“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.