I scowled at him and started for the stairs before I got overly annoyed with the man. He had a way of making me feel like I was twelve again. And he had a way of making me question myself with his insolent, "Yes, sir, no sirs." I'd fire him one of these days. Without severance.
I ate dinner alone, wondering when Kira would return. I hadn't asked her anything about her trip. I didn't want to set a precedent that we would ask about each other's whereabouts or actions. I certainly didn't want her thinking she could do that with me, and I had no desire to do it with her. Still . . . if she'd changed her mind . . . I'd rather know now than have to wait for her to call me at some point this week after not showing up.
Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and used the cell number I'd only used the one time before when I'd visited her at her hotel room. I debated what to say in my text. I didn't want to leave her with the impression I was checking in with her.
Me: Should I have Charlotte keep a plate warmed for you?
A few minutes later, my phone beeped.
Kira: That's thoughtful, but no, thank you.
I scowled. Was she dense?
Me: I'll have Charlotte set a place at breakfast for you then.
Kira: No, that won't be necessary either. Thank you.
I growled at the phone, punching at the small letters on the keyboard.
Me: Goddamn it Kira, are you coming back or not?
Several minutes ticked by, a strange panic rising in my throat.
Kira: Yes, I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. Miss me?
I exhaled.
Me: No. Goodnight.
Little witch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kira
Hawthorn Vineyard was suffused with dappled, late afternoon sun when I drove through the gates a little after four o'clock. I'd spent the weekend with Kimberly, filling her in on everything that had taken place with Grayson Hawthorn since I'd last spoken to her. At first she refused to speak to me, and then she ranted and raved for fifteen minutes—breaking into frequent bouts of Spanish—while I sat before her on the couch with my arms crossed like a child being disciplined. She'd brought up at least twenty examples of Very Bad Ideas that had ended terribly. When she'd finally calmed down enough to discuss the matter with me, though, and when she realized I wasn't going to back down, she'd taken me in her arms and offered me her support. That was generally the way of things with Kimberly. I knew enough to wait her out. And she knew enough to know that once I'd committed to a Very Bad Idea, it was unlikely I'd change my mind. Still, I knew that ranting at me made her feel like she'd done her duty, so I took it in stride. At its core, it was filled with love. I had missed her so much while I was away. She had always been a balm to my soul, the one who kept me sane.
I'd also made a quick visit to the drop-in center where I'd spent so many hours. I assured them I had a large donation coming their way, one that would allow them to make it through the next six months until one of their larger grants kicked in.
I had wished I could stay a little longer visiting with the people there I'd grown to love and hadn't seen in so long, but I assured them (and myself) I'd be back very soon.