Without another word, I hooked my arm around Aunt Amelia’s shoulders and ushered her out of the room. Sophie looked uncertainly at Mrs. W, still chewing on her lower lip. As soon as we cleared the kitchen, Amelia murmured, “I never thought I'd see the day that old battle-ax and I agreed on something.”

“Don't call Mrs. W a battle-ax,” I said.

Mrs. W was in her late forties, but she looked a decade younger. She had the posture of a ballerina and the kind of bone structure that told you she’d been beautiful in her twenties and would still be beautiful when she was Amelia’s age. Even in her severe dresses, with her dark hair in a tight bun, she was in no way a battle-ax. “I don't understand why the two of you have never gotten along, and I don't want to know. I'm just glad she's on my side.”

Amelia let me pull out her chair. When I went to leave, she said, “Sit. Sophie will be in the kitchen for a few minutes, and I want to talk to you.”

I sat in a chair beside Amelia's. “Don't you want lunch on a tray in the living room or the library?” I asked. The dining room was huge, with more than enough room for the entire family plus guests. Lunch for one would be lonely at the long table.

Amelia smiled and looked around the room, her dark eyes taking in the polished table with loving warmth. “I have a lot of good memories from this room, Gage. When you get to my age, memory can be company.”

I thought of all the meals I'd eaten in that room when my parents had been alive and the whole family packed the table. Later, nightly dinners with Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia surrounded by my siblings and cousins. They were all here, the living and the dead, a part of the very fabric of this room, this house.

I’d spent so many years running from my memories, haunted by them. I never stood still long enough to see that Winters House was the one place where my family was always with me, even those that were gone.

“I know what you mean,” I said, finally. Amelia reached out to take my hand and squeezed.

“I know you do.” She gave my hand another squeeze and held it in hers. “You take care of that girl, Gage. I know you too well to think you're playing with her, but I need to warn you anyway. If you don't treat her right, I'll be very disappointed in you.”

After a long silence while I tried to come up with some kind of response, something funny, something that would deflect the seriousness of the conversation, I gave up and just said, “I think I'm falling in love with her.”

Amelia gave me a brilliant smile and said, “I already know that. You two think you're so subtle. The looks you were giving each other over cards yesterday, I thought you were going to set the library on fire.”

“Don't tell Sophie that,” I said. “She'd die of embarrassment.”

“I know that, foolish boy. I can keep things to myself when it's important. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, and I know that you’re head over heels in love with the girl. I'm just asking you to be careful with her.”

“I will,” I promised. Standing, I pressed a kiss to Amelia's wrinkled cheek and left, saying, “I'll tell Mrs. W you’re ready for your lunch.”

I bumped into Sophie in the hall on my way back to the kitchen. Giving me another of those shy looks, she said, “Just let me change. I'll be right back.”

Then she was gone, striding down the hall to her room. Whatever Mrs. W said to her, it must've worked. Leaning in the kitchen doorway, I watched her efficiently assembling Amelia’s sandwich as she heated soup in a small pot on the gas stove.

Seeing me, she speared me with a sharp look and said, “Don't make me regret this, Gage.”

“I won't, I swear.”

“It goes against everything I've always thought appropriate,” she said, crisply, “but Sophie has a good head on her shoulders, and she'd never think to take advantage. See that you don't either.”

I nodded. I probably should've been offended that everyone was more worried about Sophie's well-being than mine. This was my family, not hers. It was just one more reminder that she'd been here, a part of their everyday lives, and I'd been gone.

But, as much as they adored Sophie, I knew that if Amelia and Mrs. W didn't trust me to take care with her, they wouldn't be scheming to get her to go out with me. In a weird, backward way, them pushing me and Sophie together felt like forgiveness.

Mrs. W and Amelia were easy. Aiden, however, would be a problem. I’d deal with him later. For once, his long hours and habit of avoiding me were coming in handy.

Sophie came back down the hall wearing the same jeans she'd had on before, now with a red wool turtleneck sweater. She’d taken her hair down, and it spilled over her shoulders in silvery blond waves. The sweater covered every inch of skin above her waist, but it was snug and did nothing to hide the full swell of her breasts or the curve of her waist.

I stared too long before I caught myself, imagining peeling up the soft red wool and sliding my hands over the creamy skin beneath.

Mrs. W cleared her throat. “We'll be back in a few hours,” I said. “Is anyone using the Land Rover?”

“I think Abel took it to the market.”

Damn. I needed to get my own car. It hadn't been a priority in the short time that I’d been home. Sophie interrupted, “We can take my truck.”

That piece of crap truck in the garage was Sophie's? I'd assumed it was Abel's. Looking down at her I said, “Okay, but I'm driving.”

She laughed and bumped her shoulder into my arm. “Are you one of those guys who never lets the woman drive?”

I took her hand in mine and pulled her through the kitchen to the mud room and garage, giving Mrs. W a quick wave as we left. “Is that a problem?” I asked.

I hadn't really thought about it like that, though if I were being honest then yes, I was definitely the kind of man who didn't like the woman to drive.

“I don't know,” Sophie said. “I guess it depends on what we're driving.”

