"Every day off?"
I knew he couldn't believe it because it sounded so boring, so I tried to explain. "It was more than a routine, it was a tradition. We had all sorts of traditions for those days. After the newspaper and breakfast, we went for a walk in the woods. There was a path that led all around my grandfather's property, and we'd take note of things that needed to get done. If the weather was nice, we ate a picnic lunch in the orchard. If it was raining, we sat on the front porch."
"And had magic cocoa if it rained." Landon stared at the coffee in his mug.
"Little things like that are easy to forget." I turned my attention back to the photo album. "I bet your family had them, too."
"We had traditional roles, not traditions," Landon said. "My mother was always beautiful and social, my father was always busy making money, and I was always seen but not heard."
"But they loved you and wanted you with them." I shifted the heavy album onto his knee. "When you're not in a picture, your mother has this handkerchief."
He put his coffee down and took the album with both hands. "My initials."
"And there are a dozen photos of your father making this funny face."
Landon looked where I pointed and laughed. "It made me laugh every time."
I leaned on his shoulder as he slowly flipped through the album and noticed the small gestures of love. The storm still howled outside and the fire was dying down, and our coffee was getting cold, but neither of us moved. Something in Landon was unwinding, loosening with every picture he found of a shared look or genuine smile. Sometimes he had to really search, but he found them.
"Thanks," he murmured and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Feeling warmer?" He slipped the album onto the trunk next to the silver tray and turned to me. "Now how about we do something fun? There's a full movie theater in the basement, an indoor pool shaped like a grotto complete with a waterfall—"
I held up my hand to stop him. "How about secret passages?"
Landon's laugh was warm and easy but with an edge of surprise. "You'd rather crawl through a dusty secret passage than swim in a grotto?"
"Come on." I stood up and tugged him to his feet. "It's raining and we're in this big mysterious place. The day is practically begging us to have a secret passage adventure."
He grinned but shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, Nancy Drew, but there aren't any secret passages. Just old servants’ hallways and staircases. Some have hidden entrances, but I assure you they are all very boring and mostly lead to the kitchen."
"Well, where did you go on daring adventures as a kid? This whole giant palace and there wasn't one mysterious hallway or room that you liked to explore?"
Landon scrubbed his chin, and then a sapphire glint formed in his eyes. "There is one place. Come on, I'll show you."
He pulled me toward the secret panel on the wall where the housekeeper had disappeared earlier. Hidden behind a carved leaf was a catch that he released. The door opened. Behind it, the hallway was narrow but clean and well lit. Modern recessed lighting illuminated our path as he led me along to a tight intersection.
"Where are we going?" I squeaked with excitement as he pulled me down a curving staircase. The paneled walls and carpet gave way to stone and the temperature dropped. The lighting reverted back to old wall sconces with the occasionally flickering light bulb.
"The wine cellars. Or as Andrew and I used to call them," Landon dropped the timbre of his voice and gave a spooky laugh, "the catacombs."
The 'catacombs' turned out to be nearly a mile of twisting tunnels that served as wine cellars. According to Landon, they were meticulously ordered and maintained by unseen staff members. We were like children again, racing through the dim rooms, hiding in the shadows, and trying to take each other unawares.
I crept up on Landon, holding my breath to contain my giggles. He knelt down in a far corner and I was sure he was watching for me to come from the other direction. I had just raised my hands over my head and inhaled for a huge 'boo,' when he spun around, wielding a large rubber tarantula.
"Fang!" he cried.
I shrieked and stumbled back.
Landon helped me up with echoing guffaws. "Sorry, Riley. I was surprised to find him and couldn’t resist."
I inched away from the fake spider. "What is it?"
"Fang," Landon said with a fond smile. "Andrew and I used to hide him around here to scare the staff. I doubt it ever worked, but we thought it was funny."
He dangled the creepy toy over my head and I dashed off down the tunnel. I took a sharp turn to my right and stumbled into a room I’d never seen before. It felt like I’d fallen back in time.
