Page 186 of The Grand Duel
I grab the girls’ leads and my things and follow her out. “How did you get here so quick?”
“I was already on the way to Greggs when I messaged you. I was craving a cooked breakfast and didn’t fancy cooking it.” She peers up at me. “I just knew you couldn’t say no to me.”
“No,” I mutter quietly to myself. “Seems I can’t.”
When we pull up to the cottage, I pause and take in the entire front of the house. It’s hidden from the winding road, set back a little, the neighbouring houses plotted amongst one another in a non-uniform order that allows space and privacy.
There’s something oddly endearing about the way nothing is quite perfect on the drive in here. The cracks in the tarmacked road. The chipped, red-painted letter box. A broken sign for afete that looks like it’s been there since the summer months, and the cars left haphazardly where not every home has a parking space.
And then you turn into this small haven, and it opens up, the house just as imperfect at the rest of the village but?—
“It has something, doesn’t it?”
I turn and look at her. “Show me.”
We climb from the car and take the dogs inside. Lissie tells me her ideas for the kitchen as she sets up the kettle and supplies she brought with her from home, and I have to agree, I like what she has in mind.
I also like looking at her, and when she’s talking, I don’t have to, and so I let her walk me through the entire house for a second time, nodding and smiling and agreeing with everything she says.
“Are you ready for outside?”
“Lead the way,” I tell her.
“So, you know you said stable doors would look really good in here,” she says, walking me through the kitchen. “Well, imagine a stable door with these windows here sashed and painted a lighter colour.”
She opens up the back door, and my brows rise, not expecting the back of the house to be as big as the front. “It’s huge.”
She steps out into the light rain. “You have a beautiful garden. It’s already so green.” She pulls a flower from a hanging plant. “Imagine how it will be in the summer.”
I look past her to the rest of the garden, trying to find its end.
“You have a field on the back of the garden which the previous owners rented to a local farmer. He kept cows in it mostly. He’s offered the same amount if you wanted to continue with it, or you can find your own use.”
I follow her down the garden path, chuckling in disbelief. “What would I do with a field?”
“I don’t know.” The dogs come running past us. “You could get your own cows.” She snorts and turns, stopping on the path. The rain catches along her hairline, making the fine hairs curl. “You’d go from Charlie boy to my little farm boy.”
She chuckles, placing a hand on my chest as my smile grows. “Funny.”
“It is,” she says, pushing me back, but I catch her hand, keeping her there.
I look down at her, the air around us getting thinner.
Her smile grows softer. “I know it was a bit much, buying the house.”
“I don’t know. I think I’m getting used to youra bit much.”
She pops a brow.
I smile, holding her hand to my chest, and look past her to the field that doesn’t seem to have an end. “Why would you do this?”
She drops her hand, steps away from me, then leads me to a little granite built shed. “When we were in Italy you seemed so different. So much more relaxed.” She starts to collect up logs and place them by the door. “I wasn’t sure exactly what it was that made you that way—”You did. It was you.“—but I knew I had to find the thing. Which is hard when the man doesn’t give a lot away,” she teases, letting out a strangled sound as she struggles with a bigger log. My amused smile follows her from the log pile to the door and back again. “And so, I thought I’d take what you had given me—which was basically your dream home—and I’d make it happen.” She drops the log from her hands and brushes them together. “It helps that you told me how much of a tight-ass you are and how Mason had to buy the penthouse for you. I’d never have had the idea else.”
I sieve through her words and wonder if she really did do it just to see me happy. For someone who hasn’t known me that long, it seems like a huge risk. Then again, Mase would’ve never agreed to it if he didn’t believe it was the right call.
“Can you chop wood into sticks?” she asks, reaching for the small axe on the ground.
I hold my hand out.