The summer air was thick and heavy, dark clouds looming over the towering wings of the house. The grass was a little longer than I preferred to see it, and the bushes under the windows had grown stray sprigs as if they’d been neglected. In my absence, the groundskeepers would probably slack on their duties. Allie straightened her hair and pressed the wrinkles out of her pants suit as she stepped out of the car. She maintained her refusal to make eye contact. My stomach had seven thousand butterflies fighting for the same space, and her silence did nothing to help matters. Dalton made no rush as he sauntered toward the car to collect our bags. He leaned on the rear quarter panel and folded his arms. “It’s about time you got back. That personal assistant of yours is trying to make me wear a uniform. I’ll quit before I’m seen dead in a penguin suit.” Allie patted Dalton’s shoulder as she stared up at the house with determination.
