by L. A. Fiore
She tossed a string bean at me. “Funny.”
All teasing aside, I understood where Nat was coming from. It wasn’t that we needed a man, our father was a terrible husband and I’d rather be alone than deal with what Mom had had to deal with. But seeing the other side, how happy finding the right person can make you, yeah, I wanted that for both of us.
“I get it. I want that too. Watching Jess and Kit, I want us both to find that.”
“I don’t understand why it’s so hard.”
“Me neither. Maybe for you they’re intimidated by your large brain.”
“You are so not helpful.” She reprimanded, even as her lips cracked into a smile.
“Bright side, we have each other. When we’re older we can get a house together, combine our cats to create a herd and yell ‘get off my lawn’ to all the neighborhood kids.”
“I’m scheduling a lobotomy for myself on Monday.”
“A lobotomy, I doubt I’ll even notice the difference.”
That earned me a dinner roll in the face. “So, Trace is taking you to a place in the Bronx.”
“Yeah, a carriage house his friend has for rent.”
“In the Bronx?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“What do you suppose this friend is like?”
“Having a friend like Trace, my imagination is going wild but he’s probably happily married to a supermodel.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I’ve never had much luck when it comes to men.”
“Well, the rent is ideal, so maybe your luck is changing.”
“I can’t believe we’re in the Bronx.” Thursday arrived; Trace and I met at Clover, stopped for coffee and now we were in his car heading to Rafe McKenzie’s house. When Trace mentioned the name of his friend it kind of sealed it for me that the man was going to be hot. It was a great name, no, sexy as hell name. “How did Rafe find this?”
“He’s a woodworker and needed a place that had a large enough yard for his workshop, which focused his search outside of Manhattan. He found a place that needed a hell of a lot of work, but what he’s done to it is nothing short of a miracle. My wife adores it, has started putting a bug in my ear that she’d like to find a home in a similar community. Get Faith into a more suburban-like neighborhood with grass and trees.”
“I love it already. Even if the carriage house is no more than a cardboard box in the backyard with an extension cord, I’m sold.”
“Trust me, the carriage house is way more than that.”
We pulled into a gated drive, one that required a code to access, my eyes landing on the house and instantly I fell in love. A soft, gray stone made up the house that had a pitched roof and a huge covered porch. Gardens were needed to soften the lines where the house met the grass, but the place was exquisite. Pulling into the back, the carriage house—a nice-sized building with the same gray stone of the house, and white trim work—sat off to the left of the detached garage. The one-time carriage doors had been removed and were replaced with exquisite rustic doors with large windows to bring more of the light inside. Just past the carriage house was a huge heather gray barn: the workshop.
Trace’s question pulled me from my study. “What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful.”
“Rafe isn’t here, he’s making a delivery; I’ll show you around.”
I didn’t need to see the inside. I loved it and the price was a steal especially seeing what I’d be getting for it. But to Trace, I said, “Okay.”
We headed to the back door of the main house and as soon as Trace unlocked it, a huge dog appeared. He was the size of a small pony. I’d never had a dog—even wanting one—and had never been around a dog, so unconsciously I moved behind Trace.
Sensing my discomfort, Trace immediately sought to put me at ease. “He looks scary, but he’s harmless. He’s like a walking ottoman.” And even with his criticism, he scratched the dog behind the ears smiling the entire time. “His name is Loki.”
And while Trace went to handle the alarm that was buzzing at us threateningly, I greeted Loki by waving. Yep, I waved to the dog. And in response, it looked as if Loki cocked his head at me thinking, what the…
Trace led me to the carriage house. “The furniture comes with the rental.” He opened the door and stepped back.
Hardwood floors as far as I could see. A living area to the right of the door and even though the leather and pine furniture was masculine, it worked. It was perfect. The kitchen was to the left and just to right was the hall leading to what I imagined were the bedroom and bath. For a small kitchen, it was nicely stocked with top of the line stainless steel appliances, quartz countertops and a window over the sink. I’d always wanted a window over the sink so I could grow herbs.
I loved it, my only hesitation, especially after seeing the place, was I’d be in close quarters with someone I didn’t know at all. What if we didn’t hit if off? What if this Rafe guy was a nut and not a harmless one like Nat and me? Turning to Trace, who stood by the front door, I asked, “What’s Rafe like?”
“He’s a good guy, private and not big on wild parties and shit. He’ll respect your privacy and will expect the same in return. You’ll be safe here, Avery.”
“I’m that easy to read?”
“It’s a fair concern, but I’ve known Rafe since we were kids. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
“Okay, I’ll take it.”
It was Trace who cocked his head at me as if saying, what the… “You don’t want to see the bedroom?”
“I don’t need to.”
“All right. The renter’s agreement is on the table. Take a look at it, sign and return it. There’s a self-addressed envelope attached.”
Walking over to the table, I reached for a pen in my purse. Scanned the document and signed it.
“Just like that?” Trace was fighting a grin.
“I trust you, so yeah.”
“All right. Here are the keys. I’ll give you a few weeks to get settled so how about October 1st as your start date.”
