After Aria had almost discovered them the previous week, they decided it would be better if Violet left her horse in the paddock with his horses to blend in. No one should be able to tell she was there if they passed by.

Jimmy watched as Violet opened the rear door of his house as they’d discussed, and stopped to make sure there was no mud on her boots before stepping in. It seemed so natural for her to do so, but he wondered if she’d ever done such a thing in New York. Then again, where would she have been walking through mud in the city?

What would people from her hometown say if they could see her now? Her personality had changed, though more than that, she’d physically changed as well. Her dresses were still stylish and expensive, but they were also practical. The dresses she’d arrived in had barely survived a stroll through town.

He liked this Violet, liked the person she’d changed into.

After she closed the door and stepped deeper into the room, she looked up and smiled at him. “It’s still strange just walking in, especially through the back door. I didn’t even do that at my own house.”

“Did you always walk in the front?”

“I did, everyone did actually. The back door was for our servants and deliveries.” She smiled sheepishly. “I can’t even remember opening the door for myself. Ever. The butler or footman always did that.”

“Look how self-sufficient you’ve become.”

She tossed him a mock glare. “Very funny.”

He rocked back on his heels. “I thought it was.”

Violet rolled her eyes and shook her head, but hearing her laugh, he knew she found it funny as well.

She delicately pulled at the tips of her gloves, one by one, until they came off. “So what do you have in mind for today’s lesson?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to come up with scenarios I might find myself in when discussing business, and I realized there was one very male situation we haven’t discussed.”

She took off her hat and placed both it and her gloves on the table. “I am not teaching you how to smoke cigars and drink brandy.”

He laughed. “I don’t think I need to learn that skill, but what I do need work on is billiards.”

“Billiards? That’s a man’s game. Why would you think I know how to play?”

He raised eyebrow. “It just seems like something you’d know how to do. Am I wrong?”

She grumbled a bit, but then gave him a sheepish grin and said, “I do. But I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, well, you seem like the type to sneak down and play during the night.”

He was thrilled when her cheeks flushed becomingly. He didn’t know how he’d guessed correctly at such a thing, but he honestly felt as if he knew her, probably better than anyone else. It was strange, but not unpleasant. He’d never had this kind of closeness with another person, and he liked it.

“So how do you want to go about this? Should we talk about the social aspect theoretically? I’m not sure we could find a billiard table, and you don’t need instructions on how to actually play the game, do you?”

“Instruction? No, I’ve got that handled.” He crooked his finger at her and walked down the hall. He heard her soft footsteps as she followed behind him.

“What do you need help with then? I don’t think there’s much etiquette to discuss except don’t be a sore loser, don’t get drunk, don’t gamble more than you can afford, and perhaps, if the person you’re trying to go into business with is a poor player, let them win.”

He scoffed. “I don’t think I want to go into business with anyone who requires I throw a game to appease him.”

He glanced back at her and saw her lips were pursed. “I agree,” she said. When he paused outside another door, she asked, “Have you played a lot of billiards?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You could say that.” Then he opened the door with a flourish.

She looked at the gorgeous billiards table in the middle of the room, then back at him and snorted. “You enjoyed that.”

“Yes I did. I thought you’d appreciate the reveal.”

“Very surprising.” She approached the table and ran her hands along the glossy, wooden edge. “It feels like forever since I’ve played.”

He walked up to stand beside her. “How long has it been?”

“Almost two years.”

He frowned. “You’ve only been here for a little over a year. Why has it been so much longer?”

She shrugged, and Jimmy could tell there was more to the story, but he didn’t push, as he knew doing so would never work with her. She was the type of woman who needed the choice whether to open up or not. He remained quiet, hoping she would confide in him.

She finally blew out a breath. “My father caught me one night.”

He hadn’t expected that answer.

“He was furious. He said if he ever caught me doing it again, I’d regret it.”

“That seems a bit harsh.”

