Page 6 of No More Secrets
“You have another brother, too, right?”
“Jackson,” Carter nodded. “He’s a script writer in LA.”
“From family farm to Hollywood,” she murmured, taking in the wood framed mirror that hung over dual vanities.
“Does he miss it? Living here?” she asked.
Carter shrugged. Jackson had skipped town the day before his high school graduation, headed for the West Coast and leaving a hole in the family with no explanations or apologies. It was something he knew still bothered them all. Some more than others.
He opened a skinny door next to the tub, stocked neatly with linens and every bathroom product known to man. His mother had gone shopping in preparation for Summer’s visit, explaining that women needed more than just soap and toothpaste. “Here’s the towels and probably anything else you’ll need.”
Summer peered around him and he caught her scent. Something sweet and light that teased the senses.
He took a step back and led her out of the bathroom. “That’s another bedroom over there,” he said, pointing to the last door on the right. “And this is the master.”
He had focused much of the renovation on this room. The existing gabled roof had flowed into the great room addition, which allowed him to add a cathedral ceiling here. Two original windows were replaced with glass doors that opened onto a small, but functional balcony facing west for sunset views.
The large bed with its tall wooden headboard faced the view.
The walk-in closet was practically empty. He stored most of his jeans and t-shirts in the center island with its endless drawers and cabinets.
“I’ve never seen a closet this empty before,” Summer remarked. “In fact I’ve never seen a man’s bedroom that was so clean. You don’t even have dirty socks on the floor. Army, right?”
Carter nodded and pretended that he didn’t hear her reference to other men’s bedrooms. He pointed her in the direction of the master bath. “Bathroom’s through there.”
“Did the military influence how you keep your home?”
“That, and growing up with a mother who wouldn’t let us leave the house on Saturday until our rooms were clean. I learned very quickly that if it was clean to begin with I didn’t have to spend hours shoveling dirty dishes and laundry. If you maintain what’s yours, you don’t have to spend as much time putting out fires. Or scraping gum off your hockey equipment.”
Summer laughed. “Beckett or Jackson?”
“Jackson.”
“Your mother must have some stories from raising you three.”
“You’ll probably hear every single one of them tonight,” Carter sighed.
“I can’t wait.”
––––––––
Carter left her in the house so he could finish up some work outside before dinner, but not before promising her the full farm tour tomorrow. Summer used the opportunity to set up her laptop and dive into emails and blog comments.
She handled the work-related communications first, confirming a shoot with a freelancer in Rome for a piece in the October issue and doing a final look at page proofs on an article about a young European designer who was making her big push west.
She texted Niko to let him know she had arrived safely and had not been run off the road by tractors or farm life.
She saved the blog for last. A dozen more followers since she had last checked this morning and several new shares and comments. Her boss, Katherine Ackerman, a senior editor withIndulgence, had been skeptical about the value of adding a behind-the-scenes look at the magazine to her blog. But the popularity spoke for itself.
It was the one place where, as long as she adhered to the magazine’s strict guidelines about advertisers and designers, she could use her own voice and talk about the things that were important to her.
Summer drafted a brief post about spending the next week at Pierce Acres. It needed art, she thought. She moved to the doorway of her room and snapped a picture with her phone. Downstairs she captured the kitchen and great room in their sunshine and stainless steel glory. In the driveway she snapped the front of the house from a few different angles. The light was getting softer as afternoon gave way to evening, giving the house a cozy feel.
Back upstairs, she tweaked the pictures with filters in her editing apps and then uploaded them to her draft post. She needed one more picture. Her followers deserved to see the striking Carter Pierce. A shot of him on the blog would guarantee fevered interest in the story when it came out in the September issue, she thought with a smile.
Speak of the devil. She heard him on the stairs. A moment later, he was framed in the doorway of her room. His arm rested on the frame, thumb swiping at a streak of dirt on his forehead.
“Hey. I’m going to take a shower. My mother will be here soon to start dinner. I should be out before she gets here, but she’s obnoxiously early to everything.”
