t you told me about her before now?”
Adrian folded his arms. He wasn’t about to go into this, not when he felt like both he and Goldie had already given his mom decent answers to the same question. “Did you tell Danica about Dad’s lockbox?”
Mrs. Bear snapped down the box’s cardboard flaps and gaped at him. “Why would I do that?”
The dismay on her face seemed sincere, but it was sudden enough to make him question it.
“Are you sure you don’t know where it is? I get the feeling I’m being manipulated.” If similar situations hadn’t happened in the past, he wouldn’t buy it so easily, but his mom had always been one to twist her way around him and get him to do what she wanted.
Mrs. Bear sniffed and opened the box again, directing her attention at tablecloths she’d just disregarded. Adrian stepped forward and placed a hand on hers.
That did the trick. His mom lifted her eyes to meet his. Her expression was wiped clear of anything but irritation.
“Mom, I know you want
