The wind is blowing Daley’s hair around, matching the energy that swirls about her. She’s wearing a teal cape and a knitted hat that could have come from the streets of Paris, and it’s almost as if the wind is dancing attendance.
I step in and kiss her cheek. “Good morning.”
She smiles, and she means it, but I can see her uncertainty underneath. Which is good—it means she hasn’t tucked it away. I slide my arm in under her cape and lead her away from the building, in the direction of the trees. “You’ve come. Thank you.”
A quiet sigh, one that settles her. “I wanted to see you.”
That settles something in me. “I’m glad of it. I thought of you often in the night.”
Her laugh bubbles out, a little surprised to find itself in the light of day. “That could be taken a lot of ways.”
I shrug and smile. “Most of them are likely true.”
That doesn’t dim her eyes any. Whatever it is about me that has her worried, it’s not the delicious sexual tension that runs between us. We pause by the trees, and she lets her head rest on my shoulder. “I came to invite you on a hike. It’s a short one, not far from here. Up to a lighthouse.”
I look down at her feet, clad in hiking boots that have clearly seen frequent action. “I’ve some boots that would work back where I’m staying. And more layers as well.” I’ve already learned that Canadian winters have much in common with Irish ones. It’s best to leave home dressed for all possibilities.
She nods, her head still against my shoulder. “We can drive past. And find you some breakfast if you need before we go.”
She’s a caretaker, this one. “I’ve already eaten and fed my friends as well. Will you tell me why we’re hiking today?”
She slides out of my arms and takes my hand in hers, tugging gently so that I follow. “I want to learn more about you.”
A woman on a mission, but not one I’m entirely clear on—and keeping promises requires those kinds of details. “Have you rules in mind for our walk today?”
“Yes.” She grins at me. “Some of them are dictated by the weather. I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep your hands out of my pants.”
She’s not giving my ingenuity nearly enough credit. “Don’t rely on the weather to keep you safe, sweetness. If you want my hands to stay outside of your clothing, those are words I can hear with ease.”
She shoots me a skeptical look.
I wink at her. “I’ve plenty of other arrows in my arsenal.”
She rolls her eyes, entirely amused by the Irish charm she’s pulled out of me.
I squeeze her fingers. “I’ve a mind to speak very honestly today, and some of what I have to say might be fair arousing. Will that fit inside your ideas of the day you want?”
This look is a lot more careful.
I let her look. “Same promise as yesterday. We’ll both be saying some things, I expect, words of the body and mind and heart, and if they don’t fit comfortably together, I won’t let either of us brush that to the side.”
She makes a face as she turns us down the road toward her car, parked on the shoulder. “You were really good at that yesterday.”
That warms something inside me. “You allowed me to go deep with you. There’s a trust I want to earn so we can keep doing that.”
She nods slowly. “The trust. That’s more important to you than being comfortable.”
I touch my fingers to her cheek. “Truth is more important. Trust is just a way to get to truth with someone else.”
She stares at me.
It’s so very tempting to drag her off to the nearest bed, but I want to see this hike of hers. She’s shown up this morning to bring me something, to shade more of the lines in the drawing of who she is, even if she’s using hiking boots instead of charcoals to do it. I walk her round to the driver’s-side door. “I’m looking forward to this hike. I’ve a fondness for lighthouses, although I didn’t expect to find one this far inland.”
Her eyes snap with a kind of dare as she ducks into her car.
Good. One artist with her eraser firmly in hand.