Home > When You're Ready (Ready #1)(22)

When You're Ready (Ready #1)(22)
Author: J.L. Berg

“Okay baby, Logan and I are gonna go. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.” She knelt down in front of her daughter who was doing a good job ignoring her. Bent over, her thigh was in full view, and I desperately tried not to stare as she said goodbye to Maddie.

I was doing a terrible job of not looking at her thigh and I heard Leah snort in the background.

Busted. My covert glances were obviously not so covert.

“Love you too, Mommy.” Maddie said absently, clearly engrossed in her book.

Clare laughed, “She’s really going to miss me, I swear.”

We headed for the door and I called out, “Bye, princess.”

“Bye, Logan!” Maddie yelled from the family room.

Leah gave me a wink followed by two thumbs up as we walked out, and I chuckled.

I was starting to like her.

~Clare~

“So are you going to tell me where we are going?” I asked Logan as we continued down the scenic highway we’d been on for what seemed like forever. Spring was my favorite season in Virginia. After endless months of bare trees and cold temperatures, spring would finally arrive. The trees flowered perfuming the air, the skyline filled with color and the days were just right for trips to the park and long walks through the neighborhood. The rural highway we roamed down now was no exception. Green trees, old worn fences and the occasional farm would pass as we drove giving a sense of peace that a world like this still existed when everything else around us moved so quickly.

“Nope,” he said as a wide, knowing grin spread across his flawless face.

“You’re really enjoying this secrecy thing, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t been on a date in a long time, and yeah...surprising you? It’s kind of fun,” he admitted.

“You haven’t dated since your divorce?” Between our long conversations on the phone and texting, he had talked about the divorce. He mentioned the cheating, and everything that happened with the press, but that was it. He didn’t talk much about his life during his marriage or after his divorce. When he did, it was vague. Mostly work related or small tidbits about friends. I knew he was holding back. Whatever the reason, I hadn’t pressed for information because I wanted him to come to me when he was ready. I understood heartache and pain, and we would both have to learn to trust each other with our own emotional scars. I had only skimmed the surface when he asked about losing Ethan. Sometimes, certain things were hard to admit, no matter who you were admitting them to.

“Dated, no. No, I definitely haven’t done this in a while.” He looked nervous, like he expected me to press for more. I didn’t. Thanks again to Leah and her savvy skills for gossip, I know the reputation he earned since his divorce, but he was here with me now. I had to believe that I meant something to him, something different.

“So, are we staying in Virginia?” I asked as I looked out the window and saw another farm pass by. Exactly how far we were driving?

He visibly relaxed at the change of conversation and laughed “Yes, we don’t have much longer.”

After fifteen minutes and an interesting conversation that involved me admitting my obsession with Broadway musicals, we arrived at our destination. When I asked him if he liked musical theater, he looked over at me, shocked, like I’d gone mad, and said, “Clare, you have noticed I’m a guy, right? Because if not, I can pull this car over right now and make that abundantly clear.”

I stared at him stunned, face turning an awful shade of red, imagining all the things we could do in that car alone. As my mind raced with a hundred different fantasies, he just smirked and said, “Breathe Clare.” I took a big gulp of air into my lungs as he started his tirade against musicals. “I loathe musicals. Randomly breaking out into song? What’s that about? It’s just plain wrong.”

I burst into laughter and we proceeded to argue the pros and cons of musical theater. Somehow I didn’t think I’d be convincing him to see “Cats” anytime soon.

We turned onto a gravel road with a worn sign that had “The Thompson Plantation Bed and Breakfast. Est. 1809” printed in wispy elegant script. I turned in my seat, a bit confused and said, “A Bed and Breakfast? A bit presumptuous, aren’t we?” I joked as we traveled down the tree lined single lane road.

“One can only hope,” he grinned. “But no. We will be enjoying dinner. Only.”

“Oh.”

“Who’s the presumptuous one now?” he laughed.

“Hey, you’re the one taking me to a -- holy shit!” I yelled, stopping myself mid-sentence when the house came into view.

The word house was an understatement. It was huge. The colossal white mansion sat along the glistening waters of the James River. We had been driving so long and talking so much, I hadn’t realized we were even following the river. Massive, dense gardens surround the house from every side, holding every flower imaginable. It looked like a postcard come to life.

The house was everything you would expect of a southern plantation, with black plantation shutters, huge white columns, and a wraparound porch. I could just close my eyes and envision what it must have looked like during the Civil War with elegantly dressed women wandering around the gardens worrying about their men as the slaves performed their duties, wondering if things would ever be different. So much history stood in this structure.

“Oh my God, Logan. This is amazing.” I grabbed the door handle, dying to jump out of the car and explore. As a history major, or “history nerd” as Ethan used to call me, I had a love for everything old. It was one of the reasons I loved living in Virginia. Once I became a single mother, I had little time left for myself. My inner nerd had been seriously deprived over the last few years. Right now, she was bouncing up and down in excitement.

“So, good surprise?” he asked, still seated in the car.

“Yes! Perfect. Now let’s go! I want to see everything!”

Laughing at my enthusiasm, he opened his door, quickly running around to open mine. He was too late. I was already out of the car, practically foaming at the mouth. I was like a kid in a candy store. My eyes were darting everywhere. There were gardens, an old barn, the house…I wanted to see it all!

“I figured a history lover would have visited all the local plantations by now, but I took a chance on this one because of its location and the fact that it was a Bed and Breakfast.

“It’s magnificent,” I sighed. It was. Whoever owned the property took precious care of it. The pristine gardens had winding paths, budding roses, and ivy covered arches that all lead to a view of the James River that went on for miles.

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