Page 87 of Mr. Red

After he loads our things into the bed of the truck, he opens my door and then comes around to the driver’s side. I bite my lower lip, looking at him with one arm on the steering wheel. We should drive back to Washington in this. The things we would do in here.

Since it’s dark out, I can’t see much except flags. There are Texas flags everywhere.

Almost an hour later, he pulls up to a black iron gateabout twelve feet tall with a lone star in the center. He types in a code and the gates swing open. While he’s waiting on the doors, he does something on his phone. A moment later, the driveway is lit up revealing a white fence and oak trees along a gravel road.

After what seems like a ten-minute drive, he pulls into one of four garages. How many garages do you need? He must have a lot of toys.

We exit the truck, he holds out his hand, and then leads me to the house. It’s a white modern farmhouse complete with those black lights with exposed light bulbs, black framing, and window boxes filled with colorful flowers.

“This was my most recent renovation project,” he explains.

“Beautiful. Very Texas.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He squints.

“No, it’s very cool. Texas seems nice so far. It feels like I’m missing my cowboy boots.”

He grins. “I have some for you.”

Of course he does.

We walk inside. “This is so different from your home in Washington.” Sunflowers greet us on a round wooden table in the center of the foyer, brightening up the space. We walk along wooden floors and past an entry closet hiding under the black staircase. It’s apparent he was thinking of a family with this house.

“The house in Washington was an impulse buy; I liked the modern feel. But Texas is home. I wanted the house to feel that way.”

“Sure, sure. You live here all alone?” I look around at the bountiful space.

“Who do you think I would be living with?”

“I don’t know. It’s big.”

“I find it cozy.”

My head snaps to look at him. “You think this is cozy?”

“Yes. You’re going to love the fireplace.”

He pulls me further into the home. We pass a dining room with a big table decorated with more sunflowers and then walk into the living room and kitchen. There’s a fireplace taking up an entire wall, with stone from floor to ceiling. In front of the fireplace are inviting white couches with rugs placed around the space. Heavy-looking wooden beams frame the ceiling. The window coverings are pulled, so I don’t know what the view looks like or what’s out there. Hopefully not a man with a chainsaw.

I walk into the kitchen, touching the apron sink I’ve always wanted, for whatever reason. Gray cabinets and white countertops surround me. I love it.

“Do you want to take a shower before we go to sleep?” he asks.

“Yes, sounds nice. I’m glad we have some more time before we meet your parents. I can try to pull myself together.”

He just gives me that sideways grin without saying a thing.

Gee, Matt, way to make a girl feel comfortable.

I follow him again up the stairs to his bedroom. It’s spacious, like everything else he owns. A bed is in the center with a black canopy frame and earth-toned bedding. He plops my bag onto a small sofa at the foot of the bed.

Then he leads me to the ensuite, where a standing tub sits in the middle of the bathroom. There’s a double sink and a standing shower as well. No sauna in this one, I guess because going outside is its own version of sauna.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be downstairs,” he tells me.

“You don’t want to join me?” I furrow my eyebrows.

“Not right now, sweetheart.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead and then I’m left alone in his bathroom.

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