Page 171 of What are the Risks
“There’s grass!” I exclaimed as Ryker pulled up.
There hadn’t been any the last time he brought me here. Just a concreted drive and dirt.
While the process of building a house had been stressful at times, watching mine and Ryker’s family home come together filled me with a warm, gooey feeling. I’d never imagined this future five years ago, and I was proud of how far we’d come.
After parking in the middle of the double drive then rounding the car with rapid speed, Ryker tugged on my hand before I’d even found my footing, eagerly dragging me up the path.
Someone was excited to get inside.
If there was ever such a thing as a house having anew carsmell, this place had it. Everything was fresh, from the paint and floors, through to the sparkling kitchen appliances.
“It’s so close!” I shouted, bouncing with excitement as I checked out the butler’s pantry.
That’s right – I had a butler’s pantry. Not that I ever really expected to use it, but I liked saying I had one.
“Let’s check upstairs,” Ryker said. “I had something added to our master suite and want to make sure it’s right.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A stripper pole?”
With an amused tilt of his jaw, he shook his head.
“A sex swing?” I tried.
He snickered, shaking his head once more.
“Mirrors above the bed?”
He playfully groaned. “Why didn’t you throw these ideas around during the design phase, Rubz?”
I hadn’t needed to. Ryker had the kinky spots covered, including his shower sex bench – even though he still denied that’s what he planned on using it for.
“We need to find a good spot for Warren,” I called out as I followed Ryker up the grand staircase. “He’s already survived two homes. We can’t let his life end here.”
Ryker chuckled. “We’ll find a safe spot for Warren.”
Our master suite was one of my favourite rooms in the house. The natural light was amazing, and don’t even get me started on the wardrobe. I didn’t even have enough clothes to fill up my side... not yet, anyway.
Hello, online shopping.
The part Ryker was most excited about was the wall solely dedicated to his shoes. Since joining the NFL, his sneaker collection had grown. The PR packages and freebies he was always being sent nowadays certainly helped.
“What are we meant to be looking at?” I checked, walking around the empty space.
Ryker’s gaze cast to the roof. “That.”
A large fan had been installed, its black blades a bold yet fitting contrast to the crystal-white vaulted ceiling.
When the interior designer initially walked Ryker and I through her vision, she’d mentioned she hadn’t included ceiling fans because there was temperature controlling technology built into the house – even the floors. Clearly Ryker hadn’t been satisfied with that.
“Lie down with me,” he said. “Let’s play.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Lie down where?”
He lowered himself onto the floor. “On our makeshift bed.”
“Why would–”
He patted the space beside him. “Just humour me, Rubz.”
