Page 8 of Capturing You
She was in a dark hallway with doors on either end. One was closed, the other open halfway, letting in enough light to give her hope. She hurried that way, pushed open the surprisingly heavy door, and stepped into a living area.
Straight ahead, windows showcased a view that had her halting. “Oh.”
The sun glimmered on the Atlantic far below, which reflected a powder-blue sky. The cove that could’ve been her grave was bathed in golden light. The trees on the headland that jutted between here and town waved in the sea breeze, the pines on it nearly as high as the house where she stood.
In the cave, she’d known they were moving upward, and of course she’d seen this Victorian on the cliff, but it seemed higher from above.
“Coffee?”
She startled and spun, taking in the man who’d stopped behind her.
One corner of his mouth quirked as if it wanted to smile, but his eyes weren’t on board. “Not sure how you forgot I was here in the one-point-six seconds it took you to bolt up the stairs.”
Outside, he’d seemed like some combination of superhero and supervillain. In here, he looked like a nice, normal man. Well, a very handsome man.
And calling himnicewas giving him too much credit.
He was over six feet. Broad shoulders, muscular arms that filled out his T-shirt perfectly. Strong jaw on a square face softened by a trimmed red beard that matched his short hair.
Her best friend in elementary school had been a little boy with red hair. Unlike Ford, her old friend hadn’t even been cute by seven-year-old standards, but she’d always had a soft spot for redheads.
She’d never met one who looked like this.
Never mind the smirk he didn’t bother to hide.
Now that she was inside, now that she was pretty sure Ford wasn’t a killer, she relaxed, inhaling a deep coffee-scented breath. “Do you have tea?”
After a curt nod, he closed the door they’d come through, and it disappeared into a dark paneled wall. If she hadn’t known it was there, she’d have never found it.
Ford walked past her, going through an opening on the left, while she shifted to take in the interior of the house she’d always thought was the most beautiful structure in Shadow Cove.
If memory served, the mansion had been built in the 1870s. It still looked stately from afar, but from Dad’s boat she’d taken photos with her zoom lens and seen the signs of wear and neglect.
Those signs were less obvious inside, at least in this room.
Tall windows framed with thick, ornate trim made up the ocean-facing wall. The other walls were wood-paneled. Not cheap laminate paneling, but rich dark wood, polished to a golden shine. The ceiling was crisscrossed by matching beams.
Pastel floral fabric covered the sofa, and a nearby chair-and-a-half and ottoman had a checkered pattern in coordinating mauves and greens. There were ornate tables with carved legs, lamps with lacy fringe, and a giant area rug over hardwood floors. Brooklynn guessed the wardrobe-style cabinet beside the oversized fireplace held one of those old, fat TV sets.
The room was clean and slightly feminine, and Brooklynn had the sense that time had stopped in the late eighties, maybe early nineties, and just restarted when she’d walked in.
“When you’re finished gawking, your tea is ready.”
She swiveled to find Ford leaning against the doorjamb between this room and the next, watching her, that enigmatic smirk on his face.
“Sorry. I was just…”
His eyebrows hiked.
She gestured to the room. “It’s amazing.”
Those brows lowered, though he seemed unsure how to respond.
“Lead the way.” She followed him through an eating area tucked into one of the hexagonal turrets. It held a round glass table surrounded by six upholstered chairs. Windows boasted views of both the sea and the yard they’d run across from the cave.
It was gorgeous.
Ford had continued through another door, so she followed, entering a kitchen just as updated as the living room had been. The appliances were beige and predated her birth. The dark cabinetry had obviously been installed before the light-and-airy decor of the current decade.
