Page 28 of Memphis

“That’s good. Really good.” He sighed with relief. “So, what about tomorrow? You planning to come back?”

“That’s the plan. I have a few calls to make for work, but I’ll head over right after.”

“Sounds good. And what about tonight? Do you have a place to stay?”

“Wes gave me the keys to his place, so I guess I’ll be staying there for the next few days.”

A smirk slipped across his lips as he replied, “I see.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a place to stay while I’m here.”

“Okay. If you say so.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card, then offered it to me. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything, and I meananything.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No. Thank you.” He reached over and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You did good today. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but you got him to come around, and that’s huge.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Me too.” He paused, like he had something else on his mind, but shook his head and said, “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Have a good night, and don’t forget to call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

I gave him a smile, then turned and started back down the hall. When I got to my car, I checked my phone, and as promised, Weston had sent the address to his place. I plugged it into my GPS, and I was on my way. Twenty minutes later, I waspulling up to the location and was surprised to find that it wasn’t an apartment or a condo. Instead, it was a beautiful Craftsman-style home that was nestled right in the center of the historic district.

It was absolutely stunning.

Intrigued, I grabbed my things from the back seat and headed up to the porch. The front door still had its original stained glass and opened into the living room. It was small but in a cozy sort of way. The furniture was masculine but comfortable. I continued into the house and entered the kitchen.

It was modern but still maintained the charm of the house, and the bedrooms were more of the same. They were simple, but with their built-in bookshelves and window seats, they were the perfect sanctuary.

It was hard to believe that Weston, Mr. Rough and Tough, lived in such a traditional home, but strangely enough, I think it suited him.

I carried my things into one of the guest bedrooms, and after I changed, I went to the living room and nestled up on the sofa. It felt strange to be in Weston’s home alone, and it seemed even more strange that I actually felt comfortable being there—like I’d been there many times before.

Me:

Your house is beautiful.

Weston:

Glad you approve.

Make yourself at home.

But no snooping.

Me:

Who? Me?

Weston:

Yes. You.

Me:

Okay. I’ll try to keep my snooping to a minimum.

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