Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Not good enough. I don’t like that lack of rear fencing at all. Definitely going to need motion sensors and big floodlights outside.”
“I can show you what’s there now.” With a last look for his hideaway, we headed back down to the first floor and through the entryway into a formal living area with a more finished feel than the rest of the house. Daniel stopped long enough to gesture at the overstuffed gold couches and ornate wall mirrors. “These furnishings came with the house. Part of the staging to sell it, I’m sure, but I liked the big mirrors and old Hollywood feel.”
“Yeah, it does have that feel. Anyone famous live here?”
“Besides me?” Little smile playing on his lips, he strode ahead into the kitchen. “That’s the neat part of the house’s history. The original owner was a scriptwriter. You wouldn’t know the name, but he wrote many early classic romantic comedies. He never married and lived here for decades with his best friend, a well-known character actor.”
“Cool.” If Daniel was waiting for me to take issue with him owning what sounded like a piece of gay history, he’d have to work harder to shock me. “Bet they had some fun parties.”
“Actually, no.” He leaned against the counter. “They were more homebodies. Private. That was what drew me in. It’s a house you live in, not a place to party.”
“Good choice. Distancing yourself from the party lifestyle is smart.” Like Duncan, I wasn’t sure I trusted the changes to stick, but I had to credit the guy for trying.
“I’m not so sure about smart.” He ran a hand down the expanse of the granite countertop. “It’s a lot of house. It was a pretty big impulse purchase, really. But you’re right. I couldn’t go back to my old lifestyle.”
“Yup. Bad friends have a way of ruining even the best of intentions.”
“Personal experience?” Considering me more closely, he tilted his head.
“My folks run with a rough crowd. Every few years, they’ll get on the wagon, but their friends…” I shrugged because Daniel didn’t need all the gory details. “Friends make sure it never sticks.”
“I’m sorry.” Unlike the empty sorry most people offered when they heard even a watered-down version of my childhood, Daniel made the apology seem more personal, eyes going soft and forehead creasing like it physically pained him. “That’s why I had to cut my old life loose. I knew most of my crowd would just suck me back into old habits.”
“You did the right thing.” I liked how even the smallest bit of approval made him puff up. While he preened, my stomach growled, and I moved over to where the produce box sat. “We should eat something before you show me the outside.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m always forgetting to eat.” He offered me a sheepish smile. “But we’ve got the fruit. You want a smoothie? I’m good at smoothies.”
“Sure.” I nodded. Actually, I wanted something more filling, preferably with bacon involved, but he looked so earnest. “You have any protein powder?”
“Yup, I have a really good one. Vegan and macrobiotic. This one supermodel talked about it changing her life on a talk show, so I had to try.”
“I see.” Personally, I didn’t need model-level fancy, but if it made Daniel happy, I could try. And he was cute, puttering around and finding a blender that probably cost more than my first car, fetching ice and lining up fruits and jars of powders.
“I’ve been working for months on the perfect smoothie recipe.” He attempted to slice a peach in the air, and I quickly grabbed a cutting board from a rack near the gleaming sink
“Awesome. Mind the knife.”
“Right. Sorry.” Face falling, he looked so disappointed in himself that I patted his shoulder.
“No problem. Want me to find glasses?”
“Yes, please. And straws. They’re in a drawer.” He pointed, and I had to smile. Something about the straw request was charming.
Sweet. That was it. Daniel was sweet. But not in the wholesome apple pie sort of sanitized perfection sense. More like these blackberries we had at the back of our property growing up, sweetest damn things I ever tasted, growing out of all those brambles and weeds. Sweet against all odds. That was Daniel.
“I know you told the cops you don’t have exes or enemies. But what about those former friends?” I asked before he could start the blender. “Anyone mad at you?”
“Nah.” He raised one slim shoulder. “No one misses me that much.”
He hovered a finger over the Start button on the blender, and I quickly grabbed the lid on the counter.
“Don’t forget the lid!”
“Oops. I’m not used to having an audience.” He bit the corner of his mouth.
“It’s okay.” I handed him the black piece of plastic, and when our fingers brushed, the hair on my arm prickled. I had no clue what to make of that and focused instead on the whir of the blender.