Page 110 of Back in the Saddle

What a way to start.

I’d worried about that, wondering if I should take the liberty.

He was right. This thing with us was just beginning. Not that any guys I’d dated had garages, but if they did, I couldn’t think of one of them I’d take that chance with this early in our relationship.

So I loved it that he was down with that version of intimacy.

“I’m glad,” I said softly. “I worried it was too soon.”

“I hope I’ve confirmed it’s not too soon.”

I shot him a smile, and even though I couldn’t see it, I knew it was dazzling.

Eric smiled back. His was a different kind of dazzling, and as such, I was dazzled.

He then asked, “Did you get wine?”

I did.

Though I also discovered he had a wine fridge for white and sparkling, and a hefty stock of red in the pantry situated off his kitchen, which looked more like a display alcove offering the most exclusive wares in a fine food grocery store.

That wasn’t the only thing I discovered.

In retrospect, one could say I should have started cooking earlier, but my curiosity got the better of me, and without Eric taking my attention, I gave myself a leisurely tour of his house (but not a gross one, as in intrusive, like I didn’t rifle through his drawers and medicine cabinets or anything).

I found his long hall was taken up by two rather large guest rooms, both completely kitted out (and no wonder Sadie and Hector stayed with him, they were pimp), a full bath, which was damned sweet, and another bedroom he’d converted into a workout room, and that was sweet too (or, for people who did that sort of thing I knew it would be).

I also discovered his book collection was almost completely thrillers. And his framed pictures shared he did indeed like to hike, as well as do shit on boats in lakes and on the ocean. During time spent doing the latter, he’d caught an amazing shot of a whale breaching the surface of a clear blue sea.

Last, on the other side of the garage—and you could only get to it through a door in the garage— I happened onto his man cave.

It had two recliners I was pretty sure he bought when he was twenty-one, a TV that was so big, I didn’t know they made them that big, and a wall of DVDs that explained why he was so good at picking movies. Across the back wall there was a small kitchenette-type area with a beverage fridge, a microwave, a sink, and the pièce de résistance, a countertop-size, professional kettle-pop popcorn machine. His cave also had a complicated stereo system with turntable, which was what he used to enjoy his CDs and vinyl that filled the other wall. This, and the TV, were hooked up to a seriously boss surround sound system.

No, there wasn’t a game console in sight, or hidden anywhere (I checked).

And yes, you guessed it.

All of this made me like him even more.

“Or do you want me to pull a bottle?” he finished on the topic of wine.

“I got wine,” I said.

He slid his hands out of my shirt, which woefully meant I had to do the same.

He went to the glasses.

I went to the pantry to get the wine.

He took it from me when I got back and started on the cork.

“So, what did you learn today?” I asked.

“They got tech. It’s impressive. We didn’t touch it, but we did leave a message to get in touch.”

“How did you do that?”

“We wrote ‘get in touch’ and our office number on a piece of paper and held it up to the camera.”

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