He put his foot back up onto the pedal thingy while turning the throttle with his hand, and we were off again, setting off through the gate and straight up my driveway, coming to a stop next to my car—which somehow had magically appeared.
Though, really, I knew it was Randi.
Her and her husband likely were responsible for it, and I made a mental note to thank the both of them tomorrow.
I’d do it today, but I had a feeling we were about to be very busy.
He shut off the bike and stared up at the house, his jaw going slack as he took it in.
“It’s big,” he murmured, holding his hand out for me to take.
I did, sweeping my leg off of the bike and staring up at the house, trying to see what he saw.
I didn’t know what he saw, though.
I’d been coming to this house for my entire twenty-nine years of life, and I didn’t see it as anything but home anymore.
“How many rooms does this place have?”
I gestured for him to follow me while placing the helmet on the seat he’d just vacated, and he fell in step beside me as I started to explain.
“This is what they call a Colonial,” I murmured. “It has thirteen bedrooms. There are eight bathrooms, a kitchen, two living room areas, two formal dining rooms, a ballroom, and an indoor pool,” I explained.
“Did the pool come original with the house?” he asked as I led him around the side of the house.
I used the back entrance instead of the front.
Mainly because I had to walk all the way through the house to get to the kitchen, and usually had groceries of some form or fashion.
Not to mention my great-grandmother always used to use this door, so it seemed only proper that I used it, too.
“No,” I fished my keys out of my purse. “The pool was added during my GG’s time here. She moved out a few years ago, and now she lives in the little row house next to the lake.”
“There’s a lake?” he turned his head to search behind him.
“Yes,” I pushed the door open and led him inside, hearing him close the door securely behind me. “It’s beyond the trees that you see at the end of the lawn.”
“Who mows this place?” he asked.
I started to snicker.
“That would be me,” I said. “Every Saturday that I’m off.”
“When are you not off?” he asked as he looked around. “I haven’t actually seen you work yet.”
I knew what he was asking.
How the hell did I afford a place like the one I was currently living in.
“My great-grandmother was one of the original Cassidy Winemakers in Mooresville County,” I started to explain.
His eyes closed, and he started to nod.
“That explains the CW on the gate,” he surmised.
I smiled softly.
“When my great-grandmother died, she left my GG this place, and me a sizeable trust fund that I was able to access four years ago.” I walked to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Want any?”
His brows rose, but he nodded anyway.
“What?” I asked.
“That bottle looks old,” he murmured.
“My GG and great-grandmother were wine connoisseurs. You can’t expect a person, such as my grandmother and great-grandmother, to not have wine just lying around the house.”
“Touché.”
I nodded firmly and handed him the bottle and the corkscrew.
He took it deftly, easily removing the cork and handing it back to me.
I placed two glasses in front of him, and he poured them not halfway like most would, but all the way up to the top.
“You know me already,” I giggled. “I thought it was only Randi and me who didn’t waste any time or effort when it came to wine. It’s good to see you have the same thought processes.”
He winked.
“The house?” he reminded me.
“My GG gave it to me three years ago when she moved out, although I’ve been living here for most of my life.”
He nodded silently.
“Your grandmother or great-grandmother ever have any men here?” he questioned. “This is a big ass place for someone like you to run on your own.”
“Yep,” I confirmed. “Though my grandfather’s health declined to where he couldn’t help in the later years. They hired a caretaker who came out once a month to do any major repairs before he passed.”
He winced, and then picked up a vase, causing me to giggle. “That’s my paternal grandmother.”
He set it down and backed away.
I snorted.
“I know you’re wondering why my mother didn’t get this place,” I said. “And I’ll go ahead and appease that curiosity. My mother is a squanderer. She’s selfish and greedy, and that sets her up for failure which is why she is barely holding onto her wedding planning business by the skin of her teeth.”
“Teeth don’t have skin…” he looked up to study the kitchen cabinets. “And your place really needs a complete remodel.”
I snorted.
“Yep,” I confirmed. “It needs one yesterday, but I don’t have time. I work full-time for the newspaper, and when I’m not working, I’m trying to keep my mother’s business in line, and stop the whole thing from imploding.”
“You don’t have any time for you?” he tilted his head to study me.
He was now leaning against my GG’s china cabinet, and I realized how out of place he looked in front of it.
“I blow.”
He blinked.
“That’s good news, I guess,” he drawled.
I snickered and went back out the kitchen door, and straight to the small workroom that I used to do my hobby.
“This,” I said, pushing open the door, “is where I blow glass.”
He looked around the room, studying everything.
“That’s amazing,” he finally said. “Did you make this?”
He picked up a hummingbird feeder the color of blood, and I picked up its twin.
“There are a lot of imperfections,” I admitted. “And yes, I did make it.”
He fingered the small stem that was where the hummingbird would feed when it was hung.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” he finally murmured. “I’ve always looked at these things and wondered how it was done. Will you show me?”
I smiled.
“Yes.” I placed the feeder back on the shelf. I had to ship them out tomorrow evening. “But not tonight. Tonight, I want to eat, kick back on the couch and watch our movie. I’m exhausted.”
“Why are you so tired?” he asked. “I’m not saying that you didn’t kick ass at catching all those Pokémon, but you have bags under your eyes that look like you haven’t slept in days.”
I fingered said bags.
“It’s rained the last three mornings in a row, and in the newspaper business, that’s not a good thing,” I told him. “People call and complain about the stupidest things, but when it’s raining, it’s a relentless stream of calls that never ends.”
He took my hand in his, and then led me back to the house.
“You can give me a tour of the rest of your mansion. Then you can show me what you have to cook, while you go find us something to watch on TV and I cook it,” he murmured as he pulled me along behind him. “Then we can have a Netflix and chill kind of night.”
I rolled my eyes. “Netflix and chill doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
He looked at me over his shoulder.