by Diane Moody
Her door opened, but he didn’t wait to help her out. By the time she unlatched her seatbelt, he was halfway up the sidewalk listing off the home’s details. “Five bedrooms, three and a half baths, three thousand square feet, hardwood floors throughout, full basement, eat-in kitchen—”
“Stop!”
He halted in his tracks, then slowly turned. “Is there a problem?”
Olivia bit her lip, corralling every ounce of her patience. A litany of sarcastic responses ripped through her mind, but she wasn’t about to let him get the best of her. Breathe in, breathe out. She closed the door and carefully made her way through the snow drifts to the sidewalk which, thankfully, had been cleared. Breathe in, breathe out. She straightened, making her way toward him. Catching up, she leveled her eyes at him. “No problem.” She walked past him then headed up the porch steps.
Behind her, he muttered something unintelligible. He stomped up the stairs, unlocked the door, stood back, and while pinning her with a look to kill, threw open the door.
“The home was built in 1899, but previous owners have maintained the home, upgrading as needed. The current owners put a new roof on the home three years ago, and upgraded the kitchen and all three bathrooms just two years ago. But, as you’ll see, they did so with an eye toward the original design. Meaning, the house boasts the latest amenities while offering an authentic heritage.”
She strolled through the rooms, observing the home’s classy features while listening to his well-rehearsed descriptions. Inwardly, she smiled at his robotron tone, aware of its intent. She peeked in every closet, opened every cabinet door, and even took a long look at the contents in the refrigerator, at which point he rolled his eyes with affected exaggeration.
After climbing back up the stairs from the basement, he turned to her. “Well?”
She tapped her gloves against the palm of her other hand, taking one final look around. “No. It’s a beautiful home, but much too big for me.” She flashed him a ready smile and headed for the SUV.
They repeated the routine through three more houses. Olivia enjoyed the variety of architectural styles, the eclectic decorating themes, and the strong sense of community which prevailed while touring the area. It frustrated her not to be able to discuss them with Trevor, but the tone he’d set prohibited any friendly conversation. With a growing sadness, she resigned herself to the futility of their time together.
As they pulled up to the last home on the list, she wanted nothing more than to go back to the inn, put on her pajamas, and read by the fire for the rest of the day.
“I think I’ve seen enough, Trevor.”
He turned off the ignition, looking at her. “What?”
“I’d like to go home now. I mean, back to the MacVicar.”
He opened the door. “Nonsense. We’re here. You might as well take a look.”
She dropped her head with a groan, but she was too tired to fight him anymore. Stepping out of the vehicle, she turned to see the house—a cottage resting on what looked like a knoll of some kind. A chill danced up her spine as she walked closer, following Trevor along a partially cleared path over the slow rising knoll. Beyond the house, the frigid waters of the bay lapped at the rocky beach.
“It’s . . . beautiful,” she breathed.
“What? Oh, yes. The view. Well, trust me; it comes at a hefty price.”
He made his way along a winding path toward the door. She followed, already enchanted by the house’s cedar siding weathered to a handsome gray patina. White shutters gave it a cozy, enticing appeal. She could hardly wait to see inside.
Olivia’s heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the open living area. There, she could see straight through to the bay, included the masts of boats docked a short distance away at a nearby harbor.
“As you can see, the house itself is relatively small—only 1,800 square feet, but with the open floor plan and floor-to-ceiling windows providing an exceptional view of the harbor, it appears much larger. Not to mention the wood-beamed cathedral ceiling. At the pinnacle, it’s right at sixteen feet high.”
“Oh, Trevor, it’s—”
“Note the updated appliances in the kitchen area, all top of the line, stainless steel. Granite countertops. Here’s the walk-in pantry.” He continued through the charming little cottage, pointing out its special features as well as its shortcomings. “Three bedrooms, all quite small. Only the master is big enough for a queen-size bed. Closets are also small, though the master suite includes a somewhat larger walk-in closet. Still, very little room and not much storage space other than the garage.”
Olivia made her way through the room to the French doors. “The master bedroom opens out onto the deck?” She unlocked the door and stepped out onto the deck which ran the length of the back of the house. “Oh, look! Part of the deck is screened-in. What a perfect place to have my coffee each morning.”
“I seriously doubt you’d want to sit outside on days like this.”
“Sure, but look—there’s a fireplace over there. That would take the chill off, don’t you think? Hey Trevor, look! There’s a stone fire pit out there by those Adirondack chairs! How fun to sit out there with friends and watch the sailboats come and go.”
Olivia’s imagination bounced from one scenario to another. She dug her hands deeper in her coat pockets. “I’ve always dreamed of living on the water, but for some reason, I always assumed it would be Florida.”
Her laughter seemed to fall on deaf ears as Trevor stepped back into the house. She turned toward the beach below, filled with a sudden, intense yearning to make this her home. It was the very thing she’d been warned against—making rash or sudden decisions. But she couldn’t help it. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life.
Right?
She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts as she made her way into the large open living area. Decorating ideas helped her visualize exactly how it would look—not much different from the current owners, but with her own personality.
