I sit my dishes down in the sink, my mind sorting through my last conversation with Wade.
“Your architect needs to know how you’re going to use your space. What you value. The things in life you prioritize. They need to know your dreams.”
“Hmm …”
I meander through my house, flipping on each light as I go. The eat-in kitchen leads into a living room that’s just off the foyer. A long hallway extends the other direction with a closet, a bathroom, two small bedrooms with a bathroom and the master suite.
I stop in the hallway and rest against the wall to think.
This house is really all I need. It’s also really all that I want.
It’s also my last connection to my mother since it was hers.
I’m sure I won’t live here forever but, for now, it’s perfect—for me and for my heart.
That’s the thought that keeps popping in my brain every time I think about building something new. Something bigger. Something Bowery-worthy.
Sure, the office is a little small and the window is shaped like a porthole. It’s charming. The guest room is crammed with my mother’s things but I kind of like having it all close by—even if it is in boxes. I don’t really need a dining room since I don’t have tons of friends and people in my house makes me anxious anyway. And the butler’s pantry that Rusti is convinced that I need … I don’t. I don’t even know what I would do with it.
This home is cozy. It feels like a hug when I walk in at the end of the day. The sun fills the house and makes it feel less lonely.
“And there’s a tree for a key,” I say, laughing. I lean my head against the wall, my heart aching again. “I really love this house. I’ll hate to leave it.”
But leaving it feels like the only way to go forward. And the opportunity that my grandfather is presenting me with this new house—because it is an opportunity, even if it feels so wonky to me—is a door opening.
I just have to walk through it.
A handsome smirk flashes before my eyes.
“That gives me some time to figure out what makes Wade Mason tick,” I say, shoving away from the wall. “That can’t be a bad thing.”
My words reverberate through my brain as I head back to the kitchen.
Famous last words.
EIGHT
DARA
“Where are you going looking so hot?” Lola, a server at Hillary’s House that I met two years ago when I started coming to the restaurant, says as she walks across the parking lot. “You should wear blue more often. Totally cute on you.”
I smooth a hand over my blouse. “Thanks. I’m trying to pull off a business but more casual with a slice of pretty on the side.” I smile. “How’d I do with those parameters?”
She laughs. “Nailed it.”
I laugh too. “Well, good, because I’m about to meet a very sinfully attractive architect and I don’t want to look too serious or too nonchalant.”
“I heard sinfully attractive. Do tell.”
Lola stops in front of me, a to-go cup dangling at her side. A breeze picks up, sending her hair flying and the edge of my eggshell-colored blouse fluttering in the air.
“I don’t have a lot to tell,” I say. “I’m working with him on a house that my grandfather thinks will solve all of my misfortunes in life.”
Lola frowns.
“Obviously, that’s not going to happen but I’m not mad about working with Wade Mason for a while to prove it.” I watch Lola’s face transform into a knowing smirk. “What?”
“Wade Mason, you say?” she asks.
“Yeah. And …”
Her shoulders sag as she pretends that her knees are wobbling. “I can confirm with every ounce of estrogen in my body that Wade Mason is, in fact, inside. He’s sitting in the back right corner wearing black pants, a denim button-up with a gray Polo sweater over it. The sun is shining on his face—making that dimpled chin look bitable.”
My laughter catches the attention of the older couple making their way to their car.
“I don’t know him—not in a friendly or Biblical way, sadly,” Lola says. “But he’s at some of the events we cater. I’ve watched him from afar many nights as he sips his cognac or handles a cigar in a way that makes me all hot and bothered.”
I giggle. “Like you are now?”
She smacks my shoulder, blushing.
“I’m not judging you,” I promise. “I was close to telling Granddad that I didn’t want to design a house at all. I took a chance last minute and showed up for the appointment and, voila—Wade Mason. So, here I am.”
“Here I’d be too.” She walks backward. “You better get in there and I better get home and wash off the olive juice I just practically bathed in.”
“Have fun with that.”
She grins. “I think you’re about to have a hell of a lot more fun than me.”
We wave goodbye and go our separate ways. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I head for the building. Chimes ring when I pull the door open and step inside.
Scents of cinnamon and coffee envelop me as I stand just inside the doorway and scan the room. It takes half a second to locate Wade. He’s right where Lola said he’d be.
Damn.
The first thing I notice is something Lola forgot to mention—he’s wearing his uber-sexy, nearly pornographic black-rimmed glasses.
My feet falter as I take him in. Why is that so hot?
Wade is pouring over a stack of papers in his hands. A cup of coffee and a glass of ice water sit in front of him. Just as I approach, he looks up.
My heart skips a beat as a look of surprise flashes across his eyes. Then just as quickly, a studiousness takes its place.
“Hi,” I say, sitting before he can get to his feet. This isn’t a date. I don’t know if he would try to pull my chair out for me or what, but it would be awkward either way. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
He drags his glasses to the tip of his nose and looks over the top of them. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or bored.
“That’s it?” he asks, catching me off guard.
I sit my purse on the chair next to me. “That it? I don’t know what you mean.”
He takes his glasses off and sets them next to his phone. A slight, barely there smile graces his lips. “I just expected something a little … more when you arrived. You never come quietly.”
“Interesting observation so early in our relationship.”
His lips twist together. His eyes narrow. A smile or a smirk or a frown—what’s to come? I don’t know. But the anticipation that I think he’s intentionally building has me shifting in my seat.
I try to play it cool by brushing a strand of hair away from my face when, in reality, a bolt of adrenaline makes it almost impossible to sit still. I lift a brow and grin.
“I’d hate to disappoint,” I say, even though I know I’m potentially playing with fire. “If you’d like me to reach over and give you a big hug, I’d be more than happy to.”
He fights against his smile growing wider.
It’s a challenge I accept.
“But I am not, under any circumstances, jumping into your arms or humping your leg,” I tease. “I have standards.”
“Let’s be glad for that.” He clears his throat, the hint of levity in his eyes now gone. “I was about to leave. I thought you’d forgotten.”