He pulled his cell out of his pocket. “For crying out loud, she’s probably worried sick.”

“I doubt it.” Sophie dropped back onto the sofa. “She and Kevin took the twins to Hershey Park today.”

“And not you?”

“I’m grounded. My physics grade is still in the toilet.”

“So you came here instead of studying because . . . ?” Hank prodded his daughter.

“’Cause I wanted to spend time with my father.” She picked at the chipped blue nail polish on her thumb, avoiding her father’s face.

Hank slammed his phone on the desk. “Bull!”

Sophie leaped up from her seat. “Of course not! Why would you want to spend time with me, anyway? I came to meet Julianne Marchione. To show her my jewelry and see if she might want to use some with her gowns. Not that you’d understand!”

“Jewelry? What jewelry?”

Annabeth’s heart nearly broke at the crestfallen look on Sophie’s face. “God, Dad, don’t you even listen when I talk to you? Mom and Kevin have the twins always distracting them, but you don’t even have that as an excuse. Nobody hears a word I say.”

Sophie headed for the door, but her father blocked her way. “Hold up. I do hear what you say. I just assumed the jewelry you make is for your friends. Not to make money.” He ran a finger over the sparkling earring Annabeth had held earlier. “Is this yours? It’s beautiful.”

Hank’s tender tone with his daughter stilled Annabeth’s breathing. She’d always wanted a father to listen to her at her darkest hour. How her life might have been different had she had one. Except then she might not have had Will. And that thought choked her up even more.

“I should go check on the guests,” she said, making her way past them.

“No!” Sophie cried. “Please don’t go, Annabeth. Dad, Annabeth is going to sell my jewelry in her store. We were just talking about it.”

“Is that so?” Hank’s measuring glance focused in on Annabeth. She licked her lips.

“It is, right, Annabeth?” Sophie sounded nervous, as if her father would force Annabeth to retract her offer.

“Yes, we have a deal.” She smiled at Sophie before turning her gaze on Hank, daring him to contradict her.

He contemplated them both before speaking. “On one condition.”

“Daaaad!” Sophie wailed.

“That physics grade has to go up a letter grade before you can work on any new jewelry. If it does, you can spend all summer working in her store for all I care.”

“Really? Can I, Annabeth?” Sophie’s eyes beamed.

Annabeth looked at the girl’s father, who raised his own eyebrow in challenge.

“Sure,” she heard herself saying. “I can always use the help during the summer.”

“Ohmigod! This is so sweet!” Sophie hugged her dad before wrapping her arms around Annabeth. “I’m sooo glad I came today. Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me!” She flounced out the door to find Walker.

They both stood there in silence staring at the door. Feeling the need to flee with Sophie, Annabeth retrieved her clutch from the sofa.

“Mrs. Connelly.” Hank’s nearness startled her.

She looked up to find him watching her carefully. “It’s Miss. I’ve only ever been a Miss.”

Hank lifted a hand in agitation and rubbed the back of his neck again. She’d rattled him. Good.

“Yes. Miss. I apologize.”

He paused for a moment to study her face. Annabeth felt heat flare in her cheeks. He was looking at her differently. Like a man who was interested in her. She’d seen that look many times before. Unfortunately, like the men before him, he wouldn’t find her interesting once he got past her good looks.

Hank seemed to shake himself. “Thank you. For backing me up there. She’s a little . . . impetuous, but she’s a great kid. You shouldn’t worry about having her underfoot all summer, though. Physics doesn’t come that easily to her. She’s not very theoretical.”

Annabeth took exception to his remark. Unexpected motherhood had stalled her own education, and she had only a high school GED. Her son never lorded his Ivy League degree over her head, but she knew she was definitely inferior to him academically. Obviously, Hank Osbourne, with his multiple college degrees, felt the same way about his own daughter.

“Shame on you! You should encourage your daughter to succeed. I truly hope she surprises you. And when she does, I’ll be delighted to have her work for me.”

He didn’t recoil from the bite of her words. Instead, his lips curved into a wolfish grin. “I do, too, Miss Connelly. In fact, I may pay for her tutor to come every night before the final exam in two weeks so she does well on it.”

Annabeth tried to stalk past him, but he stopped her at the door.

“Aren’t you curious about why I want her to succeed?” he breathed into her ear.

