Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You’re not mad?”
“How could I be mad?” He shrugged. “I mean, I bet it’s in a great neighborhood, safe, older, with nice neighbors who will look out for them. They’re probably scared of three college-age boys moving in, but little do they know it’s Kola and Harper.”
“And Jake.”
“Jake’s the only one to worry about, but you know, he’ll find his trouble somewhere else. Not at home. I bet you they’ll decorate, and God knows what Jake will do with the lighting.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He walked over, and I was hugging him again. I suspected that I would need to be in his arms for days.
Kola’s sweet little house on a tree-lined street in Professorville, a historic neighborhood dating back to the 1890s, was in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Palo Alto. I looked up other houses in the area, saw the price tags worth millions, and if I didn’t know before, I definitely knew then. The distance to campus from the house was an easy bike ride or scooter ride, so if they didn’t want to get a car, it wasn’t necessary. They could also get to Highway 101, from which they could head north to San Francisco or south to San Jose. It was perfect, and I was so happy with how safe and cozy it looked.
When Aaron returned from Los Angeles, we invited him out to dinner to what I knew was his favorite Italian place, Riccardo Trattoria, on Clark Street. We were there first, waiting at the bar, and when Aaron and Duncan reached us, Sam immediately stepped into Aaron’s space and hugged him.
“Well,” Aaron choked out, hugging Sam back, clearly overwhelmed. “I don’t know what I did to receive this greeting, but I could get used to this.”
Sam hugged tighter, Aaron squinted so he wouldn’t cry, and Duncan was beaming. Funny to think back a million years ago to when Sam Kage and Aaron Sutter were not friends. Strange to even imagine now.
Thursday night, there was a knock at the front door, and when I answered, there was a man on my porch I’d never seen in my life. If I had to guess at his age, I would think late twenties, but really, I was a terrible judge. When he saw me, he smiled, and it was both warm and wicked at the same time. He looked like trouble to me.
“Hello,” I greeted him.
“Mr. Harcourt?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Erik Dahl. I work for Rick Jenner, and he sent me over to give Hannah an update on her Mindi Bisbee situation.”
“Oh, the lady suing her.”
“That’s right,” he replied smoothly.
He was, without a doubt, a very handsome man. His ash-blond hair was streaked with gold, and his lashes and stubble were the same shade. He was tan, but not, I was guessing, from being outside. I was betting it was his normal coloring. Taller than me, but a lot of men were, and he was dressed casually, but purposely artful at the same time. He had on vintage jeans and harness boots, but on top there was a dress shirt, rolled up his forearms, and a vest over that and a loosened tie. He was somewhere between office chic and out-of-work poet. I was betting that, between the sexy smirk and the hair that he kept pushing his fingers through and the swagger, lots of people followed him home.
“She’s out back,” I told him but didn’t invite him in. I really didn’t want to, but good manners took over. “Please come with me.”
He followed me through the living room to the kitchen and out through the laundry room to the back deck. Hannah was lifting Dobby up, as she did often, above the fences in our backyard, showing him all the things he normally didn’t see, being a Chihuahua.
“B!” I called, and when she saw me and Erik, she put Dobby down and darted over.
“Hey,” she greeted him warmly, rushing forward to offer him her hand.
When had they met face-to-face? She had called him Rick Jenner’s guy before. But what was I thinking? Of course they’d met, and talked. Probably over coffee or something. Yet another example that I was not completely involved in my children’s lives anymore. I felt a bit bereft.
He took her hand in his, and his smile, for her, was different than what I’d been given. There were dimples, and his clear blue eyes sparkled, and he looked altogether better. I saw what he hid beneath his normal smooth, slick façade. Clearly, he was entranced with her. I needed to know everything about this man.
Hannah took a breath, realizing suddenly—I was guessing—that they were still holding hands. “Please sit and tell me what you found out.”
He gave her hand a final squeeze, let it go, and they took seats on opposite sides of our picnic table. I noted that neither of them had one word for me.