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exterior?”
    “The one you’ve expertly crafted to make people forget that you spent years loudly telling everyone just how far you were planning to get from this place. Funny, looks like you didn’t get quite as far as you’d hoped.”
    The flash of hurt was quick and immediately covered with narrow-eyed pique. But he saw it. And regretted that he’d caused it.
    But he shouldn’t. The fact that anything he said had the power to wound her was surprising. Although it didn’t exactly change anything.
    He moved in closer. He was tall, and as Hope was wearing heels, they were almost perfectly matched. Gage brought his mouth to the tender shell of her ear and whispered, “I know exactly who you are, Hope. Your most intimate secrets. The sound of your laughter. The smell of your favorite shampoo. How you nibbled the cap on your pen during tests. Did you know I spent years fantasizing about getting my hands on you?”
    He pulled back, studying her for some reaction, although he wasn’t exactly certain what. Maybe surprise. Or distaste. Or possibly even interest. He didn’t find any of those things, just an alert cautiousness.
    She wanted something from him. It should have felt better to be able to deny her. Just like she’d denied him so many years ago. When he’d finally gotten up the courage to tell her that all those times he’d asked her out hadn’t been a joke. That he meant it every single time and had wanted her for years. And each time she’d uttered the word no it had wounded him just a little.
    He was so close that he could see the golden flecks in her eyes. The leery burn of them. He stared straight into her and said, “Disappointment’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
    * * *
    S HE FUMED , SILENTLY , UNABLE to move away from the wall even after he’d gone. Her body shook with a combination of anger and relief.
    “Was that Gage Harper I just saw leaving?”
    Her dad walked into her office and plopped down into the chair Gage had just occupied.
    His silver-brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d either just rolled out of bed or spent the past several hours tugging at the thinning strands. Hope wanted to think that it was the latter, but she was afraid it was the former.
    Her dad had been spending less and less time at the paper in the past few years, making her life even crazier than it already was. They were a small operation, so on a good day she was CEO, bookkeeper, referee, marketing, content and traffic cop all rolled into one. Usually at once. It was amazing she didn’t get brained by one of the balls she constantly juggled.
    Which didn’t sit well with her. She’d tried to talk to him about his lack of interest but he just changed the subject or ignored her.
    She’d come home right after college, almost seven years ago, to take care of him and the paper while he recovered from cancer treatment. The surgery and the months of chemo and recovery as he regained his strength had been difficult on them both, but he had been in remission for years now.
    The problem was that while his energy had returned, his interest in the Sentinel hadn’t. She’d gently suggested he look for a buyer. But he’d gotten angry, telling her not to be silly, that it had been in their family for over a hundred years.
    What was she supposed to do? Let her family’s heritage crumble around her from neglect? She was stuck. The only way out involved getting a job that removed her from the equation completely and forced his hand.
    “Yes,” she growled, glaring at her dad.
    He did a double take, finally looking at her for the first time since he’d walked into the room.
    “Well, there’s no reason to be snippy. I just asked a simple question.”
    He was right. The person she was really angry with had already fled the scene. Taking out her frustrations on her dad wouldn’t help. Especially since they already had enough unresolved issues.
    Taking a deep breath, Hope offered, “I’m sorry,” and tried to put a smile with the