"What way do you want?" she asked.
"I want to keep going. I want you in my bed. I want you in my life. Does that scare you?"
She licked her lips, then nodded.
"I'm sorry about that. But I don't think you're the kind of woman who runs from scary things."
A laugh bubbled out of her. "Oh, I think I do. Scary emotional things, anyway." She drew a breath, then cupped his cheek. "But I don't want to run from you."
"What do you want? Leaving aside selling the distillery, what is it you want to do?"
She cocked her head, considering the question. "I want to travel. See the world. I like exploring. I want to learn to paint. To read Greek. And I'd like to watch operas and Bollywood movies. I want to stomp grapes in France. And I don't want to wake up one day and realize I've lived my life with my nose in a balance sheet."
"And you don't think you can do all that and keep your distillery?"
She shrugged. "Certainly easier without."
"A lot of things are easy without. But it's lonelier, too."
Her mother's words seemed to echo in her head.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Once again, she laughed. "I thought you were."
He smirked. "How the hell did you break into my house?"
"Oh." The lightness evaporated. "Before the Herringtons adopted me and Matthew, we were in the system. I told you that, right? Well, before our birthmother abandoned us at the mall, she pretty much abandoned us at home. And we wouldn't have food for days and days."
"My God." The horror in his voice was clear.
"Yeah. It wasn't fun. But it was what it was. And so Matthew and I stole what we needed."
She spoke matter-of-factly, but when he took her hands in his, she knew he heard the pain underneath.
"He was never very good at security systems, but I could always manage to get around them. Honestly, I hadn't tested my skill in a long time. Yours was tricky, but doable."
"Hmm. I'll get it upgraded." He paused, then, "Selma, I--"
She pressed her finger to her lips. "Don't even say it. No regrets. I've moved on."
"Have you?"
She turned away.
He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her head back to face him. "I don't like that you're moving to Scotland." His words made butterflies dance in her stomach. She'd told him her entire plan, of course, but so far they hadn't talked about it. "And I'm jealous as shit of this guy. Sean O'Reilly. Sounds like a bad guy in a Tom Clancy movie. You should steer clear."
She laughed, suddenly happier than she could remember being in a long time. Which made no sense. Except, of course, that it made all the sense in the world. "It's okay. He's engaged."
Easton's eyes narrowed. "All right then. Maybe he's okay." He sighed. "I don't know anymore."
"If he's okay?" She'd gotten confused along the way.
"What we're doing," he clarified. "Somewhere, I lost track of what we're doing."
"That's all right." She kissed him slow and deep. "We'll figure it out together."
Chapter Twelve