by Amy Rose
“Oh why not?” He smiles and then opens his mouth. I move the fork towards his mouth and pop it in, he moans appreciatively.
“Mmm, that’s tasty.” He then forks some cheesecake and holds it up to me. “Try some cheesecake?”
I nod and open my mouth. He gently places the fork inside my mouth, and I pull the cheesecake off with my teeth. It is also delicious and creamy. “Yummy, we both chose well.” I smile at him and lick my lips. I then giggle like a schoolgirl. I feel better when he, too, breaks into a fit of laughter.
The male attendant who showed us to our seats walks along the aisle to collect our finished plates and cups, and offers us both a bottle of water. “Would you like a glass of wine or beer?” he asks. I mumble that I am okay with the water. Elliot too declined the alcohol.
“How are you feeling?” He asks when he has turned his attention back to me.
“I’m okay for a minute. How much longer is the flight?” I ask, beginning to regret my decision to enjoy the dessert from earlier on.
He glances at his watch. “We should be landing shortly, you’re nearly there.” He grabs my hand and gives it a quick squeeze. He doesn’t release my hand for the remainder of the flight.
As we are descending, I grip his hand tightly. He bends down beside to whisper in my ear, “Not long now, baby.” I just nod in response. There was that word again, baby. Once again no one was around to hear him address me that way. Maybe he had feelings for me? I will have to pay attention to our interactions over this weekend.
I feel the jump of the plane when we touch the tarmac with a bump. I must have almost driven my fingernails into Elliot’s hand; and all the while he never released me. Three more bumps and we are now safely on the ground. “I’m so sorry about your hand Elliot, I hope I didn’t hurt you.” I look at him, meeting his eyes, slightly frowning at him.
“I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me at all. You made it. See? We got through it together.” He smiles at me and with his free hand strokes my cheek. He is so gentle.
Oh well, it’s time to get off the plane and onto the next adventure. Like he was reading my mind, Elliot speaks. “Once we get off the plane, we will grab our luggage and head out to the pick-up area. Price has a car waiting for us. Then it’s time to go home.”
I blink at him twice, surely, he could read my mind. “Can you read my mind Elliot?” I ask. He laughs in response. Not just a polite laugh, but a real belly laugh. I couldn’t help but laugh, too.
After a few minutes he responds. “No Angie. I can’t read your mind, but it’s interesting to know you were thinking about my house. Just wait till you see it!” He sounds like a proud father, like he can’t wait to introduce me to his pride and joy.
We pull our luggage from the overhead locker. I insert my book back into my bag, never having given it a second throughout the entire flight. At least it would be handy for the trip home. We exit the plane and make our way to the baggage claim. All of the passengers had gathered here and it was quite crowded. Like everyone else we wait for approximately twenty minutes for our bags to make their way around the snakelike conveyer belt. I see mine first and grab it. Elliot has to wait a little longer. He sees one bag first, which he collects and drops beside our feet, and then his second bag makes its way toward us a couple of minutes later.
With our bags now in hand, we walk the short distance to the pick-up area. More people are gathered around here, some getting into taxis, others embracing loved ones who are here to collect them. I notice one young girl run into the arms of a waiting young man. They hug and kiss quite passionately. A long-awaited reunion, perhaps. I drag my eyes away from them and just like Elliot said, there Price is, a few cars down, standing next to a black car with a small sign that read ‘Sands & White.’ I couldn’t help but silently laugh to myself. It was helpful to me of course as I wasn’t sure I would have recognized him, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that Elliot was rolling his eyes. Of course he would know what Price looked like. As we got closer, I notice that the car was indeed a black Mercedes SUV. I’m not into cars but I can identify most logos. Mercedes doesn’t really do it for me, but Sandra at work had a Mercedes, a red coupe.
We take the last couple of steps towards our destination. “Mr. Sands, Miss White, I hope you had an enjoyable flight.” He nods at each of us when he says our name. It just occurred to me, Price dropped us off at the airport in Nashville and now he was here waiting with the car.
“Mr. Price, how did you get here before us?” Elliot glances at me and then back at Price and nods at him, as if giving him the okay to reply to me. Why would Price need to be given the okay to speak? He must be a regular employee of Elliot’s, and not just a chauffeur.
“I caught the same flight you just did, Miss White.” he gives me a tiny smile. “Let me get your luggage for you.” He makes his way towards us and grabs our bags. He then places them into the trunk and opens the door for me to hop in.
It was easy to tell why this car was so expensive. It was lovely. The inside smelled new, the leather was soft and the windows were darkly tinted. So much so that it would be impossible for someone to look through the window and see me staring out at them. Elliot hops in beside me and then takes my hand in his. “Ready to go?” he asks with a huge smile across his face.
I inhale a quick breath and answer with my own smile plastered across my lips. “Let’s do it.”
~ Chapter Seventeen ~
Mr. Price took his position in the driver’s seat of the SUV. Once he had fixed his seatbelt in place, he turns to face us. “Are we going straight to Sands Manor sir?” obviously directing his question to Elliot.
