He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ve always kind of wanted to do it. I used to like to write stories all through school.”
“In those notebooks you carried around?”
“Yes. I had hundreds of stories and pieces of stories in those notebooks. And I took a couple of creative writing classes in college as electives. But it was always expected that I’d go into business with my family. No one ever really asked me. They just functioned as if I would. So I got my degrees and I did the job they gave me and I tried to enjoy it. It wasn’t that bad, but I couldn’t get the idea of writing out of my head. Then a couple of years ago I got an idea for a book I wanted to write, but work was so all-consuming I never had time to get started. So I finally just told my parents I was taking a year off from business so I could write it.”
“I’m surprised you managed to convince them. It couldn’t have been easy.”
“I didn’t convince them. I just said I was going to do it. They were really hurt and disappointed, as you overheard from my grandmother last night.” He sighed, his eyes darkening. “But it felt like I was at a breaking point. I wasn’t living the life I wanted. I wasn’t the me I wanted to be. I had to do something, and that was what I ended up doing.”
“I’m glad you did. There has to be a balance between loving our families and living the life that’s right for us.”
“Yes.” He turned to meet her eyes again. “I’m not saying that I’m going to be a full-time writer or anything. It’s entirely possible that the book isn’t any good and will never get published. I’ve always known I’d go back to work with my family after the year is done. But I’m glad I wrote it anyway.”
“So you’re done with the book?”
“The first draft, yes. But it’s kind of a mess, so I’m trying to fix it up now.”
“How long until the year is over?”
“A month and a half.” He sighed. “I’m running out of time.”
“If you don’t want to go back to working for your family, just tell them that. You can do something else.”
“I can’t keep doing nothing but write, not if I’m not making money at it.”
His family was even wealthier than hers was. He could definitely spend his entire life doing nothing but writing and never earn a penny. So his hesitation was clearly from the need to work for a living in the world rather than living on his family’s money, which was something she could respect and understand.
“Well, you could get a different sort of job. You’ve got plenty of education and experience. Maybe you could find a job that you’d enjoy more and would give you more time to write on the side.”
He nodded. “Maybe. I’ve thought about it. But defying my family isn’t the easiest thing in the world. I really don’t like to hurt and disappoint them.”
“I know. I don’t blame you. But I still think you’ve got to do what’s best for you and do your best to make them understand.”
“Yeah.” He sighed and gave his head a brief shake. “Anyway. I’m not big on the poor-little-rich-boy routine. I know perfectly well I have it far better than most. I’m lucky I was even able to take this year. And we’ll see what happens from here.”
His tone made it clear he wanted the conversation to be over, and she wasn’t in the mood to push him. She was about to start a new topic when her stomach growled loudly. “I guess I’m hungry. You want something to eat?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
She climbed out of bed. “Then come on. We’ll see what we can find.”
TAYLOR WASN’T USUALLY much of a breakfast person, but she didn’t eat out a lot, so she always kept her pantry and refrigerator well stocked. She had eggs and milk and baking supplies, so after rooting through available options, she and Charles decided on scrambled eggs and pancakes.
She put Charles in charge of the eggs while she whipped up some pancake batter. She liked cooking. She wasn’t any sort of gourmet chef, but she could follow directions well and she could usually make things taste the way they were supposed to. She liked routine tasks, and she liked eating the finished products. She’d made enough pancakes in her life to not be worried about the way they’d turn out today.
As she was waiting for her griddle to heat up, she looked over her shoulder at Charles, who was wearing nothing but his gray boxer briefs and was studiously beating the eggs in a bowl.
He had a really nice body. It wasn’t made like a bodybuilder, but it was lean and toned and masculine. His hair was standing almost on end right now, and he needed to shave. He looked sexy and domestic both.
It gave her strange tingles and not only in predictable places.
He glanced back as he became aware of her scrutiny. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“No, you’re not doing it wrong. How exactly would you beat the eggs wrong?”
“I don’t know. But you were staring at me, so I asked.”
“I wasn’t staring.” When his eyes ran up and down her body—she was wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt—she got more of those tingles. “I was just noticing that your hair needs some help at the moment.”
He ran a hand through his dark, rumpled hair, but it did nothing to smooth it down. “I’m not the only one whose hair isn’t exactly behaving itself.”
Taylor laughed. In fact, it was almost a giggle. She’d never been a giggler, so she wasn’t sure where the sound had even come from. She was well aware that her hair was tangled and full of flyaways, but she’d been too interested in breakfast to comb it out. “That’s because my hair had a very good time in bed last night, so you only have yourself to blame for its current messiness.”
His dark blue eyes heated up as he looked at her. If a look could touch her, his was definitely doing so. “I like how you look right now.”
She glanced down at herself. Bare legs. Nipples poking out through the cotton of the T-shirt. Hair hanging messily down over her shoulders. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
She felt her cheeks warming, which was absolutely ridiculous. “Pay attention to your eggs, or the pancakes will be done before the eggs are.”
He turned back to his eggs with a little smile on the corners of his mouth.
Taylor was smiling too as she poured out a couple of pancakes onto the griddle.
They focused on making breakfast until their plates were full and they sat down at her kitchen table with fresh cups of coffee.
“These are really good,” Charles said with a mouthful of pancakes.
She laughed again (once more suspiciously close to a giggle). “The eggs are too. You’re not bad in the kitchen. The kitchen and the bedroom. You’ve definitely been hiding secret talents all this time.”
“I haven’t been hiding them. You just haven’t bothered to look.”
She thought about that and decided he was probably right. She’d always known Charles and had never had bad feelings about him except for when he tried to boss around her and her friends when they were all kids. But she’d never been inclined to get to know him in a deeper way. Maybe he’d been like this all the time—smart and sexy and serious and thoughtful and warm—and she’d just never noticed it before.