I grabbed the keys to the truck off the hook by the door. She'd already climbed into the passenger seat and was fastening her seatbelt. The truck needed a new paint job. The tires didn't look great either. It was a midsize model, not huge and not a toy, but it still looked too big for Sophie.

“So you don't mind me driving your truck, but if it was something else you might fight me for the keys?” I asked, trying to figure her out.

“I used to have a Volkswagen Beetle. Vintage, not one of the new ones. No way would I have let you drive my girl.”

I could absolutely see Sophie driving a vintage VW beetle, and at her comment, I couldn't help but laugh. “Sophie, Angel, there is no way in hell I'd fit into a vintage Beetle.”

She let out one of those giggles I loved, and something in my chest squeezed. “If you were driving a Beetle before, what made you buy this?” I asked, turning the key and wincing at the coughing rumble of the engine. It didn't sound very reliable. As I put it in gear and backed out of the garage, I thought it sounded like the transmission was going to fall out any second.

“I didn't buy this; Charlie lent it to me. Lucas bought her a new truck a few days after my Beetle died. I didn't want to spend money on a new car—I barely drive as it is—and Charlie didn't feel like selling this one, so she said I could borrow it.”

“Lucas bought her a new truck?” I asked. Charlie was fiercely independent, and I couldn't see her letting any man, even her fiancé, buy her a truck.

“He hated this one when she bought it,” Sophie said, “I got the impression they fought about it. A lot. And when he went behind her back and bought her a brand-new one, she decided it wasn't worth fighting over anymore. I kind of think she gave me the truck to prove to Lucas that he couldn't make her sell this one, even if he bought her a replacement.”

“That sounds like Charlie,” I said looking around the interior of the truck.

The upholstery was faded and torn in places. The stereo looked like it hadn't worked in a decade. I was too smart to say it out loud, but I was with Lucas. This truck was a piece of shit and, if it was up to me, Sophie would never sit in it again.

Later. I'd had enough of a battle getting her to eat lunch with me. Buying her a new car would have to wait.

“What did Mrs. W say to you?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

Sophie slid me a sidelong look and said, “Not much. Just that there were exceptions to every rule and that it was smart to be cautious, but you’re a good man and worth the risk.”

My throat got unexpectedly tight. That was high praise from Mrs. W. I'd felt mostly like a mess since I'd been home. I was trying to get my bearings, to figure out how I fit into the world I'd left behind so many years ago. It was easy to forget that these people were my family.

They would always have my back, just as I'd have theirs. Even Aiden. Probably, Aiden most of all.

I reached out and took Sophie's hand. “Look, I know this is complicated because you work for Amelia, but I don't want to hide. We can take this slowly, but I don't want to sneak around.”

“And what about when it's over? We live in the same house, Gage.”

“This is our first date,” I said, annoyed. “Do we need to talk about the end already? At least give me a chance to fuck something up before you talk about breaking up with me.”

Sophie pulled her hand from mine and gripped her purse, playing with the zipper and avoiding my eyes. “Are we together, then? We haven't really talked about it, and then last night—” She cut off and looked out the window.

“Are you sorry we slept together?” I asked, carefully.

“No,” she said. “But I wasn't expecting it, and this is all happening too fast.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” I asked, hoping she wouldn't say yes. I'd promised myself I wouldn't push Sophie into anything she didn't want, but at the time I hadn't thought that would include lunch with me.

“No,” she said, more quietly this time. “I just didn't expect this, that's all.”

“Did you think I was just going to sleep with you and then pretend nothing happened?” I asked. The guilty look she sent me was adorable. Realization dawned. “Or was that your plan with me? You were going to use me for sex and ignore me in the morning?”

I loved it when Sophie blushed, almost as much as when she laughed.

“I wasn't planning to sleep with you,” she said, and then in a prim voice, “I wasn't the one who had a condom in his pocket.”

“It's a good thing I did, or we'd be having a different conversation this morning,” I pointed out. “It's funny, everyone warning me off taking advantage of you, no one thinking to tell you the same.”

“I wasn't using you for sex,” she protested. “I hadn't had sex since Anthony died. I wasn't thinking about a relationship at all.”

“So is this about me? Or about getting involved with anyone?” I didn't want to force Sophie into a corner, but I had to know.

“It's not you, Gage. It's not. I just don't know if I'm ready for this.”

“How long has Anthony been dead, Sophie?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Years. He'd been dead for years, and in all that time she'd been alone. Sophie didn't say a word. I pulled into a parking space in front of the restaurant and turned the truck off before I said, “I know it was bad. And I know you're scared. I can't promise that everything's going to be perfect. I can't promise you a happy ending. But I swear, Sophie, I will make this worth the risk. I swear I will never intentionally hurt you. And I promise if this blows up in our faces, I'll get out of Winters House until you think you can stand the sight of me again. Deal?”

“But you just came home,” she protested, her green eyes wide with wonder as they studied my face.

“I didn't say I'd leave Atlanta, but between Charlie and Lucas, Jacob's building, and Vance's place with Magnolia, I have plenty of options if we decide we need some space. I'm not asking you to risk your job, Sophie. I'm asking you to risk your heart.”