In the midst of the dim, cool tunnels, the room was a warm, bright anomaly. A thick Persian rug lined the cold stone floor and a sparkling crystal chandelier hung from the cement ceiling. A dark wood table stood in the center, its polish gleaming. One softly lit alcove held a record player and carefully stored albums, while another held a rack of wine glasses.
Landon smiled in awe. "I forgot about this place. Normally it was locked. It’s the private tasting room. Hold on." He spun away into the dim tunnels and left me to explore the sumptuous hidden room.
When he returned, he took a dusty wine bottle to the alcove with the glasses and produced an opener from a hidden drawer. He opened the wine effortlessly and selected two clean glasses.
"Who opened this room?" I wondered.
Landon grinned as he took out a glass decanter. "I have a feeling if we hadn't found this place on our own, it would have been subtly suggested by my housekeeper. I think she likes you."
I joined him at the table and reached to pour. Landon gently pushed my hand away. He poured the wine into the decanter. "The older the vintage, the higher the cost, the longer it should be given to breathe."
I eyeballed the dark red wine. "How much?"
Landon checked the label and shrugged. "I don't know, a thousand bucks or so?"
I dropped down into a chair and stared. It wasn't easy to forget how insanely rich Landon was, but when it was just the two of us and the mood was playful, his vast fortune was far from my mind. Now it came rushing back.
He didn't notice. Instead, he placed the rubber tarantula in the center of the table and smiled.
I dragged my gaze from the expensive wine. "So you and Andrew played down here a lot?"
"No, we spent most of our time at his house or at The Sand Dollar. The Sand Dollar was an empty store front for a lot of our childhood, and we used it like a giant clubhouse."
"You spent a lot of time with Andrew and his family?" I remembered him mentioning that before.
Landon nodded. "Yeah. Lyla too. The older I got, the less I wanted to go on all the business trips with my parents, so I stayed with Andrew's family. Sometimes I wished they were my real family."
I smiled. "That's how I felt about Anna's family. Her mother was always home. Her father would come home from work at the same time every day. He'd try to be gruff, but he loved his girls. I remember I used to pretend they were my adopted family, and my mom and grandpa were just distant relatives."
"Here's to friends that feel like family." Landon handed me a glass of wine and held his high.
We toasted and I took a tentative sip. The wine was velvety on my tongue and left swirls of so many flavors that my head spun.
"Grape soda with a cherry fizz finish," Landon said. He laughed at my skeptical look. "That's what Andrew and I always say. We used to imitate our fathers at fancy wine tastings."
I took another sip and saw a flash of my own childhood. "Anna and I did elaborate tea parties, even though in middle school, we were probably too old."
"So you grew up with Anna. When did Owen come into the picture?" Landon asked.
I frowned. "High school. Anna introduced us and immediately regretted it."
"Why?"
"Owen was always looking for someone better." The memory was bitter, but the wine helped. "We always did what he wanted wh
en he wasn't too lazy to go out." I slumped back in my chair.
"I can't believe he was all bad," Landon said.
"Why, because you met him?" I asked.
"No, because you dated him." Landon sipped his wine and thought about it. "Besides, the man I met didn't seem all bad."
I sighed and swirled the wine in my glass. "Well, watch out. Owen has a way of proving people who believe in him wrong."
Chapter Nineteen
Landon
I shifted the Maserati into drive but kept my foot on the brake. Riley had finally settled into her seat, but her neck was craned to look out the window. I followed her eye line past my towering mansion, out across the gardens, over the trees to the ocean horizon.
"I'm going to miss Golden Bluff," she said.
"It's a good spot to spend the weekend." I eased the car down the first curve of my steep driveway.
"Come on, you miss it too, when you're not home." Riley turned to me and her deep brown eyes defied me to lie.
"You're right, you're right." I was surprised my cheeks didn't hurt from smiling. Not tabloid neutral or business happy or charity humble smiles, but real, genuine smiles. Riley made them appear with just a glance.
