Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(24)

“Aw, that’s nice. She just wants people to be happy.”

“You can be happy without a serious relationship,” Hutton said, a tad defensively.

“True.” I took another sip of wine and thought I heard thunder rumbling in the distance. “Unless you’re lonely, or you really want a family.”

“I’m never lonely,” he said.

“What about a family?” I asked. “Do you ever think about getting married? Having kids?”

Hutton set an ankle on the opposite knee. “Not really. I don’t know if I’d make a good dad.”

Surprised, I shifted to face him, my knees bumping up against his thigh. I rested my elbow along the back of the couch and propped my head in my hand. “What makes you say that? You’re great with your nieces and nephew.”

“Yeah, but being an uncle is different. It’s less pressure. You can just have fun with them. You’re not really responsible for their upbringing.” He paused. “I don’t know if I’d have the temperament to be a good dad. I get really irritated and impatient sometimes. I can be irrational and stubborn. My brother-in-law, Neil, is so easygoing and relaxed.”

“All different kinds of people can be great dads. My dad was stubborn too. He definitely got irritated. And he had such a foul mouth, the swear jaw would be overflowing by the end of the week.” I laughed at the memory of his stuffing dollar bills into it after a lengthy rant that included several F bombs. “He wasn’t perfect. But he was an awesome dad.”

Hutton set his wine glass on the table, then folded his arms. “What about you? Do you want kids?”

“I do, but I need to figure some stuff out first.”

“What kind of stuff?”

I lifted my shoulders. “How to be in a healthy relationship.”

He laughed shortly. “I’ve got no advice on that front. I’d be an even shittier husband than father.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Experience.”

“Oh yeah?” I nudged his leg. “Is there a wife you’re hiding somewhere? As your fake fiancée, I should know this.”

He gave me a sideways grin. “No, I’ve never been married. But I’ve tried to have relationships, and I suck at them. I have literally been told that I suck at them.”

“That’s not nice.”

He shrugged. “It’s honest.”

“I guess I’d value kindness over honesty in that situation.”

“Didn’t matter. And I didn’t even really care.”

I looked at what was left of my wine and swirled it around. “Are we talking about Zlatka?”

“She’s the one who told me I sucked most recently, but she’s not the only one who felt that way—and I never blamed them. No one wants to date a recluse who hates going places.”

“That’s all it was? You never liked going out?”

“That was a lot of it. But there were other problems too. I’m not good at talking about things. I’m better at—never mind.” He leaned forward and picked up his wine again. Finished it in one long swallow.

“What?” I nudged him again. “Tell me.”

“I’m better at the physical stuff than the emotional stuff.”

My core muscles contracted, and I dropped my eyes to my lap. “You mean sex stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s important too,” I said, wondering exactly what he was good at and whether it was wrong of me to want to find out. “Good physical chemistry with someone.”

He set his empty glass back on the table. “Actually, I don’t even think Zlatka and I were that compatible when it came to sex.”

“Why not?”

“Certain things I liked, she didn’t.”

I took a breath for courage. “Such as?”

He paused. “Let’s just say that Zlatka does not like being told what to do or not do, and I enjoy that kind of control.”

I poured the rest of my wine down my throat.

“But there were other problems. She constantly accused me of avoiding any situation or conversation I didn’t want to be in, and she was right. I do avoid those. Eventually, our relationship fell into that category.”

“You don’t miss her?”

“Fuck no. She was exhausting. And I’ve never missed anyone.” He met my eyes. “I mean, except for you. There have been many times in my life when I’ve missed you.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Our lips were not that far apart, and I was not chewing gum this time. If I leaned toward him a little, would he—

Lightning flashed above the trees behind him, the sound cracking like a rifle shot a second later. “Oh!”

He put a hand on my leg as the rumble of thunder followed. “You okay?”

“Yes. Sorry.” A little sheepish, I lifted my shoulders. “Storms still make me jumpy.”

“Let’s go in.” Hutton stood up, grabbing our empty wine glasses from the table. “I’ll show you the guest rooms, and you can take your pick.”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay?” I followed him into the house.