her breast.
Something unfamiliar stirred inside him, something that had nothing to do with desire. She saw her dream so clearly, wanted it so much. He wondered if he had ever felt that way about anything. Or was he like Paige, calmly accepting the role into which he’d been born? To the point of subconsciously choosing his friends based on social status and his job based on family tradition? Had he ever once questioned if his life were what he wanted, rather than simply what was expected?
The room, the bed, Aurora herself, suddenly held a world of temptation. Standing in the doorway, he felt shaken—as if he’d stepped too close to the edge of a cliff. He mentally scrambled back by turning his head away. Still, he could smell the scent of fresh linens, hear the rustle of fabric as Aurora helped Betsy change the bed. All the while, the women kept up a steady stream of conversation.
The ringing of his phone came as a welcome distraction and he unclipped it from his belt. His relief died, though, when his father’s voice came through, controlled, chilled, and angry. “Oliver, do you mind if I ask where you are right now?”
The question jarred him, since his father didn’t normally pry into his private affairs. “Is there a reason you’d like to know?”
“I take that to mean the rumor I just heard is true. In that case, do you mind if I ask if you’ve lost your mind?”
Resentment flared at this evidence that the Galveston Grapevine was in fine working order. Didn’t people have anything better to do with their time than talk about each other? Feeling Aurora’s questioning gaze, he lowered his voice. “Could I call you back? I’m, uh, losing my signal.”
“I take that to mean you’re with the St. Claire girl,” his father guessed. “Very well, I’ll be waiting for your call... and an explanation.”
An explanation?
Since when did his father expect an accounting of how he spent his personal time? Although this wasn’t personal. It had to do with the bank and the LeRoche foreclosure, which made it his father’s business.
After disconnecting, he turned back to the room to find Aurora watching him, her expression puzzled. He offered both women a smile. “If y’all will excuse me, I’ll step out in the courtyard. I think I can get a better signal there.”
“Certainly.” Betsy smiled and waved him away.
Rory watched him go, wondering if something was wrong. She’d felt the shift in his mood like a change in the air. Although whatever had upset him was likely none of her business. She and Chance were merely acquaintances. Yet her thoughts lingered on him as she helped Betsy get the room ready for the newlyweds.
When they finished, she headed downstairs to look for Chance. She stepped out the back door, but the courtyard appeared empty.
“Chance?” she called, half wondering if he’d left her stranded.
“Over here.”
Relieved, she followed the sound of his voice around a rose trellis to a secluded area she hadn’t noticed before. Tall shrubs shielded a hot tub from the main house and the neighbors, creating a private alcove. She found Chance sitting on the edge of a cedar deck that surrounded the tub.
“Hey, is anything wrong?” she asked.
“No, I was just thinking.”
“Oh?” She stepped closer, unable to read his expression, but unhappiness hung about him like a dark cloud. “About what?”
“About your plan to buy Pearl Island.” He rose and stood before her with his hands thrust deep in his trouser pockets. “So”—he cocked his head to the side—“now that you’ve heard what to expect and had a taste of cleaning rooms, is your heart still set on opening a B and B?”
“Absolutely!” A smile blossomed from deep inside her. “I know it won’t be easy, and you probably think I’m crazy, but I really want to do this.”
“I see.” He studied her a moment. “Aurora, I have to be honest with you. Your chances of succeeding are not good.”
“I know.” She