“Who lives here, Trevor?”
“What difference does it make?” he said without turning around.
“HEY!”
He turned, exuding an air of utter frustration as he crossed his arms over his chest. “‘Hey’? Is that how folks in the South try to get someone’s attention?”
“It is when the person is acting like a buffoon!”
He scoffed, dropping his arms to his side. “I beg your pardon.”
“Oh, enough already with the stuffy britches! Can’t you please lose the arrogance for just one moment and talk to me? What happened to that kind gentleman who invited me to stay for tea after book club? What happened to that man I had a snowball fight with? Where’s that guy? Because he’s the guy . . .” Did she dare say it?
Trevor huffed, looking past her. “He’s the guy you want to drag all over town looking at houses?”
Olivia approached him. “No, Trevor. He’s the guy I want to spend time with.”
He turned, confusion written on his face.
She took another step toward him. “He’s the guy I’d like to get to know better. He’s the guy who’s crazy about a little dog named Charlie and shows her such tenderness . . . but for some reason puts up barbed-wire fences to keep people out.”
Her heart pounding, Olivia trembled, surprised at her audacity. She’d never spoken like that to anyone before. Let alone this aloof realtor bent on getting rid of her. But even now, as she searched for a clue in his befuddled expression, she wondered if she’d gone too far.
“I don’t know what . . .” he began. “That is to say, I can’t imagine . . .”
She grabbed his lapels. “Out with it, already,” she urged, her voice hushed. “What is it you can’t imagine?”
He studied her with narrowed eyes, the urgency behind them nearly taking her breath away. “Olivia, I—”
“Yes?”
He cupped her face and without another word, leaned dow
n toward her and placed the most gentle, perfect kiss on her lips.
Olivia felt a rush of relief wash over her, only then realizing how much she’d wanted him to kiss her. Her arms circled his neck as he folded her into his embrace.
“Olivia,” he whispered against her ear. “How I’ve longed to hold you, to kiss you . . .”
She smiled. “Then by all means, please don’t let me stop you.”
Chapter 11
Trevor held her closer, inhaling the scent of her hair and losing himself in the warmth of her returned kisses. Nothing in that moment made any sense, only that she felt so good, so right in his arms.
When at last she leaned back to look up into his eyes, he felt a blush warming his face. Still, he couldn’t help smiling. “Well, Miss Thomas, I must say I’ve never had that happen at a showing before.”
“For the record, Mr. Bass, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m not complaining, mind you. I’d just hate to think this was some kind of ruse—bringing unsuspecting women here, dazzling them with the spectacular view and all.”
He raised his eyebrows, momentarily looking away. “I assure you nothing could be farther from the truth. In fact, I should apologize for—”
Her kiss silenced his lame backtrack. He laughed as a realization hit him.
“Oh, so now I kiss you, and somehow you find it humorous?”
He pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I find it amusing since we both know my apology wasn’t quite truthful.”
“Ah. The apology. No need, though I find it rather gallant that it crossed your mind.”
“Gallant? No one’s ever accused me of being gallant.”
“It wasn’t an accusation; it was a compliment.”
“Yes, well.” He suddenly felt awkward, not quite sure what to say or do. He had no practice at this sort of thing, and hoped she didn’t find him lacking in the ways of . . . whatever this was.
She smiled, placing both palms against his chest. “Oh, Trevor. Thank you for letting me in.”
“I show houses. Of course I let you in.”
“No, silly.” She tapped her finger against his heart. “In here. If only for this moment, thank you. I knew there was a sweet spirit beneath all that gruff exterior.”
Trevor started to pull away, but she held firm to the lapels of his coat.
“I’m . . . well, all this is . . .”
“What? All this is what?”
He pulled away, but reached for her hand and tugged her toward the sofa. He took her coat then slipped out of his.
“Wait, are you sure we shouldn’t leave? What if the owners return?”
He motioned for her to join him on the sofa. “They won’t. I promise.”
“How do you know?”
He leaned back. “Because I’m the owner of this cottage.”
“What?” She scooted to the edge of the cushion. “You mean this is your home?”
“Yes and no. Yes, I own the house, but no, I don’t live here. Up until a few weeks ago, I’ve rented it out. When the economy tanked several years ago, the owners were forced into foreclosure. It was a second home for them, and they had no choice. Wonderful people, but the bank took possession.”
“That makes me so mad. In most cases, foreclosure can be prevented. At my bank, we bend over backwards to help homeowners stay in their homes. Whatever it takes.”
He noted the fire in her eyes. “And I applaud you for that. But not all banks have a heart. In fact, the bank made a pretty penny off this little cottage. But, as a realtor and neighbor, I found out about it before it listed. Made an offer, the bank countered, and we split the difference.”
Olivia tucked her leg beneath her, turning to face him. “Wait—you said you’re a neighbor? You live around here?”
“No, not ‘around’ here.” He nodded toward the right. “I live right next door.”
“Where? Show me.” She jumped up and headed for the door onto the deck.
He followed her outside, catching his breath as the biting wind blew over him. “There,” he said, pointing to his home fifty yards to the east.
