Page 10 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
My chest tightens again - not with unease, but with a strange sense of wonder. The property stands like something out of a magazine. The main house is an architectural masterpiece: clean glass walls that shimmer in the sunlight, nestled against a backdrop of towering oaks. A guest house, smaller but equally stunning, sits a short distance away, with its own charm - modern lines softened by ivy creeping along the edges.
The cab comes to a stop, and I climb out, clutching my bag as my shoes crunch against the gravel driveway. A man in a tailored jacket waits near the gate. He is…, say, in his mid or late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a clipboard in hand. He is a professional, don’t-mess-with-me yet approach-me demeanor immediately gives off, “I’m the property manager.”
As I approach, he waves with a polite smile. “You must be Ms. McKee?” His voice is warm but professional.
“That’s me,” I replied, shaking his hand. His grip is firm and businesslike.
“Richard Parker,” he introduces himself. “I am the property manager. Welcome to your new home.”
He gestures to follow him. “Shall we?”
I follow him through the gates, taking in the grounds as we walk.
“I know this would be inappropriate for me to say, but I have a tendency to compliment people or things I find beautiful. My wife says it’s a good and bad thing. So, allow me to say you are beautiful, Miss McKee, and your hair, I love the color.”
I am taken aback, but I smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Please don’t be offended,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.
“I am not. Thanks for that. You are quite good-looking yourself,” I say, to which he chuckles.
Is it possible to find an old man cute? Because the ducking of his head to hide his flushed face was cute.
The grass is lush and green despite the season, and I catch glimpses of small garden paths winding around the estate. “It’s beautiful here,” I say, more to myself than to Richard.
“It is,” he agrees. “The owners take pride in maintaining the property. You will find the guest house just as impressive. I have to say, you really are lucky getting the place. Most houses in Autumn Cove are either occupied or tied up in long-term leases. For the length of your stay, a hotel would have cost a fortune.”
Right…! Lucky...!
Back at home, I had spent an hour scrolling through listings, frustration growing with each passing minute. Nothing seemed right, well, there was nothing at all. Then, as if fate had intervened, I stumbled across the guest house listing. Fully furnished, its own pool, and in Autumn Cove? The pictures looked too good to be true, but then, it felt like it was meant for me.
I called Richard, who confirmed the house was still available but warned that a couple was also interested. My heart dropped at the thought of losing it, so I asked if I could pay a deposit with the promise of a refund if it did not meet my expectations. He agreed, and within minutes, the deal was set.
Now that I am here, seeing it all, I can only say this:Hazel, you are one heck of a smart cookie.
As we move closer to the guest house, it becomes more breathtaking. It is surrounded by flowering shrubs, compact but elegant, its dark wood exterior and wide windows exude warmth and charm.
“I wasn’t expecting it to be this..., beautiful,” I admit, my voice soft.
Richard chuckles. “You would be surprised how often I hear that. It is fully furnished, as mentioned, so you will not need much to settle in.”
The moment I step inside, I am hit with the scent of polished wood and a faint trace of vanilla, probably from a strategically placed diffuser. The interior is as impeccable as the exterior - neutral tones, cozy furniture, and light flooding in from large windows that overlook the estate. It feels like walking into a dream, too luxurious for the six months I plan to spend here.
I nod in approval as Richard leads me through the space, pointing out small details: “Washer and dryer in here, kitchen stocked with the basics, and this is the bedroom.”
The bedroom is a serene escape with soft lighting and an enormous bed that practically begs me to collapse onto it. My fingers graze the plush duvet, and for a brief moment, I can imagine myself finding peace here.
The pool is at the back, and I take a look outside the window, and I am in love. Although it is small, it’s beautiful. I can already picture myself sitting by the pool, letting the stillness of the place calm my restless thoughts.
“Perfect,” I say, turning to him. “I’ll take it.”
“Wonderful,” Richard replies. “We’ll just need to sign the agreement, and you’re all set.”
We move to the dining table, where he pulls out a folder. I skim through the document, and every line is a reminder that this is real. This is not some fleeting thought; I’m back in Autumn Cove, renting a guest house on an estate that looks like it belongs in a movie.
When the papers are signed, and the payment is made, Richard stands and offers his hand again. “Welcome to Autumn Cove, Hazel. If you need anything, do not hesitate to reach out.”
“Thank you, really,” I say, genuinely meaning it.
