Page 13 of Sinful Sharing

“I hate talking about myself.”

“So do I,” he says. “And you literally made me sit through an interview just now.”

Sighing, I slide onto the stool beside him. I guess it’s only fair to share something about myself. “I moved here from Colorado three years ago,” I begin.

“What brought you here?”

“A fresh start,” I reply. It’s not a lie, just not the entire truth.

He takes a bite of his sandwich, nodding. “Does your family still live there?” he asks around a mouthful of food.

“My mother passed away.” The words leave my mouth easily enough, but the emptiness that follows never does. For a few seconds, I see her smile, hear her laughter, and feel the warmth of her hand. Then the memory crashes into everything that came after. The screams. The blood. Sirens. A jail cell. I shove it all back down where it belongs.

Taylor’s expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“What about your dad?”

A humorless laugh escapes. “Never met him.”

He makes a face. “Consider yourself lucky.”

I’m sure his father’s conviction affected him negatively, but I don’t want to ask him about it, particularly because I’m eager to move away from the personal stuff. I switch the topic to something safer: the resort.

And it’s now that I see the first spark of life in Taylor’s eyes.

Ten minutes later, I find out he’d stayed up half the night searching online for information about Silver Sage. Not only that, he starts making suggestions on how Roman could attract more guests. The longer he speaks, the brighter that spark glows. Yeah, I guessed right. Law school might be a mistake.

“Roman needs to boost his digital presence,” he continues as I rise from the seat and walk over to the kitchen sink. “His website is outdated. He hasn’t posted a thing on social media in over two years. I’ve seen no partnerships with travel influencers, no guest testimonials, no seasonal promotions—nothing.”

“Yeah… Roman is old-fashioned. He still believes in organic traffic. It suited the business well years ago, but after—“

I stop myself short of mentioning what Taylor’s father did to ruin Roman’s business. I’m not sure how much Taylor knows. Plus, the last thing I want to do is upset him. I have this strange urge to put a permanent smile on his face, maybe because of how warm it made me feel.

“Well, he needs to get with the program—as my mother would say,” Taylor mutters. “Otherwise, his competition will keep dominating.”

“Are you sure about that lawyer gig?” I ask again. “It sounds like marketing might be your thing.”

“I dabbled in marketing for a while, but uh...”

“But?”

A short beat passes before he responds. “Well, I did more than dabble, actually. I worked for a non-profit company for two years. But then Mom didn’t approve of it, so I had to resign.”

The resentment in his voice is as clear as the view outside the window. I glance over my shoulder. I see it on his face. “Don’t ask,” he warns me.

In response, I gesture for his empty plate. He brings it to me but doesn’t return to his seat. He leans against the sink, staring at the snow-covered forest through the window. The spark in his eyes has completely disappeared.

And now I’m even more curious about the company he’d worked for. Why didn’t his mother approve?

After rinsing his plate, I reach across him to slide it into the dish drainer. My arm bumps against his chest. Taylor jerks, looking down at where I’d touched him.

“Did that hurt?” I tease.

He scoffs. “Don’t let that scene in the barn fool you. I’m not some fragile flower.”

My eyes sweep over his face, cataloguing those perfect features. No, not fragile, just too damn pretty. Beautiful, even. Not for the first time, I’m tempted to run my fingers through his thick hair to confirm if it’s as silky as it looks.