She turned her neck to meet his gaze, but said nothing.

He pulled the door open. “Because then I’ll have an excuse to spend my weekends in Chances Inlet with its extraordinary . . . scenery,” he murmured as she stepped over the threshold into the foyer.

Annabeth didn’t dare look back. She was torn—on the one hand, hoping Sophie would surprise her father, but on the other, wary of having Hank Osbourne pursuing her. Hank was a part of her son’s world, not hers. He’d quickly realize that fact when he arrived in Chances Inlet.

Nine

The small jet landed smoothly on the runway nestled between the berm and sand. Will had wasted no time getting them to North Carolina once Dr. Ling had discharged Owen that morning, swiftly whisking them off to Reagan National Airport, where a private plane waited. He’d arrived at the hospital with a state-of-the-art infant carrier, insisting their son be properly strapped in his seat the entire time they were in the air. Julianne was relieved that Owen slept peacefully during the forty-minute flight because, had he been fussy, there was no way she was leaving him in that car seat. Her arrogant, domineering husband could bluster all he wanted.

It had been two days since their marriage and that encounter in the powder room. She’d managed to keep her interactions with Will brief and always in front of witnesses. Once on the plane, however, he was difficult to avoid. He took up most of the cabin, lounging in one of the wide chairs across from Julianne and Owen. It was the first time she’d seen him dressed casually, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a tan golf shirt that brought out the green in his eyes. Not that she saw much of them since he’d spent the trip perusing his iPad while Julianne feigned sleep.

“I made an appointment with a pediatrician in Wilmington next week for Owen’s well-baby visit,” he announced, apparently fully aware she wasn’t sleeping. “I interviewed him yesterday. He comes highly recommended.”

Julianne cracked an eyelid open. Will was watching her, waiting for a reaction, that cool defiant look on his face. His presumptiveness was really starting to rub her raw. Dr. Ling had already referred her to a pediatrician located in Chances Inlet, a former medical professor of hers at Duke, now in private practice in the small town. Julianne had the woman’s name tucked in her purse.

“I’ve already taken care of it,” she said, closing her eyes again. Not exactly true, but she planned on taking care of it once they landed.

She heard Will snap the case of his tablet closed. “Really? Because you weren’t even taking notes when Dr. Ling was discharging him. Do you even have a vague idea of the number of checkups and inoculations Owen needs in the next several months? Or do you plan to parent the same way you live your life, by the seat of your pants?”

Julianne was thankful her seat belt was still securely snapped around her waist; otherwise, she might have flown out of the chair and throttled him. Her eyes were wide open now, and she could only imagine what he saw reflected in them. Not that he registered any reaction. His opinion of her stung, however. She wasn’t the flaky artist her brother constantly made her out to be. But she didn’t live her life encumbered by rigid rules prescribed by society, either.

“I didn’t need to take notes, because you, Mr. Ivy-League-brownnoser, were doing such a great job at it. And yes, I know exactly the protocol for well-baby visits. I had several months of pregnancy to memorize it.” She reached down to pull on a sock Owen had kicked off in his sleep. “Our deal was that I’d be the dutiful wife in public, but you aren’t dictating how I mother my son.”

Will’s jaw clenched at her slip, but Julianne reminded herself she was trying to get along. She flailed a hand in the air before he could correct her with some acerbic rebuttal.

“Pardon me. When our son”—she was gratified she didn’t choke on the word—“has an ear infection or a fever, I’m not hauling him off to a doctor forty minutes away when I can push him in a stroller to a well-qualified, well-liked physician two blocks down the street.”

Will hesitated, concern briefly flickering in his eyes, before opening his iPad once again. “I have an article on homeopathic remedies for ear infections.”

She slumped back against the seat. Undoubtedly he had entire research manuals on childcare loaded onto his tablet. He was apparently trying to debunk the dumb-jock myth single-handedly.

“You aren’t going to be able to develop a game plan for your son. He’s a living, breathing entity and things are going to happen, as we’ve already discovered. We’re going through with this ruse so you can bond with Owen. If you’re stressed about every little thing, he’ll sense it.”

His only reaction was a brief tightening of his fingers on his iPad. “I’m organized and efficient. Having a plan leads to less stress.”