“Not that he had decided to coax his irascible house guest into bed. But it was nice to know there was some level of emotional involvement, despite her determined antipathy. He crossed one ankle over the other and rubbed his chest with one hand. Annalise’s gaze tracked his every move. She worried her bottom lip. “You want kids?” Her incredulity nicked him. “I’m on the wrong side of thirty-five. Is that so strange?” Instead of sitting down, she paced, her nervous energy palpable. ...“I didn’t peg you for the family type. Didn’t your parents divorce?” He nodded. “When I was nine. Dad worked long hours, so Mother got full custody and took me to Alabama, where she was from.” “Hence the accent.” “Yeah. Alabama was great, but I’d visit Dad several times a year, and then every summer, I came here. To Sycamore Farm.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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