“Indeed we are, Price” he answers. Nodding once to indicate he had heard Elliot, he turns back around in his seat and starts the engine. Elliot’s home has a name, that’s totally something rich people do. Sands Manor though. His office building was Sands Tower, obviously not a lot of thought went in to naming both of his properties.
Sands Manor did have a certain ring to it. It sounded fancy, not that I had expected anything less. I have found that when you have a certain amount of money, you tend to lead a certain lifestyle. After all I am sitting in the back seat of his fancy car right now.
Over the past couple of days, I have been giving some thought about where Elliot might live, whether he resided in a spacious condo in Manhattan, a brownstone close to Fifth Avenue, or even a house out in the suburbs. As a real estate agent, I have access to certain databases which allow me to see which suburbs are more expensive than others. Therefore, I knew that when we arrived at our destination I would have at least a little bit of an idea as to how much the property would be worth. Of course, different states are completely different markets from Nashville and during my time living in New York I wasn’t practicing real estate. I had only studied it. I decided to just wait and see and let it be a total surprise, mainly due to the fact that I didn’t care where he lived, or how much money the property was worth. What mattered was that for the next couple of days, I would be spending time with him.
Even though the back seat of the Mercedes provided ample room, we sit quite close. Elliot held my hand in his, stroking my thumb absentmindedly with his own. I enjoyed the feel of his hand in mine, the warmth of his skin against my own, the tingly feelings it sent through my body. It has been such a long time since I had allowed a man to touch me. At one stage I never thought I would allow anyone to touch me again. At least not in this way.
Liam was there for me in those early days; he was the one who encouraged me to move out to Nashville. Many nights during those twelve months that we lived together were spent at his apartment just watching movies and eating delicious homemade food. I recovered, so to speak, while living with Liam. It also helped having somewhere to stay while I saved for my own apartment. Liam respected my privacy and he never asked me to talk about what had happened with Dylan, even though some nights were spent with me crying into his chest, while he held me close. Never once did I feel uncomfortable. I felt s
afe with him, especially knowing that he only felt about me the same I felt for him. Friendship, the kind that you know will last forever. The kind of friend you know who will always be there for you. And so we have been.
Around three months after I moved to Nashville, I secured a job at a local real estate firm, the same one where I still sell real estate today. I had also made a couple of friends. James, who I work with, is just like Liam. Easy to talk to and not pushy at all, he still to this day has never put the hard word on me, besides asking me on numerous dates. When I say no, he just accepts it and I love them both for that.
A few months later Liam met Jessica and they got serious pretty quickly. He would often apologize for leaving me alone so much, but I didn’t mind at all. I was overjoyed to see him happy. After all, Liam is my best friend in the entire world since school, even if that meant watching them be all lovey dovey, all the damn time. I started to believe that one day I might be happy again. When I might meet that special person. I always believed it to be a long way in the future, though.
So here I am, three-and-a-half years later, back in New York City. This time my hand being held by a gentleman. And I’ll admit, it feels nice. I don’t feel like I am in danger at all. Instead, I feel safe. I don’t know if this is going to end up going anywhere. It does, however, show me that a male could hold my hand and it’s not the end of the world. I can have my hand in his without fear, fear that a simple hand hold would turn into my finger getting pulled back and broken or my hand getting squeezed in a vice-like grip causing extreme pain. At least now because of Liam, James, and Elliot, I am starting to understand and realize that not all men are jackasses. It was early days, though, and I am about to be completely alone with someone I hardly know.
I look up from our intertwined hands to his face. To my luck, he was looking out the window and would not catch me checking him out. He is very handsome, probably the most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on. His blond hair is slightly unruly, his cheekbones and chin appear to have been carved from stone, his lips are perfect and soft, his eyes are the color of the ocean when I stare into their depths. He is perfect in every way, and here I am, feeling like plain Jane sitting next to him.
Feeling my gaze upon him he turns his face slowly to look at me, and with that, interrupting my gazing session. “We’re only about twenty-five minutes from my home, depending on traffic..”
“I’m looking forward to seeing when you live, Elliot.”
His answering smile was breathtaking. “You are?” he replied, looking like a child who had just been told he could go nuts in a candy store,
“Of course I am. I’ve been thinking about it, actually.” I offer him a shy smile and give his hand a small squeeze.
“You have?” His voice held question as well as statement. I simply nodded at him and I bit my bottom lip slightly. I felt nervous, he seemed surprised at my admittance.
I felt the need to change the subject a little. “Should we stop at a supermarket to collect some groceries for dinner?”
His smile returns to his face before replying. “We don’t need to. I have someone to cook for us this weekend.” It looked like he was enjoying his own private joke. I couldn’t help but tease him a little. It could also provide some further information about the way this man lives.
“Just this weekend? Or every weekend?”
He grins at me and nods. “Every weekend, I’m not much of a cook, personally. How about you Angela? Can you cook?”
I didn’t even consider telling him I was a fantastic cook. Instead I come up with the perfect response, I decide to give a little bit of personal information away “I know a few recipes, my friend Liam is a chef so I have learned a few things from him.”
His smile starts fading from his face. “Is Liam your boyfriend, Angela?” He asks. His tone serious. No trace of a smile remaining on his face. Instead, his features seemed to go completely blank, almost expressionless.
