Page 52 of Other Side Of Never
A few minutes later, Kian pulled his truck into a gravel driveway leading up to a small white house trimmed in what used to be bright green.
There was no garage, but two outbuildings out back were just barely visible through the overgrown hedges crowding the side of the house.
I pointed.“Is one of those the garage?”
He nodded and placed his hand at the small of my back.“One is the garage, the other is probably a tear-down.”
The porch creaked beneath our feet as Kian keyed the code in the lockbox on the door.
“Nobody lives here?”
He shook his head.“Not for a while.”He looked down at me, serious eyes flitting back and forth between mine.“It needs a lot of work, but I want to see if you see what I do.”
Inside, scuff marks covered almost every visible inch of the old wood floors.In some areas it looked like someone had taken an ice pick to them.
I chewed my bottom lip.“Nobody was murdered here, right?”
Kian slowly turned around to face me, head tilted to the side, brow furrowed.“Excuse me?”
I pointed to the floors.“The ice pick murders.Did they happen here?”
Facing me fully, he perched his fists on his hips.“What on earth are you talking about?”
“The floors!”I stomped over to him and pointed out the gouges in the hallway.“It looks like someone took an ice pick to them.”
He laughed.“The only thing that was murdered here was the floors.”With his hand at the small of my back, he led me back to the front door.“I can see you’re going to need a bit of assistance with this exercise.”
Standing behind me with his large hands cupping my shoulders, he lowered his voice and spoke quietly in my ear.“You walk in the front door.What do you do with your purse?”
“The one I don’t have?”I asked wryly.
He chuckled.“Yes.That one.”
His hands felt good, right, cupped over my shoulders.I looked around the small entryway, praying Kian didn’t notice the tightening of my nipples under my thin, summer shirt.
After my first apartment which was a bit of a scratch and dent mess, I moved into Gary’s professionally decorated monstrosity where I quickly learned not to stamp my own or any personality at all on it.
“I’ve never really designed or decorated a house,” I admitted.
He squeezed, his voice dropping.“Then this should be fun for you.”After a pause he added, “There are no wrong answers.”
I blew out a breath and looked to my left.“Built-in shelves with cubbies for purses and bags and maybe a basket or two, hooks underneath for coats.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, turning me to face the family room.“Now what?”
I froze, unable to see anything past the peeling wallpaper and layers of dust.I shrugged, stuck.
“Okay, let’s backtrack.You’ve just come in from a walk on the beach and hung up your purse.What next?”
Immediately, I looked to the kitchen.
He automatically steered me in that direction then let me go.
I walked to the old sink.“I come in here for a large glass of water and look out the window to see if,” I paused and turned to face him where he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.I pointed to the wall above the sink, “can I put a window here?”
He nodded.“Consider it done.”
I nodded and turned back to my imaginary window.“I look out the window and…”