She smiled, but there was no amusement there. “You’ve summed up my father perfectly. He was disappointed that I wasn’t a boy, and since I was the only child, I felt the brunt of his dissatisfaction. Since I would never take over his businesses, I was useless to him. I became a tool for him to use, a prize to be waved in front of the people below him. His friends and employees always felt that, if they worked hard enough, I would be the reward. That they’d marry me and have a lasting bond with Elliot Morgan, Business Tycoon. That’s where they were all wrong.”

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

She walked over to the cues and selected one, testing its weight. “Nothing. No one ever measured up, did enough, to deserve me.” She let out another humorless laugh. “Besides, if he’d given me to someone, then he would’ve lost me as an incentive. He wouldn’t have been able to use me anymore to make others do what he wanted.”

Jimmy didn’t know what to say. He’d never been a pawn, never felt as if he were only a means to an end. If their places have been reversed, he wasn’t sure he would’ve recovered. Sure, Violet had been closed off and abrasive when she’d first arrived in Promise Creek, but she’d changed, had opened her heart, had softened. She hadn’t let her past destroy her.

The more he got to know her, the more she amazed him. She was a survivor. Others might not agree because she came from wealth, she’d had enough to eat, wore expensive clothes and had servants to do everything for her, but they would never see past all that and look on the inside. They wouldn’t see the scars beneath the beautiful surface. “What about your mother?”

“There isn’t much to say. She was more of a shell than anything. The perfect ornament on my father’s arm.”

“Didn’t she intervene for you?”

She scoffed. “My mother, never once, went against my father. Never said anything, never did anything. But I don’t blame her. I didn’t expect her to do anything. My father is an intimidating man, not someone you’d ever want to cross. I never went against him either…at least, not until I left for Promise Creek.”

“What did he say when you told him you were leaving?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t tell him. I left a note.”

It took Jimmy a moment to process what she’d just said. “Do they know where you are?”

She twisted her hand around the cue nervously. “I told him where I was going, what I was doing. They haven’t tried to contact me or anything, but I was clear in my note. As far as they’re concerned, I’m married to Ivan.”

“You don’t want them to know the truth?”

“I thought about telling them, but I’m not sure it’s the best thing to do. What could come of it? My father would want to use me again. They’d want me to return. I don’t think even my broken engagement would stop him.”

He took his time selecting a cue, then casually asked, “Your ex-fiancé back in New York? How did you get engaged since your father never wanted to let you go?”

Violet collected the balls and arranged them on the table. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “When Richard Edwards, a man from one of New York’s best families, practically royalty, took an interest in me, my father didn’t interfere. It surprised me at the time.” She shook her head softly and turned her attention back to the balls. “That should have warned me Richard wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be involved with.”

“Why?” Jimmy asked as he moved next to her.

She finished arranging the balls and stepped back. When she was satisfied with the layout, she glanced at him. “Because anyone my father approves of enough to lose his prized possession to, is someone I don’t want to marry.”

Jimmy understood. It was an irrational thought, but he wished he could go back, talk to her father, or more important, knock some sense into him. Violet’s father had no idea the treasure he had beyond what he gained by using her. He was relieved Violet had managed to escape. “I’m glad you’re away from all that. But I’m sure they miss you.”

She puffed out a breath. “I bet they miss what I can do for them. If they were concerned over my welfare, or if they truly missed me, they would’ve come or sent someone to find me and bring me home. They haven’t bothered.”

She was right. He couldn’t argue with that. She was acting as though it didn’t matter, but he knew she was hurt. Parents should protect their children, should try to make their lives happy. It was natural from what he’d seen here and in his own life, but perhaps it wasn’t so natural in the east. He hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been to grow up in a loving home, with a mother and a father who cared about him, who had pushed him to become the man he was now.

“Anyway”—she flipped her hand through the air, pulling him from his thoughts—“that’s in the past, and I want it to stay there. Our present,” she said, as she went to the table. “Shall I start?”

He leaned on his cue stick. “Do you know how?” he asked, teasing her.

She raised her brows. “I guess we’ll see.”

And just like that, they fell back into a familiar rhythm. He liked that about her. They could discuss important, heavy things, but then just as quickly, brush it off and enjoy each other’s company.

