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everything I see? Where’s the line? Can I tell my family how to contact me?”
“Of course.”
She’d asked more than one question, and the litany confused him. Murdoch was a quiet, loner type. Willow was not quiet...at all.
“Of course you can tell your family the landline number, as long as they don’t abuse it or share it,” he amended. “But my home, my business, are to be kept private at all times.”
“Do I need to sign a nondisclosure agreement?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
The rapid shake of her head sent wisps of red hair flying. Man, that was gorgeous. This woman was all living color. He looked back out the windows.
“Certain rooms in the house are off-limits to everyone but me.”
“Murdoch mentioned that, but how will I know which ones they are?”
“Good God, woman, do you ever stop asking questions?”
Tate looked back at her just in time to see her blink hard. For a moment, he feared he might be facing tears, but no. Just a sad “Sorry. I guess I just want to do it right the first time.”
Man, I’m such a jerk.
Tate’s brain scrambled to rectify the situation. He heard himself say, “I’ll take you around and show you.” Until now, he’d had no intention of doing any such thing.
And the way her eyes lit up made him think what should be a simple thirty-minute walk would turn into hours of her asking questions he didn’t want to answer. “Later,” he added.
He might need to fortify himself with a drink...or two...beforehand.
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