“Yep.”
“I’ve officially seen it all.”
I giggle and shake my head, my eyes surveying the back yard. “I wonder where that toilet is supposed to go?”
“I’m assuming that the rose garden isn’t the right answer,” he says and leads me back inside and upstairs, where we find the home of the toilet now living with the roses, along with a dead squirrel. “Someone had a campfire going in here.” I follow Pete into one of the bedrooms and stare at the perfect circle of rocks and burned wood in the center of the room. “They left the sticks they used to roast marshmallows.”
“Or, you know, body parts, because this place has the vibe of a serial killer’s house.” I laugh, but I’m not really kidding.
This place gives me a serious case of the willies.
By the time we reach the master bedroom, I can’t take any more. “Are those shackles on the wall?” I ask quietly, on the verge of tears. This isn’t fun anymore. It’s scary.
“They are.”
“I think you should call the police before you call the realtor.” There’s another toilet, just sitting against the wall, not actually hooked up to anything. The carpet was ripped out, exposing just the sub-floor. There is no hardwood.
“Let’s go.” He wraps an arm around me and leads me down and out of the house and to my car, but I’m not ready to drive. We both stand outside as Pete dials the cops and tells them what we discovered, then calls the other realtor and gives him the same report, along with a tongue lashing for not inspecting the property before listing it.
When he hangs up, my nerves have calmed enough for me to drive, but we’re quiet on the way back to Pete’s office.
“I’m so sorry about that,” he says softly and wipes his hand over his mouth. “That’s not only unprofessional, but so disturbing. I never would have taken you there if I’d known, Cal.”
“I know.” I nod and then shiver when I think of those shackles on the wall. “I wonder what happened there?”
“It’s probably best if you don’t think about it.”
“Right.” I pull up to his office and turn to face him. “Thanks for your time today, Pete.”
“Anytime. We’ve just started looking. We’ll find you something.”
“I know.”
“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”
The question is blurted out and I have to blink at him for several seconds, trying to catch up. “Dinner?”
“I’d really like to take you out, Callie.”
“Well, I—” All I can think is, you have three kids, and I’m so not ready to date a guy who comes as a boxed set.
“Just dinner.” He holds his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “We’ll just catch up a bit. No pressure.”
Well, it is nice to see an old friend, and really, what could a simple dinner hurt?
“Okay. Sure.”
“Great.” He grins and opens his door. “I’ll call you tonight and we’ll make plans.”
“Talk to you later.” I wave and smile, then pull away and shake my head. This has been the weirdest day I’ve had in a very long time.
Chapter Five
Callie
“He’s sure here a lot over the past few weeks,” Adam says as he pours a beer next to me. “Even on his days off.”
I simply shrug and finish cutting a lime, then grab another. It’s been two weeks since my night with Declan, and in that time, he’s shown up before closing to walk me to my car almost every night. We’ve slipped into an easy camaraderie with each other, and rather than wait outside to scare the shit out of me, he just comes inside to wait.