Violet rounded the table and took position. Her grip on the cue stick wasn’t traditional, but it surged forward, cracking into the ball, which sent the others ricocheting around the table.

She tossed him a confident look, and he chuckled. She might not have proper training, but she certainly made up for it.

When it was Jimmy’s turn, he leaned forward, focusing his full attention on the game. He calculated the angles quickly in his mind, then slid his cue stick seamlessly through his fingers. The intended ball rolled smoothly into the corner pocket.

“Well, I guess you really don’t need any instructions on how to play.”

He shook his head in amusement. “I think I’ve spent far too much time with this table.”

Violet moved to the other side, her hands trailing the wood edging, and Jimmy thought about how it would feel to have Violet’s hands running over him. Their kiss rushed to the forefront of his thoughts, and he ached to taste her again.

She sunk another ball into a pocket, but Jimmy realized it was more because of luck than skill.

In fact, as he watched for the next several turns, he realized she followed her instincts, instead of calculating the angles. “You know, if you had a bit of instruction, you would be masterful.”

“I think I’m pretty good as I am.”

He agreed when she sunk another shot in. “It’s incredible how well you play without being taught, but you’d be even better if you made a few small changes.”

She seemed intrigued. “How so?” She tilted her head, considering his words. “And are you going to be the one to teach me?”

“I can show you a thing or two, if you want?”

She turned around and leaned against the table. “Oh, you’ve got my interest now. What’s something I can improve upon?”

He wondered how much he should say. A lot of people didn’t take correction well, but as he studied Violet, he could see she genuinely wanted to know. “You have good instincts. You’ve obviously played enough to know that if you hit the ball and connect it with another ball a certain way, you’ll get the desired result. But it isn’t foolproof. There’s much more room for error.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Line up your angles.” He leaned forward, partially laying on the table, and lined up a shot, demonstrating exactly what he meant. He showed her where to hit balls, how to calculate their trajectory.

“Huh.” She studied the table, her jaw slightly askew. She used her cue stick and leaned forward, checking angles, doing exactly as he’d told her. When she was ready, she sunk a ball in the pocket. “Well that makes things a lot easier.” She puffed out a breath. “What else can you teach me?”

“You have good aim, but your grip on the stick makes pushing it through difficult.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned forward on the table, hooking his index finger over the end of the cue, and let the stick rest comfortably in his hand. “See this? This is the best way to hold it. It allows the stick to glide through your fingers and connect firmly to the ball. If you hold it other ways,” he demonstrated several different holds, “it's likely to go off track when you push it forward. Try it.”

Violet leaned next to him, copying his hands. She pushed the stick forward several times, but it didn't quite work.

“You almost have it.” Without thinking, he stepped behind her and leaned over her body, pressing his chest to her back. He placed his hands on top of hers, positioning her fingers around the cue stick, before thrusting it forward, demonstrating the correct way. “Just like that. Nice and easy. Feel the difference?”

It was then he realized Violet had gone still beneath them, and she was very much beneath him. The feel of her body under his, pressed against him, scorched him. He'd been so focused on teaching her how to play, he hadn't realized the position he’d put them in.

And what a delicious position it was.

Unable to stop himself, he tilted his head down between her neck and shoulder and inhaled softly. His eyes rolled back in his head. She smelled of lavender soap, honey, and excitement.

She shivered at his attention, and he ached to do so much more. He wanted to run his hands over her body, down her back to her waist, feel every peak and valley—

This is dangerous.

The more time he spent with her, the more he fell under her spell, until desire ate at him. Not that he thought she was doing it on purpose. Her behavior toward him hadn’t changed much since he’d pulled her out of the river, but as she’d opened up about her past, she’d wedged herself firmly in his heart.

She remained still beneath him, and he took a chance, nuzzling her neck, relishing her short gasp as he scraped his teeth gently along the sensitive skin.

Her breathing increased, coming out in gasps. She still didn't pull away, and instead, tilted her head even more to the side, giving him greater access to explore.

