“Come on, Rosabel.”
She shook her head. “I need to check on my father. Thanks for stopping by.” Rosabel turned, grateful to walk away from him twice now.
“You’re missing out.”
The threat tapped her on the shoulder and tingled her spine all at once. Her defensive side that typically only flared up during an intense discussion of literature spiraled, but she ignored it. She couldn’t give in. She knew exactly where this conversation would lead. The thought was exhausting. She was tired of being such a predictable person and had let him sway her too many times. This would not be one of them.
“Goodbye, Duncan,” she said, approaching the porch. Her stocking feet were wet from the afternoon grass, and she left footprints on the sidewalk.
“I’ll give you a raise.”
Rosabel hesitated mid-step, one foot lifted. Lowering her foot to the ground, she gripped the iron railing. The idea was too tempting, if only to have the money to deal with the bills on the table. She turned her head, just enough to catch him in her periphery.
“A good one,” he added. His feet shuffled on the grass behind her. He moved closer, but she refused to meet his eye, and kept her focus on the porch swing.
“How good?”
“Noticeably.”
He was behind her now. She swore she felt his breath on the back of her neck. All the more reason not to turn around. Being that close to him never boded well.
“Turn around, Rosabel. Let’s talk about this.”
Fine. If he wanted her to face him, she’d do it. She climbed a single step, making sure to not only have height over him, but also distance. Folding her arms, Rosabel hoped to ensure he couldn’t stand any closer to her than she was comfortable with. “Mr. Hawthorne,” she began. Curse the smile that started ticking at the corner of her mouth. Why did he have that effect on her when she knew what a scoundrel he was? “I can’t be bought. The truth is, my dad needs me here. I can’t afford to pay for his in-home care, nor can I keep working when I need to be here to watch him. He needs me. You don’t.”
Duncan mirrored her and folded his arms. “I’ll pay for it.”
“You—what?”
“Look, I’m headed out to Arkansas tomorrow, and I can’t go alone, or I’ll never hear the end of it from my mother. You need to come with me, so they believe …”
She inclined her brows in an act of disbelief. “Believe what? You said she thinks we’re dating. Are you saying you want me to go there as a girlfriend? Because I’m not. I’m your assistant.”
He climbed a step, and she retreated toward the door. “It’s been three years since I’ve seen any of them, and I want to make the best new impression that I can. I don’t want them to see my bachelor status as a failure.”
She guffawed. Of course, this didn’t have a speck to do with helping her or her father. This was about him. It was always about him.
He went on. “I’m buying this incredible lake house. You can hang out there, hide away and read or whatever it is you do—”
He noticed she liked reading? She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended.
“You won’t have to make nice with the family until my grandmother’s birthday.”
He called his grandma grandmother? That seemed way too formal, even for someone like him. “Your grandmother?”
“At this point, thanks to my mother, she probably thinks you’re my girlfriend.”
“Then she needs to be set straight.”
“I completely agree.”
“You—what?”
He smirked and rifled something from his pocket. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of fiancée.”
Rosabel held out her hands. “Not a chance. Do you hear yourself?”
“Come on, Rosabel. I wasn’t kidding that she won’t be around much longer. She’s ninety-five.”
“That’s yesterday’s eighty these days.”
“Yes, but she’s already had a stroke. It’s her wish to see me happily settled down or something. Assuming she speaks to me while we’re there.”
Rosabel gaped. Whether he was being truthful now or not, she wasn’t ready to dive into whatever that meant. No need to get him off on another tangent before they’d resolved this one.
Was he in the middle of a squabble with his grandma? Such a thing sounded almost laughable. She guided him back to the topic at hand, making a mental note to ask him what he’d meant about the disagreement between him and his family later. “Did you ever consider actually happily settling down with someone you care about?”
“When have I ever met anyone like that?” His tone was too clipped, and she could tell he knew it. Still, he gritted his jaw and didn’t take the sentiment back.
For some reason, the statement soothed her. Her back was up any time he mentioned having an interest in her. Someone as controlling and manipulative as he was would never make a good boyfriend or husband. She already knew that fact—she wasn’t about to learn the hard way.
“I’ll cover all your dad’s medical bills,” he said. “We’ll get him in a facility, somewhere reliable where he can be comfortable and well looked after. Or we’ll hire care to stay here with him at all hours if need be. It’s all done, no worries. No strings.”
Her brows leapt. “No strings?”
“Well, just one. Come to Arkansas with me. Wear a ring, pretend you like me. Get through my grandmother’s birthday party, and then you can come back and make my coffee every day like you do.”
Rosabel rolled her eyes. “I’m not coming back just to make your coffee.”
“Whatever,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
She fought the second eye roll. The offer was tempting, only so far as having Dad cared for so she could see to his expenses and needs. In no way did Duncan appeal to her otherwise, not with his hazel eyes or the swoosh of hair above his forehead or the way his confident manner sparked her blood in spite of herself.
She thought of Havisham Assisted Living, the care center she’d been looking into for Dad. Of not having to worry if Sarah had fallen asleep or lost track of Dad again. She thought of the time she would have in Arkansas to research freelancing, start an online group to find clientele, or even set up a website. The bills. The worries. This could be the answer she needed to get her feet on the ground.
But she refused to agree to anything unless Duncan made a few changes first. “I will consider your offer, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said.
“I—what?”
He’d thought she would give in right away? Huh. Maybe having him be the one to accept a few demands was the way to go. Let him know what disappointment felt like.
“And I’ll get back to you this evening. Tomorrow at the latest.” She made for the door.
“Our flight leaves tomorrow morning,” he said from behind her, as though she agreed.
Rosabel lifted a finger and spoke over her shoulder. “Correction. Your flight leaves tomorrow. Whether or not I’m also on it is yet to be decided.”
Duncan’s voice rose in pitch. “Come on, what’s it going to take? You want flowers? A new wardrobe?”