Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(62)

Linnea reached out and accepted the gorgeous white roses. She brought them close to her face. “They smell lovely.”

“That’s one for my side.”

She released a slow smile and carefully brought the flowers close to Hope’s nose. “What do you think, baby? Do they smell good? Should I forgive him?” She leaned lower and showed Hope how to sniff. Hope tried to mimic her, blowing air out of her nose. Linnea laughed.

She tilted her head, then with a slight smile stepped aside. “Do you want to come in?”

Darby walked past her, arms tight at his sides. She was sorry to see him feeling awkward around her. It wasn’t right for people who’d been best friends since childhood. He followed her through the foyer and the living room, which was currently covered with toys. Darby lived in one of the great historic houses of Charleston. And, like so many Charleston families, the Middletons had a quaint, fairly rustic beach house on Sullivan’s Island. His beach house had been built in the same era as this one. Darby would notice that the floor was antique heart pine, the mantel was original, what artists were collected.

Linnea set Hope down among her toys, then headed toward the kitchen to find a vase for the roses. “You were a rat, you know,” she said over her shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know how many times he’d have to apologize before she really forgave him.

“How did you know where I was?” she asked, adding water to the vase.

“Your mother told me.”

Of course, Linnea thought. Her mother would’ve been only too happy to tell Darby Middleton where to find her daughter. Linnea was surprised she hadn’t sent out an all-points bulletin. Made him a map with little hearts pointing the way.

“Uh-huh,” was all she said.

“In her defense, I showed up at your house and begged her to tell me. She was hesitant until I told her I needed to beg for forgiveness.”

Linnea knew he could be quite persuasive. She placed the roses in the vase. “And so you have. Apology accepted.”

Darby, instantly more relaxed, leaned against the marble counter in the galley kitchen and crossed his arms against his chest. “I haven’t been here in years. Not since high school. Nothing’s changed.”

“That’s part of its charm. The sunroom is new,” Linnea said, setting the flowers on the table in the living room. Darby followed her. “Cara freshened up the house with paint, new fabric. But other than that . . .”

“So, you’re babysitting now?”

“Actually, I’m a nanny.”

“Oh. Right.”

She didn’t like his tone. “Did you know Princess Diana was a nanny?”

“Sounds like a romance novel. The Princess Nanny.”

“She wasn’t a princess when she was a nanny, silly,” she said. “She was eighteen and a part-time nanny for five dollars an hour.”

He snorted. “That much?”

“And you?” she asked. “What are you up to this summer?”

“I’m interning at my father’s law office.”

“Oh yes,” she said, remembering their earlier conversation. His father was a U.S. senator and a senior partner in his family’s influential Charleston law firm. “You start law school in the fall.” She thought of her brother spending the summer working in their father’s business. “Do you want to be a lawyer?” she asked him. “Or do you feel you have to be a lawyer?”

Darby smiled, understanding the question all too well. “In college, I felt squeezed into the decision. My father can be very insistent.”

“Yes, I can imagine the orations at dinner.”

“And my mother. She likes living in Washington, DC. But now . . . yeah,” he said with heart. “I want to go to law school. I want to go into politics. There’s a lot I feel I need to do. This country is going to hell in a handbasket.”

Linnea looked at Darby, tall and handsome, even elegant. He’d do very well for himself. His future was glittering with possibilities. It was no wonder her mother wanted her linked with this rising star. Linnea wondered about his politics. If they were like his father’s, he’d be conservative.

“You’ll only get my vote if you defend the environment,” she said. “Your father, bless his heart, hasn’t voted on the right side of the aisle there.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to defend the senator. “Darby, we’re the ones who will be living in the mess climate change is creating. And our children. We need strong men like you in politics. Someone who will stand up and protect our environment. I’m just saying I hope that’s you.”

“I’m not a senator yet,” Darby said, dodging the subject. He drew closer. “I didn’t come here to talk politics. Let’s save that for dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes. I’d like to take you to dinner. How about tonight? Let’s go to the Boathouse.”

Linnea gazed at Darby, and despite his good looks and stunning future, she felt nothing, no spark or interest, just bored. He’d always been narcissistic. She’d just been too infatuated with him to see it. He’d tell her where they were going, and she’d follow along. She couldn’t remember him ever asking what she wanted to do. When she went to USC, he’d stopped calling. It had hurt her deeply. Out of sight, out of mind. And here he was again, knocking on her door, telling her where she was going. Except, Linnea didn’t want to go where he was going. She was mapping out her own direction. She might not be sure where she would end up, but she was sure it wasn’t with him.