"Why were you so surprised I was comfortable in your home?" she asked.
I laughed. "Comfortable? That's not a word I usually hear about Golden Bluff. The hallways echo and the high ceilings make it perpetually cold inside. Besides, you weren't so happy with it that time you got lost trying to find the pantry."
Riley pursed her lips. "Getting lost seems like a rite of passage. Besides, you got lost showing me the back stairs to the library."
She had me there. "I don't go that way very often," I said in my defense. I took another switchback turn and glanced at her. "You're really going to miss it?"
She leaned back in her car seat and sighed. "I suppose you're right about it being hard to live in all the time. All that space. We must have walked miles."
"A built-in fitness plan," I joked.
"Mostly, I'm going to miss the views. It feels like Golden Bluff is the last place in America the sun touches every evening."
I took a few more curves in silence. Now every time I looked out the window at those far-reaching horizon views, I was going to think of her. The contentment that brought was tinged with worry for how I would feel when she wasn't here.
Shaking off the heavy feeling, I pressed the accelerator into a turn. "How about we give you one more look at that view? The Sand Dollar has good windows in the bar."
Riley grinned. "Now that I know The Sand Dollar used to be your clubhouse, I'm going to look at it in a whole new light."
I cruised past the waterfall. "Yeah, that building sat empty for most of our childhood. Andrew started brewing beer in it when we were in high school. His dad was angry until he tried the beer. Andrew always had a talent for a good brew."
"So when did it become The Sand Dollar?" Riley asked.
"Andrew inherited the building when he turned eighteen. He started brewing more seriously while he went to college. We used to open it on the weekends for tastings. It just kind of grew from there."
We pulled into the small gravel parking lot and Riley leaned forward to look at the brewery pub. "What was it before?"
"It was always a bar. My great-grandfather used to refer to it as a gentleman's club. Andrew's dad called it a roadhouse." I smiled as I thought about the different men.
We got out of the car and I held the bar door open for her. She walked in and faced the formal dining room. "I can just imagine this place empty and dusty and you two tearing around inside on bikes or something."
"How did you know?" I laughed. "We used to pitch a tent right where the center table is and camp out. There are still holes in the floor from where we drilled in for the tent spikes."
"There's our favorite bartender,” a silver-haired man said, waving at me. “Good to see you again, young Michel." He stopped to shake my hand. He and his wife were just coming from an ocean view lunch in the dining room. "Best pre-gala drink I ever had."
"You're welcome, Mr. Stanley. Mrs. Stanley." I kissed the back of his wife's hand.
"Is this the same Landon that used to steal strawberries from my front yard?" she asked. Then she reached up and pinched my cheek.
Riley's eyes were bright with laughter when I turned to offer her my arm. The older couple beamed at us and waved as we headed into the bar. Riley noticed every glass that was raised to me and every head nod that I returned, but her arm didn't stiffen in mine. Not once. She felt just as comfortable and at home as I did.
I didn't want to let go of her even when Andrew called out, "Well, isn't this a pretty picture walking through the door."
Riley and I took stools at the bar.
"So, you in a whiskey mood today like you were then?" Andrew asked.
Riley tossed her wavy hair and grinned. "No, I'm more interested in this beer I've been hearing about. If you've been brewing it since high school, I'm assuming you've gotten pretty good at it."
"Award-winning." I pointed out the placards along the sidewall that led to the kitchen.
Andrew ignored the acclaim. "I bet you'd like the amber ale. Nice and bright," he said. "Now, you have to tell me what you thought about Golden Bluff. You were there all weekend, and I worried maybe you’d gotten lost and Landon couldn't find you."
"It was perfect," Riley said.
Andrew considered her. "You liked it up there?"
"Are you kidding?" Riley asked. "There are pictures of mini-Landon in tuxedoes in almost every room. And his driver sings in the garage when he doesn't think anyone's around. He could be a tenor in an opera. Oh, and the hiking trails are the best."