“Sounds great.”
“We’ll deal with the paperwork on your first day. Welcome to the team, Avery.”
Three days after I toured Rafe’s carriage house, I pulled my old Subaru station wagon up Rafe’s drive—the gate had been left open for me—and parked next to a fancy black Ford F-150. Climbing from the car and stretching, since the trip had been hell, I looked around at the trees that were just beginning to turn colors. And to think we were in the city. In the next minute, Loki appeared from the barn. Instead of most dogs that run to visitors, jumping up on them, looking to play, he meandered toward me as if he knew his duty but his heart just wasn’t into it. When he did finally reach me, I got down on my knees and rubbed his head to let him know how much I appreciated the effort.
Shifting my focus to the carriage house, I admired the place I’d be calling home—the large doors that were reworked with an overhang, the same gray stone of the house, the creamy-white trim around the windows. And it was while I studied his work that I heard Rafe calling for Loki—a deep and very sexy voice. I reminded myself that he was Trace Montgomery’s friend and after my embarrassingly extensive Internet search on Trace, outside of my employment at Clover, I wouldn’t be moving in the same social circles as them especially since I was just Rafe’s tenant. But that didn’t stop me from spending more time than I’d care to admit, in the past few days, imagining what Rafe looked like because he was a friend of Trace’s. Hot was a foregone conclusion. I kind of saw him as a happy blend of Henry Cavill and Chris Hemsworth; yes, the bar was set really high. In the next minute, Rafe stepped from the barn and I literally lost my breath. Damn they made them fine here. That bar…he just stepped right over it. And as alluring as his face was, it was the sight of his thigh muscles straining the denim of his faded jeans that caught and held my attention. I was a sucker for a man in faded jeans. And then realizing that to Rafe it would seem as if I
was checking out the area between his thighs, I jerked my eyes to his face.
There was just so much to take in from the long black hair that swept his shoulders, to his face that was made up of all angles softened only by his lips; his only feature that didn’t look to be carved from stone. His bright green eyes and his body—like his face—was what women’s fantasies were made of. Including my own. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, biceps that stretched the sleeves of his tee and even though he wore a t-shirt, I just knew he had a six-pack. He was ridiculously sexy and this man lived here. I’d have paid $5000 a month for the pleasure. I wasn’t sure what magic fairy dust had been sprinkled on me that I’d landed both my job at Clover and this man as my landlord, but I hoped my uncharacteristic luck held out for awhile.
As he approached, I mentally pictured the sight that greeted him—faded black sweatpants, a tee stating bacon as the reason why you weren’t a vegetarian—the fabric clinging to my overheated skin and not in a sexy way, in a ‘I really need a shower because I reek’ way. I’d twisted my auburn hair into a knot on the top of my head halfway through the trip. It was unseasonably warm and my car didn’t have a working air conditioner. I could only imagine how well I managed that.
Belatedly, I realized I was gawking at my landlord. Nice first impression, Avery. Walking toward the not-to-be-believed sexy man, I offered my hand. “Hi. I’m Avery.”
He studied my hand like it had just materialized from thin air. It took him a beat or two before his large, calloused hand curled around mine. Inappropriate, absolutely, but for just a second I wondered what those hands would feel like roaming over my body. “Rafe.”
Yes, he was Rafe—the name turning into an adjective, one synonymous with hot, sexy, delicious. And that voice, it had places stirring to life that hadn’t stirred in far too long.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
Still daydreaming about his voice and my body’s very pleasant reaction to it, I didn’t immediately answer him. Seeming to understand what fueled my hesitation, he grinned—the sexiest curving of lips I had ever seen in my twenty-nine years.
Snapping myself out of it, I answered, “No, not at all.” And then I grabbed onto the first sane thought that popped into my head. “It’s even prettier than I remembered.”
“Can I help you with your bags?”
“I don’t have much. I think I can manage. Oh…” Going back to my car, I grabbed my purse for the envelope. “Before I forget, here’s the first and last month plus security deposit.”
He seemed to hesitate in taking the envelope. If he were having second thoughts about renting me the place, I’d be crushed and up a creek. He seemed to pick up on my panic and clarified. “You’re my first renter.”
Exhaling in relief, I assured him, “You won’t even know I’m here.”
He had a thought on that, but he didn’t share. Tucking the envelope in his back pocket, he gestured to my car. “I’ll help you with your bags.”
My car was a piece of shit—looking even more so next to his sexy truck—but it was a reliable piece of shit and was one of the only outings with my dad I remembered. He had bought me the car; sure it probably only cost a few hundred bucks, but the memory of that day was priceless since my dad was usually about as warm as the Antarctic tundra. Rafe didn’t hide his look of disbelief that something so old still worked.
I felt the need to defend my sorry excuse for wheels. “1984, it’s a classic.” And it was, technically.
Rafe pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his head turning slightly in my direction. “It’s something.”
“5-speed manual transmission, manual windows and locks, pleather and though I don’t know the factory name, I think of the color as a buttercup-yellow.”
He studied me for a minute; the intensity of that gaze did very pleasant things to my insides. I keyed into the trunk.
