Page 37 of Winning Winnie’s Hand

“One thing,” she said, leaning forward. “I’m Winnie-Freakin’-Knox.”

She stared into his eyes, unfaltering, willing him to see how serious she was. He didn’t respond, though a strange twinkling shone in his eye. Was he amused? Impressed? She couldn’t tell. Either way, it was time to make her exit through the door.

And yet, just as soon as her hand touched the doorknob, she remembered…she didn’t know how to open the flipping thing.

She wiggled the handle down, then up, trying to mimic what Matthew had done, but the door remained closed. She could not have been more humiliated.

In a desperate attempt to escape, she jiggled the handle with more ferocity, but Matthew’s hand grasped lightly around her bare wrist, stopping her abruptly. She stared at his long, masculine fingers, their warmth radiating through her skin and up her arm as her heart thrummed uncomfortably against her chest.

She shouldn’t be feeling this way. She should be feeling nothing at all. And yet, heat swirled through her body like a whirlwind of fire, uncontrollable. All-consuming.

Did Matthew feel the same way?

Slowly, her gaze trailed up his flowing shirt before settling on his features. His eyes were already on her, deep and focused and unreadable.

The two of them stood close together, closer than she’d realized, and as they stared at each other, an undeniable energy passed between them.

Yes, he was feeling something, too. But neither of them should be. They were work associates, perhaps even enemies, the majority of their interactions filled with scathing words and scowls. And yet, all of those moments seemed to disappear as they stood before each other in silence.

Winnie swallowed, her throat growing dry. There was nothing more she wanted to do in that moment than to lick her lips to provide them some moisture.

No, that was a lie. There was something she wanted to do more.

With no further control over her sight, she felt her eyes drop to his lips, those perfect, masculine, appealing lips, and she stared at them until they moved.

“Up, then down,” he said, his voice gruff.

She blinked. Up, down, what? What was he talking about?

Finally, he released his grasp around her wrist and wrapped his fingers around the door handle instead. His hand moved up, then down, and the door opened.

He stood back, creating more distance between them. “Your door, Miss Winnie-Freakin’-Knox.”

A blush burned within her cheeks so deeply, she could have heated all of Foxwood with the fire radiating from them.

Without another look at him—or his lips—she entered the house, wiped her feet on the rug, and moved swiftly across the front hall, desperate to leave behind the fool she’d made of herself and the man who’d caused her to do so in the first place.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“And how is our little consultant doing?”

Winnie grimaced. She’d been dreading this moment for days now, talking to her family about being schlepped with a mediocre faire instead of a grand estate. They’d be embarrassed. Dad would be ashamed. It’d be a whole big thing.

She may as well get this over with.

“Oh, I’m doing great, Dad. Thanks.” Huh. She hadn’t shared as much as she was planning on. Oh, well.

Taking advantage of her day off, Winnie had gone to church that morning, then wandered around Grassington—the gorgeous village near Foxwood—where she’d ultimately found a nearby park to enjoy. There, she sat outside on a bench in the middle of the large, grassy fields, enjoying the first sunshine she’d felt since arriving in Yorkshire.

She didn’t mind rain or clouds, or the hush they brought over the land. But she couldn’t deny how incredible a good, English sunshine felt on her cooled skin.

The fields around her were filled with soccer players kicking balls in the air, dogs chasing after sticks, and families seated on picnic blankets with their lunches spread about them. Did these people know how lucky they were to live in such a location? It was so different from New York. So quaint. So peaceful. So perfect.

“Are you taking charge and making changes?” Dad pressed, his voice glitching on the video call.

“Yep,” Winnie responded simply again, adjusting the earbuds in her ears.

Maybe if she only gave short answers, he’d take the hint and focus on someone else.