His blood heated, but he didn't go any faster. Instead, he placed a soft kiss against the skin, flicking her with his tongue before he released her. “You taste so good.”

She moaned, and arched against him, innocently offering him more.

He gritted his teeth as she pressed up against his body. He kept his hands on top of hers over the table, his body refusing to release her as he pressed her into the table. He placed soft, wet kisses from her ear down her neck, to her shoulder, again gently biting down. This time she thrashed against him, and he let go of her hands.

Violet turned in his arms to face him, forcing him to stand, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight against her. Her hands dove into his hair, gripping, kneading, as if she couldn't control yourself.

Her eyes flashed, echoing the feelings surging through him. Something was happening here, something which burned between them. It would be wise to stop, to put distance between them. But he wasn't wise.

Instead, Jimmy let need take over. He crushed his lips to hers and groaned as she opened for him. Whatever he gave, she took, giving him just as much in return.

He pressed her into the table, wanting to feel her body against his. When there wasn’t enough contact, he released her to trail his hands down to her hamstrings, lifting her up and onto the table’s edge in seconds.

She wiggled to get comfortable, but never released him. Her mouth stayed fused to his; tasting, yearning, wanting even more.

He wanted to give her everything.

It was madness, and reality faded. He didn't know where he was, the day, or what they'd done before this moment, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was her.

She pressed against him, and he groaned. “Why can't I get enough of you? Why isn’t one kiss enough?”

She kissed him again quickly. “I don't know.” Her voice was breathy. “I don't know what's happening.”

The sparks between them, this intensity of feeling, was beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. This was rare, this type of connection didn't happen often, he was sure of it. “There's something here.”

She leaned back in his arms but didn't release her hold on him. “I don't know. I don't know what this is. I don't know what to do about it.”

He closed the space between them and placed a soft kiss on her lips, loving the way her eyelashes fluttered, as if she couldn't help herself. “What do you want to do about it?” he asked softly.

“I don't know.”

He lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck. “Do you want me to stop?”

Her head fell back in surrender, and it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to ravish her right then, to kiss her from head to toe, discover all the places that caused her to go limp. He couldn't take it that far, but the desire was there, burning close to the surface.

When she still didn't answer, he asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

She tilted her head up so her eyes met his. “No.”

He closed his eyes tight and reached a hand to steady himself on the table. He'd expected her to say yes, to ask him not to go any further.

That's what I should do. I should stop. He should find the self-control to pull away from her—

She wiggled against him, and something snapped inside. She gasped as he yanked her up against him a second before crushing his mouth to hers. It was wild, aggressive, consuming, and she was there with him every step of the way. She didn't pull back, didn't resist. She plundered him as if it were her right, as if she owned him.

And right now, she did.

When he was about to cross the line, he yanked away from her, steadying her with one hand. He gulped in air much like a man who’d been held too long under water.

Violet's eyes widened as reality intruded. They were playing a dangerous game, but as he took in her swollen cherry red lips, the way her chest heaved, sucking in air, all he wanted to do was take more.

He needed to get a hold of himself. If they were going to continue to see each other, especially in private, he needed to have control. He refused to do anything Violet would regret later.

After a moment, Violet’s breathing slowed, and he helped her step down from the table. She brushed her skirts, trying to get the fabric to lay how it was meant to. “I appreciate the tips on how to play better. If my father ever sees me play again, he'll be shocked.” She offered him a small smile.

Jimmy emotions were so churned up, he had no idea what she was talking about at first, but seeing the smile on her face, eased him. Their chemistry wasn't something to worry over. It just was. It existed, and he didn't see it going away anytime soon. So why shouldn’t they enjoy it? They just needed to be careful.

He returned her smile. “From what I've seen, he'll be afraid.”

“Why?”

He smirked. “Because he'll know that if he plays against you, you’ll win.”

Jimmy had a feeling Violet would always win against him as well. He didn't think he’d ever look at a billiards table without thinking of today. It might be a distraction, but he welcomed it, because today had given him the sweetest memory.