“No fob?” Humor laced through that question.
“People today, so spoiled. Nothing like a good old-fashioned lock and key.”
“Mmm hum.”
I didn’t have much; it only took three trips to bring my stuff inside. Excitement moved through me, touring through the place had been one thing, but I’d be living here. “It really is beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you have pictures of what it looked like before?”
Again the stare, more intense this time, before he jerked his head in the direction of the front room. “Over there, in the living room are a few before pictures.”
I hadn’t noticed them when I toured the house, but seeing what Rafe had to start with, I agreed with Trace’s comment about the changes being nothing short of a miracle. “Wow, you’ve been busy. I love this furniture too. My mom would kill for that coffee table.”
“Thanks.”
Twisting my head to him in disbelief or maybe awe, I asked, “You made that?”
“Yeah.”
“Trace mentioned the barn was your workshop. That must be nice. You don’t have far to go when inspiration strikes.”
In reply, I got one of those chin lifts before he changed the subject. “I left a list on the counter: grocery stores, pharmacies, liquor stores…that sort of thing. The code for the gates and the alarm codes for here and the main house are also there. The washer and dryer are in the mudroom of the main house. When you’re settled, I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is.”
I didn’t really want to invade his privacy and I couldn’t imagine his wife or girlfriend would be super keen on having another woman traipsing around the house. Before I could offer an objection, a woman’s voice drifted through the screen. “Rafe?”
He glanced in the direction of the voice before he turned and started for the door. “Welcome to Riverdale, Avery.”
And then he was gone, the door closed quietly at his back, but I was already moving across the room to peek out the window. The sight of him walking away was almost as sexy as the one of him stepping from the barn earlier. I didn’t see the woman; Rafe was already walking into the house after his lady friend. Leaning against the window, I took a moment because it wasn’t every day you met a man like Rafe. Sexy as all hell, the kind of sexy that made you want to drop to your knees and worship. Thoughtful: leaving the list of stores for me, talented in his craft as evident by my surroundings and totally taken. Not a surprise.
I spent the next few hours unpacking before I took a much needed shower. Afterwards I cracked open a bottle of wine, toasted myself and then called my mom.
“Avery, please tell me it’s fabulous.”
“It is. I’ll send you a few pictures.”
“And your landlord? He’s not going to be some overbearing, always peeking out of the window and taking unwanted pictures, landlord.”
If anyone was going to be peeking out of the windows snapping pictures, it wasn’t going to be Rafe. The idea of wallpapering the ceiling with pictures of his likeness was not a bad idea. I wasn’t about to share that with my mom though. So instead, I hedged. “He’s great.” He was so much more than great; fantastic, swoon-worthy, edible were better descriptive words. And then realizing I was lusting after a man I didn’t know while on the phone with my mom, I said again, “He’s great.”
“Two greats. He’s either significantly more than great or he’s quite a bit less.”
My mom knew me so well. “He’s significantly better than great.”
“Um.” She had more to say on that, but didn’t and instead asked, “Are you all settled?”
“I am. I didn’t bring much since the place is fully stocked. I can’t believe this is my home for the foreseeable future. Wait until you see the pictures. The yard is private with a gate and a fence that wraps around the whole property. But it’s the trees and shrubs that make it feel a lot like home. And the little town in the borough that I passed, quaint and charming with super cute shops.”
“I’m so happy to hear that. I worried you’d be living somewhere that ma
de you uncomfortable.”
“I thought I’d feel a little of that too, especially having my landlord living right there, but I don’t. It’s comfortable and homey.” I hoped that Rafe saw this arrangement as long-term because there was no way I’d be able to find anything even remotely as awesome as this for the price I was paying. “What about you? Where are you now?”
“We stopped off in Annapolis. We’re going to dinner this evening on a fifty-foot sailboat on the Chesapeake.”
“That sounds like a blast. Eat some blue claws for me.”
“You know I will. After, we’re heading to Virginia Beach and then the Outer Banks.”
“Keep me posted, I want to know where you are and what you’re doing so I can live vicariously.”
“Likewise and good luck with your first day. Call me, I don’t care how late it is and send the pictures. Get one of your landlord too.”
“Mom!” But she knew I would.
“Love you, Avery.”
“Love you, Mom.”
Calling Jessica, I heard little Aidan in the background as soon as she picked up the line.
“Is Aidan okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. So, you’re in.”
“Yep.”
“Send pictures.”
“I will. If I had been given the okay to decorate this place, I would have done it very similarly. And to think one time this structure stored the carriages. What he’s done is amazing.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“And the backyard, it’s like a secret garden, secluded and magical. I know he has neighbors; I passed them when I drove here and yet you can’t see anyone. It’s like entering a secret world.”
“And your landlord? What’s he like?”
“My landlord looks like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ, carpenter edition.”
“No way.”
“He’s gorgeous: long black hair, bright green eyes.”
“Get his picture.”
“Mom said the same thing.”
“Your mom is very smart. Do you see yourself making a move on your hot new landlord?”
“Nope.”