“No, he is definitely not my boyfriend. He is actually engaged to Jessica, who is a lovely lady. Liam and I have known each other since grade school. He moved to Nashville after we graduated high school. When I left New York I moved in with him for a little while, before buying my own apartment. I have actually just sold Liam and Jess their first place together” I don’t know why I felt the need to disclose this information to him. Maybe it was due to him asking me if Liam was my boyfriend.
“Oh good,” he spoke, with slight relief evident in his voice. I did notice though that his face was no longer expressionless, instead it was calming. He seems to be happy with my answer.
With this subject now on the table, I asked the question that has been burning inside me since he took that phone call the other night at dinner. Why not get this out in the open? “Is the lady who looked at the cottage for you your girlfriend?” I asked.
The skin around his eyes crinkled ever so slightly and a small smile appeared on his lips. “No, Kat is my assistant. She is also married to one of my best friends. I don’t have a girlfriend, Angela.” I release a breath I don’t realize I have been holding. That is good news indeed. “Do you have a boyfriend?” I notice that he is looking at me from the corner of his eye. Not willing to look at my face directly.
“Nope, I’m single…now. Have been for going on four years now.” This caught his attention. He turns to face me now, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. He also slips his fingers through mine and brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles twice.
“Maybe we might be off the market by the end of this weekend?” I couldn’t help but also hear the almost questioning tone in that statement, or maybe I was hearing what I wanted to. He had to be referring to us, didn’t he? Then the self-doubt sets in. He couldn’t mean me. He surely could have any woman he wanted: models, film stars, celebrities. He probably already has had them before I came along. I’m not going to get my hopes up. I decide it is best to leave his statement unanswered.
The next twenty minutes we travel in silence, and those minutes pass quite quickly, we are out of the main area of New York, passing through the outskirts of the city, making our way to the outer suburbs. I look out the window when I noticed we are approaching a sign. As we get closer I am finally able to read the calligraphy ‘Welcome to Greenwich.’ Of course Elliot lived in one of the most exclusive and affluent suburbs outside of New York.
I don’t have much time to ponder that, though. I can see the lot sizes are now larger, as are the homes that were sitting on those parcels of land. Some of the homes look like hotels, large and spread out. Many of them have stone walls along the road.
We have a few large homes in Nashville, and like here in New York they are out in the suburbs. The people who can afford them are mainly country music superstars the likes of Keith Urban and his actress wife Nicole Kidman. Also Faith Hill and her husband Tim McGraw have a home there. Mind you, I have never seen them in the whole time I’ve called Nashville home, besides in concert, anyway.
We are slowing down now. I feel the car turn, as we enter a driveway. On either side of the drive stood two imposing brick pillars, an ornate gate joining the two together. As the car drove closer they begin opening. As we pass through the gate, I peer out through the front windshield. The lawns are beautifully manicured, as are the garden beds. An ancient oak tree provides shade on the left hand side of the drive, its branches the size of some of the other trees’ trunks, leaves aplenty, moving gently in the wind, casting dancing shadows on the ground beneath.
We drive slowly along the driveway. Up ahead I catch sight of two more brick pillars, identical to those we’ve just passed through; no gate was linking the two, instead they provided an opening, just large enough for a car to pass through on the way toward the house.
A six-foot brick wall hugs the outskirts of the home, giving a certain amount of privacy. Although calling it a home is an understatement. As we pass through the second pillars, the house comes into full view. There stands the most beautiful two-story home I have
ever seen. It reminds me ever so slightly of a fairy-tale castle, one you expect a princess to appear from. It is red brick with timber window frames, all of which appear to be oversized. As my eyes take the sight in, moving upwards towards the sky I notice two chimneys rising from the tiled roof, one on either side.
The car slows to a complete stop just outside the front door. It is painted a gorgeous duck egg blue hue and is encased in a brick archway that protrudes a good two feet farther forward from the remainder of the home. Elliot squeezes my hand gently. I tear my attention away from his home to face him. His face wore an almost nervous expression, licking his lips once he speaks. “Welcome to my home, Angela.”
~ Chapter Eighteen ~
Once the car has come to a complete standstill, Elliot exits the car, walking around to open my own door for me. I accept the offer of his outstretched hand and step out of the vehicle. Looking around, I am still drinking in the sight of this beautiful, historic house in front of me. “It makes total sense now.”
“What does, Angela?”
Turning back to face him. “It’s no wonder you fell in love with the home back in Nashville,” I whisper focusing my complete attention of the beautiful blue of his eyes.
Continuing to hold my eye contact, Elliot smiles. “Just wait until you see the inside. Price, please bring our bags into the house.” He offers his hand to me and I place mine in his without even thinking and together we make our way a few steps across the paved driveway to the front door.
We are closing in on the entrance, and approximately two steps away from the front door when a mature man with white hair and a kind face answers the door. “Welcome home Mr. Sands.” He smiles warmly at us both “Miss White it is lovely to meet you. Welcome to Sands Manor.”
I can’t help but smile at him. “Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you too. You have me at a disadvantage though. It seems that Elliot has provided you with my name, however I don’t know yours.”
