“The trust does now,” he said.
“Isn’t that you?” she asked, as he offered her his hand again to cross the water to the other side. They made their way up an incline that wasn’t too steep.
“Dash and I provide oversight, but we don’t run it,” he said.
“Is it a charitable trust?” she asked. “I was surprised when we got the offer to fund the park restoration.”
“Were you?” he teased. “I was pretty sure if we didn’t act first, you’d be at the offices making a deal.”
She smiled at that. “I hadn’t thought of it, to be honest. But I have been busy trying to figure out how to break the curse.”
He shook his head. “The people in this town need to stop talking about that.”
She agreed; curses weren’t something that most people talked about. But she could see where they’d think that the Gilbert family and the town that had been named after them might be. “Seems your family had a string of bad luck.”
“Yeah,” he said.
That was it. He concentrated on the path which was muddy after the spring rains but soon he found whatever he was looking for and led her through some overgrown trees and bushes. He stopped, his broad back and shoulders all she could see, and it wasn’t a bad view.
Somehow riding behind him and being more in control of their touching had relaxed something inside her. And of course, Conrad just being so chill about everything, and him accepting her fears in a way she’d never been able to before had helped more than she’d expected.
From where they stood, she saw the flowers blooming in the manicured gardens near where they’d had their cook-off. The octagonal tower with its cupola was visible. It was hard for her to imagine what it had been like to grow up in a mansion.
“This is it. The best view in Gilbert Corners.”
She totally agreed, she thought, staring at the way his jeans hugged his butt and then moving her gaze up to the strength of his shoulders. Everything about Conrad was honed to perfection.
He stepped aside and held his hand out to her, drawing her forward to the edge. She caught her breath. Beyond the rolling green lawn of Gilbert Manor she saw the river snaking toward the town, and from here Gilbert Corners didn’t look cursed or run-down. The buildings with their Victorian turrets and spires looked picturesque.
“I guess you don’t hate everything about the town.”
He put his arm on her shoulder and leaned down close so that his head was level with hers. She glanced over at him.
“Tell anyone and I’ll deny it.”
She laughed. He sounded so surly and annoyed. And she knew that a part of him meant it.
“You dare laugh at the Beast?” he asked with a mock growl.
“If you were really a beast, I doubt I would be laughing, but the truth is, you aren’t. I think... I think you hated Lance Gilbert, not Gilbert Corners.”
“Still hate, not past tense,” he said.
“Why? He’s dead,” she said, trying to understand where Conrad was coming from. But then, she had only one person she felt anger and hatred toward, and it wasn’t a close family member. Would she have found it hard to let go of her anger as well?
“I never got to have it out with him. Never had my say as an adult. We fought the night of the accident. After I punched that punk—Declan Owen attacked Rory and I broke his nose—grandfather lit into me. I was so angry I went for him, but Dash pulled me away...and we left.”
She turned and put her hand on his thick biceps. Feeling this strength in him while hearing his vulnerability. She’d always believed that anger was just the prickly part of a person. The thorns they used to keep everyone at bay, and with Conrad it seemed especially true.
“Did he die before you’d recovered?” she asked carefully.
“Grandfather? No, just before I’d wised up and matured,” Conrad said.
“It’s hard to think of you as immature.”
“Lady, you should have seen me when I was good-looking. I was all ego and confidence. I mean, I thought the world revolved around me.”
“You are still good-looking,” she said.