Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“You too. You must live in my old house with Asher and George and the boys.”
“Your old house?” I repeated, stuffing my hands into my pockets when a cold breeze whistled through the olive tree on his pristine lawn.
“I rented it while this place was under construction two years ago. I was traveling a lot for work at the time and I wanted to be close to the action. It’s a great place with just the right amount of spooky.”
My earlier wave of nerves at finding myself face-to-face with this sexy beast of a man dissipated in a flash, replaced by a tingle of unease.
I frowned. “Spooky? H-how?”
“You know…dark and creaky. Linc insisted he heard ghosts outside his bedroom window.”
Oh. I didn’t like ghosts. Or goblins.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He crawled into my bed every damn night for a year. Good thing I was single,” he joked.
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip and attempted a smile. “I’ve only lived there for a few weeks, but I haven’t seen any apparitions. You never heard any odd noises while you lived there, d-did you?”
“Not odd, per se. Just normal creaking and rattling. I get it here too, and this house is brand-spankin’ new.” He cocked his head and squinted. “Did I just freak you out?”
“No. Yes. I’m…going to be alone tonight. But that’s okay. I’ll be f-fine,” I said in a cheerier tone than I felt, zipping my jacket to my chin.
“Of course. Well, thank you for the cookies. I won’t keep you. It’s chilly out here and—”
“Oh, I’m not c-cold,” I lied. “And I actually have one more item on my list to discuss with you now that we have pleasantries completed.”
Mr. McSwoony grinned. “Sure thing. What is it?”
“Asher mentioned that you’re in need of assistance.”
“You mean a tutor,” he corrected. “Yes. Wow, this is my lucky night.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that, but—”
“Come on in,” he insisted, opening the door with a welcoming flourish and an irresistible grin. “You’re shivering, and it’s nice and warm in here. I’ll tell you about Linc while you help me eat these cookies.”
He mistook my hesitation as acceptance. I think. One second, he was there and the next, he was gone. But the door was still open, and I could hear him asking a question as if he assumed I was right behind him. It wasn’t like me to enter a stranger’s home on a Sunday evening—or any time, really. I felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland peering into a rabbit hole.
Of course, this was part of my mission. I’d assured my roommates I’d talk to the neighbor, and if I wanted to mark this task off my list, I had to jump in and—
“Want something to drink?” he called from inside. “I’ve got beer, wine, water…”
Well, here goes nothing.
I closed the door, shamelessly studying the cathedral ceilings and iron sconces leading into the adjacent space where artwork depicting Mediterranean beaches and cliffside homes dotted the white walls. I followed the sound of his voice, noting that he’d moved on to offer various soda, juice, and spritzer choices.
“Do you have tea?” I asked, joining him in the great room.
“Let me see what I can find.”
Mr. McSwoony muted a sporting event on the enormous flat-screen above the fireplace, then set the remote control on the sofa table before heading into the kitchen.
I cast my gaze around the open-style living area. It was a homey, inviting space with high, wood-beamed ceilings. Simple touches, like the wood plank mantel and the subtle geometric patterns on the dark-gray rug anchoring the room were eye-catching. And everything was oversized, from the television to the generous brown leather sectional to the weathered coffee table littered with a partially assembled castle made of Legos.
I turned to follow him and gasped in awe.
Wow. The kitchen was a true showstopper.
Arched details on gorgeous dark-wood cabinetry complemented the colorful Portuguese tiled backsplash. And that stove…gah! The baker in me salivated at the sight of the commercial-grade six-burner stove with a grilling section and not one, but two ovens. Two!
I couldn’t help myself. I hurried toward the stainless-steel wonder and ran my fingers along the shiny blue knobs.
“This is a work of art,” I exclaimed reverently.
Mr. McSwoony grinned, turning on the electric kettle. “It’s nice, huh? Too bad I don’t cook.”
“What? Why not? You have a child. You have reasons to make all kinds of things.”
“Maybe so, but my kid has another parent too. Linc is only here every other week and…I don’t know how to cook. That stove intimidates the hell out of me.” He pulled two boxes of tea from a drawer and set them on the marble island. “Looks like I have Earl Grey, English Breakfast, and one bag of mint tea.”
“Mint, please.”
“You got it.”
“Thank you. You could take lessons, you know. I’m sure it wouldn’t be difficult to find someone to teach you culinary basics,” I commented.