Page 8 of Finding You
“Why did you pack your suits?”
“I didn’t pack all of my suits. Just a few in case.”
“In case there was a random legal emergency?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll take you shopping this week. But for now, just wear something comfy. Don’t dress up. He would probably think that was weird.”
“I should go. Now I’m stressing about my outfit and I need to find something.”
“Fine. But you need to call me tonight! I need to hear about this. I can’t believe you’re going to have dinner at Declan Quinn’s house. My high school self is freaking out.”
“Shut up. You are happily married.”
“Yes, but my sweet husband is in California right now, and the time zone makes FaceTime sex a bummer. Call me tonight and give me the deets.”
Oh Jesus, that was way more than I needed to know about Emily and Derek.
“I want to know everything. You and Declan… I would have never guessed that one. But, I suppose it actually makes sense, since you probably hate people more than he does.”
I was desperate to get Emily off the phone. This was turning into a way bigger deal than I initially thought. “Then, it should be an interesting night.”
5
DECLAN
What did I do?Why on earth did I invite a strange woman into my house? I never invited people to my house. My parents and brothers just sort of showed up sometimes, but certainly not because I wanted them there. This was my sanctuary, my place where I could just be me. I never invited people here if I could help it, especially women.
I ran around furiously picking up and trying to make everything look presentable. My time in the navy had turned me into a little bit of a neat freak so I tended to get anxious if things were out of place. I carefully folded the knit afghan my grandmother had made for me over the couch and fluffed the throw pillows. Everything in my home was carefully and deliberately chosen. Unlike most guys, I wanted to live in a real home, not some glorified frat house with a big-screen TV and no couch. My house wasn’t fancy, but I took a lot of pride in it.
It had taken years to build this place. After I bought the land, it took a while to save enough to start building. I did some work myself and just waited until I could get things exactly right. I painted and sanded and built some basic furniture and waited while my dream slowly came together over the years. This house was a labor of love. And it was my special place. Ginger was the only woman in this house. My mom dropped by occasionally, usually with baked goods, and sometimes Cece, my future sister-in-law, stopped by when Liam was working late. She was cool and didn’t force me to talk too much, so I didn’t mind.
Why couldn’t I have offered her some to take home? Why did I invite her to eat dinner with me? What was it about this girl that made me act so strangely? Also, eating ribs was the last thing I wanted to do with a pretty girl. They were messy and required the use of your hands. I was going to feel embarrassed the whole time.
But there was something about her. On the surface she looked like a supermodel and carried herself like a CEO. But once she started talking, she seemed lonely and kind of bored. I was intrigued, which doesn’t happen often.
I could lie to myself and say I was just being neighborly. But, I had lived here for six years and never entertained my other neighbors, the Shulmans. They were a nice retired couple that spent the winters in Florida and hosted big parties in the summer for their grandkids. I liked them well enough, but we certainly didn’t hang out. And let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly the neighborly type.
The good news was that it was just one dinner. And it wasn’t like anyone was going to find out. If my mother got wind of this she would be thrilled. Then, once she took a look at Astrid and confirmed she was a woman under the age of eighty, she would be trying to schedule a wedding. The good thing about living up here on the bluff was that no one knew my business, and I liked it that way.
* * *
“So I brought you something.” Astrid thrust a very fancy bottle of scotch into my hands and immediately bent down to greet Ginger.
I took a step back to hang up her coat and got a whiff of something feminine and spicy and a bit bold.
Desperate for something to do to keep me from sniffing her again, I stared at the bottle. “Wow. Lagavulin 16. This is really good stuff. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She slipped off her boots and walked breezily into the living room. “I debated what to bring you. I have a bunch of nice stuff. Including a small batch rum that was flown in from Haiti on a private jet. But I pegged you for a scotch guy.” She turned around and smiled at me, and I noticed a dimple in her left cheek.
“Yes. It’s great.”
“I have lots of fancy booze. Every time we closed a deal or fixed a regulatory filing for a client, they always sent expensive liquor. I never had any time to drink it.”
She walked around my house looking at the photos of me and my family that hung on the wall across from the fireplace. “And so, when I was packing to come here, I threw a bunch of it in a duffel bag.”
I had no idea what to say to this blunt, random, and beautiful woman who was currently performing an FDA-grade inspection on my living room and apparently traveled with duffel bags full of booze. “Thanks. Would you like some?”
