Page 72 of Van Cort

She takes the coffee from the table and heads to the French doors, sighing. “I couldn’t daydream if I tried. My head is far too thick from last night’s alcohol. Remind me not to mix my drinks like that again. Yours too, presumably, considering you don’t drink that much.” I shouldn’t be drinking at all. “How old was that whiskey? I swear it had cobwebs on the bottle.”

“It was a forty-five-year-old malt. My father’s pride and joy. Come here.” She turns, sipping her drink, and walks back to me. My hand reaches for her and gently pulls her into my lap. “Look at the view and forget the whiskey.” She gets herself comfortable, nuzzling into my side. “It’s easy to daydream here. If you just gaze at what is rather than what was, I’m sure you could spend a lifetime doing it.”

We sit like that for a while, just staring, whilst I twine the length of her hair in my fingers. “Are you ever going to tell me your real name?” She stiffens a little.

“What?”

“Considering this open communication and honesty we’re sharing, I’d expect you to offer the same in return.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I have to pay for you whilst you’re here working for me. Contract.”

“Ah.” She leans back and looks at me, a slight smile on her face as she wanders her fingers under my robe. “I guess that makes me a high-class hooker. What can I do for you?” The coolness of her palm presses against my stomach, travelling lower. “Although after all of last night’s exertions, I’m not sure how you’ll manage it again so fast.”

“I’ll give you a simple heads-up. Changing the subject never, ever works with me.”

She rolls her eyes and looks at the view again, pulling her hand away. “It’s a stupid name. Born from bohemian parents and some bizarre need to clearly cause me embarrassment for my entire life. Perhaps the only thing I resent them for.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it or I’ll make you say it.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “Are you going to spank me again?”

“Maybe.” She moves to flee, but I clamp down to hold her in place. “Or maybe I’ll twist your nipples until you scream and beg. We could do that.” Her eyes widen as she struggles and laughs. “We could also try orgasm denial. Say it. I don’t like secrets.”

“Fine. River-Spring. There. Happy?”

“Extremely.” It’s one thing I have over my brother. A connection he can’t touch, even if he does have to use it moving forward. “And I like it. River suits you. It flows like your hair. Think I’ll call you that from now on.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” I get up, still holding her, and place her back on the bed.

“Everett?”

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t done any work for you, despite you paying for me.”

“No.”

“So, do you have any intention of letting me do any work? I’m sure, despite you telling me the numbers won’t add up, I can find something. I’m good at my job, you know.”

I stare, licking my lips at the thought of actually letting her into my financial affairs. “Would you like to play with my accounts?”

“Yes.”

“You get one then. On Monday. We’ll see how that goes.” What harm can she do? I’ll make it all back in an hour if she screws up. “And now that’s dealt with, get dressed. I’ll show you around town before we get ready to leave.”

She looks at me, a smile spreading over her face. “Can we get coffee? Go to a bakery? All the small-town goodness?”