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His eyebrows rise. “I think I can do whatever I want with my hotel.” He leans back on the seat and folds his arms over his chest, and for a moment, his jaw clenches.

“Sorry, but it’sourhotel, and I know I can’t tell you not to sell your share, but I’m hoping you will give me a chance to show you what this place could be. Jack and I had big plans for Buxton Estate. He’s gone, but we’re still here. We can still make his… Well, our dreams for this place come true. If you just give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove this place is too special to be sold off to some corporation who’ll just tear it down.” I can hear my French accent coming through thick. While I spent a lot of time in the States growing up and my English is great, whenever I get stressed or overwhelmed, it’s harder to maintain the control needed to sound less French. Not that I want to be less French. But when the accent is too thick, people have a hard time understanding what I’m trying to say.

He’s still frowning, but his lips have picked up in a quizzical kind of smirk.

“Have we met before?” he asks, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and linking his fingers together in front of him. “I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

I contemplate lying. Pretending that he wasn’t the first boy I ever crushed on. Pretending that I wasn’t that awkward foreign kid who would follow him around the estate every summer, just waiting for him to notice me. But I don’t.

“Umm, yeah, we used to spend summer here as kids. I think the last time was maybe ten years ago.”

He studies me, eyes moving from one feature to the next, and fuck if I can’t help it; when his gaze moves to my mouth, I lick my lips. He mirrors my action, and a slight blush rises to his cheeks as his eyes go wide.

“I remember. You’re the blond kid.”

Ouch. Okay, so he obviously made a bigger impact on me than I did on him.

“You used to visit your aunt. Your hair is still amazing.”

I feel my cheeks grow warm as my stomach flips at his compliment.

“Thanks. You look pretty much the same as I remember, too.”

“Wow, so you work here now?”

“Oui. This is where I fell in love with baking, so when Jack asked if I wanted to come on as his dessert chef, I made the move.”

“That cheesecake, by the way, is the best I’ve ever had. How did you get it to look like a flower?”

“Secrets of the kitchen. You’ll have to come watch me work one night while you are here.”

“Definitely. Oh, hey we used to do that, didn’t we?”

“What?”

“Sit in the kitchen while the other chef cooked. What was his name again?”

“Henry?”

“Yes, Henry. I remember we’d sit on stools watching, and then when he’d turn away, we’d try to sneak in a taste, right?”

I laugh. “Oui, yes, we did, many times. Jack used to do the same thing to me. I had to set out a cup of spoons just for him.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I remember that. I thought I’d forgotten this place entirely.”

“Well, it has been a while since you’ve been back. Why did you stop coming?”

“Mom and Uncle Jack had a fight about something, and we just stopped. She says she always planned to make up with him and come back here, but she never got to it, and now… well, now it’s too late.”

“She can always come back here.”

“She says she might, but I don’t know. With Jack gone, it will probably be too hard for her. The memories might just be too painful. I know I can’t go back to Savannah after…” He trails off, the lightness in him drifting away, and the frown returning. “Maybe we should just sell. I saw that a few of the other places around here have gotten a pretty good price.”

“I won’t be selling,” I say, standing from the booth. I can’t sit here and do this right now. I’m tired, and he’s tired, and it’s just better if we leave it for tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep, he’ll see reason. “You enjoy your evening. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing for breakfast at five. Chef Henry handles lunch and the first courses of dinner, so if you would like to talk more about the plans for Buxton Estate, we can maybe take a walk?”

“I don’t think you will be able to change my mind,” he says, tilting his head to look up at me. “I have no idea how to run a hotel.”

“I can guarantee you’ve got more of a chance learning how to run this estate than you do convincing me to sell. Sleep well, Mr. Buxton.”