Page 12 of The Caretaker
“I could take the photos for you. If you’re okay with that.” I pointed to my camera when he peered up at me questioningly. “I know a thing or two about taking pictures.”
“Editorial photos are a different beast.”
I quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”
He tucked his hair behind his ear, blushing, and I wondered what about this exchange would make him nervous or embarrassed. Solace shook his head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask, and it’s the least I can do after storming into your life with all my crazy. You show me the town, and I’ll help you build your portfolio. Deal?”
He bit down on his bottom lip, and I had to look away or risk thoughts that might violate my vows. Reality came into sharp focus as soon as those words filled my head.Stacey is gone.Even if the love was here to stay.
“Deal,” he said, stopping my grief in its tracks, preventing it from taking a solid hold of me. “Speaking of tours, want to see the rest of the house?”
“I’d love to.” I stood, stretching and staring at the couch. “I still can’t believe I slept for six hours. I never sleep that long.”
“It’s the couch,” Solace said. “It has that effect on people.”
“People?” I asked, then realized the answer was none of my business. “Sorry. Guess I’m a bit possessive of her already. I might have to take it off your hands when I head back to the city.” That didn’t amuse him like I thought it would. I wondered if it was the prospect of losing the couch, or the mention of me leaving, that had brought about his frown. Likely the couch. It probably held sentimental value to him.
“Let’s start with the kitchen,” he said before padding off in that direction.
He’d managed to achieve both a rustic and modern theme with the kitchen decor, the pantry’s barn door keeping with the exterior’s motif. Solace didn’t explain things as we went, just allowed me to take in every nook and cranny as he observed me.
“Wow.” I stood back to absorb the scope of the arched, wrought iron and glass doors that led out back. They were as tall as the ceiling, and as expansive as the darkness beyond them. “Impressive.”
“We can take a drive around the rest of the property tomorrow, if you’re up for it,” Solace said, and I turned myattention from what I couldn’t see in the distance—even if it called to me—to his reflection through the glass door.
He leaned casually against the teakwood and marble island, the baggy cerulean cardigan he’d worn since this afternoon slipping off one shoulder to reveal the smooth, milky skin there beneath the thin strap of his fitted tank. His stomach muscles pushed against the ribbed fabric.
“I’d like that,” I said, fighting back the terror attempting to rattle my limbs.
We made our way to the second floor, then past a narrow set of stairs that likely led to the attic. “What’s up there?”
“That’s where I keep Gavin’s things.” His steps continued toward the only room he hadn’t shown me yet.
Solace stopped at his open bedroom door, motioning for me to go in.
I appreciated the height of the archways and doorframes throughout the house. It wasn’t often that I didn’t have to bend before walking through one.
The color scheme aligned with the rest of the house, but the walls were paneled, and the fireplace in the sitting area rivaled the one in the living room. I rubbed at the back of my neck, smoothing down the hairs that rose to attention there.
“What’s wrong?” Solace asked, still standing in the doorway as though he didn’t want to get in the way of my exploration.
“Nothing,” I answered, because it didn’t make sense for anything to be wrong.
In a handful of strides, my long legs carried me over to the gargantuan canopy bed. Everything in this house was exaggerated in size, including the high ceilings. Solace’s bedroom was no different. It felt good to walk with my shoulders back. To not have to make myself small in order to fit inside my surroundings.
I fingered the gray linen curtains hanging from the iron railings to pool on the carpeted floor. “This is…beautiful,” I said, instead of “familiar,” because it wasn’t familiar, couldn’t be, and I didn’t want to scare him off with my apparent insanity.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
A fresh headache began to take shape, and sweat coated the palm I still held to my nape. “I should go,” I said abruptly. “It’s getting late, and I’ve taken up enough of your day.”
“I don’t mind,” he assured me, but I was already moving past him for the stairs, and lacing my boots by the time he met me at the door.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” I said.
“Yeah. Okay,” he replied, sounding disappointed. “If you can’t get me by phone, just show up. I’ll be here.” He pulled my coat from the closet, and I took it with a murmured thanks as I opened the front door.
