I followed Hunter through the large foyer and into a hallway, trusting he knew where we were going. We left the building through a glass door and slowed as we reached the heart of a large garden, turning a harried pace into a stroll. The smell of flowers and foliage greeted me. The weak late-fall sun sprinkled down, but it was not enough to erase the desert chill.
“No pool for me—too cold.” I shivered and crossed my arms. I should’ve brought a thicker sweater.
Hunter glanced over as we ambled along a winding path. “Wrong time of year.”
“Yes, it would seem,” I said in a dry voice.
“Hot tub.”
“Then your father would probably hop in wearing purple Speedos or something. No thanks.”
I meant it as a joke, but Hunter’s shoulders tightened at the mere mention of his dad. He slowed to a stop, eyes rooted to a cactus. “Olivia, I think you should know that I’m not exactly rational where it comes to my father. Some scars run too deeply. So if…” His jaw clenched. He slipped one of his hands into his pants pocket. “If you flirt with him, or spend time with him, I’m not sure I’ll react…professionally.”
I laid my hand on Hunter’s arm. His head tilted toward me fractionally, but he didn’t turn to meet my gaze. “The man is old, he’s a total fake, and he gives me the heebie-jeebies. Trust me, I’m not going to swan-dive into a conversation with him if I can help it, let alone flirt.”
Hunter shifted a little. His arm brushed against mine as he continued to look at the prickly plant. Without thinking, I slipped my hand around his arm and leaned against him.
“What’d he do?” I asked softly.
I felt Hunter stiffen again before he pulled away and returned to a hurried pace.
“So, that question is off-limits, I take it,” I mumbled as I followed after him.
We reached a large square area where two neat lines of golf carts stood.
He walked toward the one on the end. “You can drive us. I want to think over the best way to make contact with Donnelley.”
Like a kid getting handed a piece of candy, I crawled into the cart with a huge smile. I stowed my laptop behind me and checked out the controls. There was a key, a gas pedal, a brake pedal, and a couple buttons—probably lights and a horn. I turned the key, placing my hand on the shifter next to the wheel when it shimmied to a start.
He climbed in and rested his briefcase on his lap.
“Ready?” I asked, pushing the gear to “D.”
“Take it away, Dale Earnhardt, Jr.”
Laughing, I stepped on the gas and we lurched to a start. “Touchy, this thing.”
“When was the last time you drove?” he asked, grabbing the handle on the dash.
“Um…five years ago, I think. I didn’t have a car in college.”
“Have you ever owned a car?” He pointed to the right. I couldn’t read what the sign posted on the corner of the grass said, but turned that way, anyway. Obviously he knew where he was going. And if not, it didn’t matter. It was only a golf cart, but it was fun.
“I sold it for some college money.”
“Excuse me if this is too personal, but your mother didn’t help you?”
“She didn’t help, no. She’s…a bit self-centered. She grew up with a mother exactly the same, with the same affinity for married men. Some people become the opposite of how they were raised, and some…don’t.
“She had two brothers—who I’ve never met. Being the youngest, with a mostly absent mother, she had to fend for herself a lot. They were cash poor and property rich, so when her mother died, she inherited a lot of property. Most she sold, then blew. So now she hoards what little she has left. She dates rich men and she keeps up with plastic surgery—paid for by the rich men.”
“And you don’t blame her.” Hunter wasn’t asking a question, he was making a statement.
I shrugged. “I do, in some ways. But she’s a product of her childhood. I’ve stopped trying to understand my mother, and blaming her won’t change who I am now.”
“And you?”
I followed his pointed finger to the path on the left. “I’m my father’s daughter. And he was a very loving, giving man. I was an accident. My mom didn’t want my dad—he wasn’t rich or anything. Handsome, but that’s about it. She was having fun, and the fun caught up with her.”
“And he passed a few years ago, correct?”
“Right after I got accepted to Stanford, yes. I’ve never seen him more proud.” Tears blurred my vision, as I remembered his beaming smile even though he was pretty sick with cancer at that point. “He always told me that I was his life’s treasure. That he hadn’t known what love was until I was put into his arms. I miss him.”