“He was just Blake, she kept telling herself. Just her guardian, as familiar as the towering old house and its ring of live oaks. But something was different. Something…and she couldn't quite grasp what. “Blake, are you angry with me?” she asked him one evening as he started upstairs to dress for a date. He scowled down at her. “What makes you think that, Kathryn?” he asked. She shrugged, and forced a smile for him. “You seem…remote.” “I've got a lot on my mind, kitten,” he said quietly. “The st...rike?” she guessed. “That, and a few other assorted headaches,” he agreed. “If you're through asking inane questions, I am on my way out.” “Sorry,” she said flippantly. “Heaven forbid that I should keep you from the wheat fields.” “Wheat fields?” “Where you sow your wild oats, of course,” she said with what felt like devastating sophistication as she turned to go back in the living room where Phillip and Maude were talking. He chuckled softly. “Your slip's showing.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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