Olivia shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight. “Trevor—it’s stunning. How long have you lived there?”
“It’s been my permanent home for about twenty-one years. My father’s family built it more than seventy years ago as a summer home. Of course, I had it completely renovated before I moved back in.”
“Will you show it to me?”
“Sorry, but it’s not for sale.”
“Very funny. It probably has week-old pizza boxes strewn everywhere and smells like dirty socks.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve never ‘strewn’ a pizza box in my entire life. As for the socks—well, every man has his weaknesses.”
He grabbed their coats and closed up the cottage before walking her next door. His maid service came twice a month, so he wasn’t worried about that. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought a woman to his home, and for good reason.
He never had.
“Oh my goodness . . . it’s so beautiful.”
He took her coat again. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”
Laughter lit her face. “Hardly. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
He gave her a tour, enjoying her reactions. He’d lived here so long, he rarely noticed the features she commented on. The framed vintage cloth map of Maine on the wall. His father’s collection of clay tavern pipes dating back to the eighteenth century. His eclectic taste in cookbooks lining the shelf in the kitchen. A pair of old rowing oars hanging above the French doors that opened onto his screened-in back porch.
Her hands clasped behind her back, she wandered through the family room. “You spent all your summers here?”
“For the most part. I used to love coming here as a boy, spending time with my cousins. Of course, it was all different then.”
“How so?”
He stood beside her at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. “We knew everyone. Lots of folks lived here year round, but there were also families like ours who spent the summers here. We were like one big happy family in those days. We didn’t have so many tourists back then.”
“Ah. Those evil tourists.”
He turned, surprised at the tone of her voice.
“I’m kidding, Trevor.” She smiled, gently rubbing his wrist. “You need to lighten up.”
They wandered into the master bedroom. He was pleased she liked the décor, and told her he’d hired a company in Boston to redecorate the entire house just a year ago.
“They did a beautiful job. It suits you. Very masculine. Very classy.” She headed into the large master bathroom suite. “Wow. Now this is a bathroom. Walk-in shower, soaking tub—with a view, no less.”
It felt awkward, escorting her through his personal space. “Let me show you upstairs,” he suggested. Just then, a string of whimpers drifted down the hall. “Good grief, I forgot all about Charlie.” He headed toward his study.
Olivia followed him. “For some reason, I assumed she was at the bookstore.”
“No, I prefer to keep her here at the house when I’m out. Especially with the temperatures so low right now.” He leaned over, unlatching the clasp on her crate. Charlie rushed out, yapping happily and tail wagging. Trevor knelt on one knee, giving her a hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’ll have to forgive my manners. I was showing Miss Thomas our home.”
As if understanding, Charlie wiggled out of his arms and pranced toward Olivia who’d also knelt down.
She scratched behind Charlie’s ears. “It’s all my fault, sweetie. I distracted your daddy. We won’t let that happen again.” She planted a noisy kiss on Charlie’s head. You have my word on that.”
“Come along, Charlie. Let’s let you get some fresh air.” Trevor headed back toward the living area. “What do you say?”
As he opened t
he back door, she made a mad dash for the grassy area he kept cleared for her and went about her business.
Olivia followed him toward the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. “You keep her crated while you’re away? She doesn’t mind being cooped up like that?”
“She loves it, actually. When I first got her, I could never get her to sleep through the night. Up and down, all night. Needing to potty, wanting to play, those desperate puppy cries all night long. I was at my wits’ end. Then I talked to our veterinarian about it. Celeste suggested I purchase a crate, line it with a nice, soft blanket, and most important, fill a hot-water bottle with warm water, wrap it in a towel, and tuck it inside the crate.”
“And it worked?”
“Yes! I couldn’t believe it. She cuddled up to that warm bottle and slept for hours. I’d even find her taking naps in there during the day. Celeste said they feel safe and secure to have a place of their own like that.”
“Makes sense to me.” Olivia rested her chin on her wrist, a contented smile on her face.
He swallowed, wondering why in the world he’d brought this woman into his home without so much as a second thought. He had no experience with this sort of thing! He shifted his weight. “Would you, uh, like some tea?”
“I’d love some, thank you.”
“Good.” Good. Something to do with my hands. He filled the tea kettle and set it on the gas burner which he lit.
“While that heats, would you show me the rest of your house?”
“You mean upstairs?”
She hopped off the stool. “Sure. How many bedrooms up there?”
He waved her ahead, then followed her up the stairs. “Four bedrooms, two full bathrooms.”
She stopped, twisting around to face him, her hand still on the rail. “Four bedrooms?”
“Yes, four. Why? Is that too many?”
She continued up the stairs. “No, I’m just surprised. That’s all. You must have had a big family.”
“Plenty of room for aunts and uncles and all those cousins.”
“How many brothers and sister did you have? Or were you an only child?”
“Just one brother.” He changed the subject, diverting her attention to the upstairs layout. “Jack and Jill bathrooms—one between the bedrooms on that end of the hall, another between those two on this end.”