Andrew slid his glance to me and raised an eyebrow. No one ever got beyond mentioning the splendor. I sipped my beer and returned my gaze to Riley. She sat on the edge of her stool and held her beer while she smiled.
"And the wine cellars were a lot of fun. Until Landon tried to scare me with Fang," she said.
"Fang!" Andrew shouted. "You found him? I can't believe that thing was still down there."
"I love the idea of you two running around as kids," Riley said, "and playing here when it was empty. Anna and I used to dream about a clubhouse like this. All we had was a half-full potting shed."
"Speaking of Anna," I reminded Riley, "we better get on the road pretty soon."
"Oh, watch out," Andrew said. "Rosalyn knew you'd be coming through town today, and she's got a basket of stuff for you. She's still not happy you returned that dress, and she's determined to make you take something else instead."
Riley looked around carefully, surveying the bar as if Rosalyn could be hiding anywhere, ready to accost her with cast-off haute couture. Seeing it was all clear, she slipped off her stool and headed to the restroom.
We all jumped when Rosalyn appeared from the side door and cornered Riley in the last booth by the window. "There you are! I have the perfect scarf to match that t-shirt."
"It's just a white shirt," Riley cried, trying to fend off Rosalyn.
Within seconds, Riley was draped in a perfectly tied Hermes scarf, opera-length freshwater pearls, and a large pair of movie-star sunglasses. Rosalyn continued to rummage around in her bag for the perfect Jimmy Choos as Riley backed slowly away.
"Leave the girl be, for god's sake, Ros," Andrew called across the bar.
"I make even trades, Andrew Wyatt, unlike some people I know," Rosalyn snapped.
Andrew chuckled and leaned both elbows on the bar. He waved off a few orders and called over a waitress to deal with them. His dark eyes stayed stuck to me.
I glanced at Riley again and then smiled at Andrew. "What?"
He raised his eyebrows and kept staring, though I saw a smile in the depths of his beard. "What are you smiling about?" he asked.
"I'm not smiling, you're smiling," I said. I watched as Riley backed all the way into the ladies' room and Rosalyn charged after her. "Oh, she's in trouble
now that Ros can make her try on things."
"Uh huh," Andrew said without blinking.
I cleared my throat and drank more beer. "How was the take this weekend? Good business? I worried the storm might have chased customers away."
Andrew stood up and crossed his arms. His steady eyes never left my face. All I could do was smile at him and watch him try not to smile back.
His beard twitched. "Come on, man. Now's your chance."
"Chance for what?" I blinked wide eyes at him.
"All right," Andrew said. "I'm just going to come right out with it because you don't have the balls to say it. There's something special about Riley Cullen."
I knew we'd get there eventually, but Andrew's quick bluntness made me choke on my beer. "What makes you say that?" I coughed.
"You are so full of shit. Who do you think you're sitting across from, huh?" He slapped both hands on the bar and stared me down.
"Must have been a slow weekend if all you want to do is gossip like a little girl in pigtails," I said. His stare was unavoidable, as was the sudden burst of laughter that came out of my mouth. "All right, all right, I confess! There's something special about her."
"Jesus, man, I can see it. It's crazy," Andrew said.
"Stop, all right? This is really weird for me and I'm way too excited about it. She makes me smile all the time. I look like a fool."
"You look happy."
I shook my head. "She's intoxicating and I can't get enough. See my problem?"
Andrew poured himself a beer. "You're thinking about your impressive run of bad luck? You've picked out some toxic women in the past, but they were nothing like Riley. Though you're right to slow yourself down. Maybe heading into a relationship at top speed isn’t the best plan. It's never worked in the past."
"Yeah, I'm pretty good at the crash and burn part of relationships," I admitted. My racing heartbeat was tempered by the hundreds of obstacles that had swerved me off course before.
Torn_An Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 44
