Page 60 of You Found Me
Ward pressed his lips together and sped up a little more. He should have taken her somewhere so remote it would take a SEAL team to extract her. Somewhere cold, so she could wear a parka and ski mask. Somewhere with only polar bears for company.
Alaska, maybe.
He stared at the road ahead and pictured the stage princess in the frozen north.
He liked the idea entirely too much.
Chapter Eleven
Della gaped as Ward pulled to a stop in the driveway of a two-story farmhouse-style fantasy on a quiet tree-lined street. The setting sun painted everything with gold, and fall dotted the lawn with brilliant red leaves. Lizzie would love this place. “You can’t be serious.”
“About?”
She looked back at him. “This is where we’re staying?”
“Yes.” He turned off the engine.
“No way. This”—she waved a hand at the picture-perfect setting—“is some kind of deeply twisted, elaborate tease. The second I get out of this truck you’re going to tell me I’m staying in an outhouse out back or something.”
“No outhouse. But there is a woodshed.”
Did his lips quirk up? She was pretty sure they did.
For some absurd reason, it warmed her a little. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No.” He jiggled the keys in his hand until he found one that looked like a house key. “We’re here. This is it.”
“This can’t be where you grew up. It looks like it’s been Photoshopped.” She pointed at the house. “Who lives in a house like that? Nobody.”
“Me. My parents. My grandparents.” He got out.
She opened her door and climbed out in slow motion. Perfectly trimmed hedges and pink and red rose bushes edged a covered front porch that gave her a come-hither vibe. Rocking chairs waited for her to sit and stay awhile. They somehow managed to soothe her frayed nerves just by existing.
The whole effect was charming and cozy and entirely out of place when she considered what she knew of Donovan Ward. There was no way that man would ever unwind enough for a place like this. “No way you grew up here. In that.”
“Yes, way. Hey, I had a childhood like everybody else.” He pulled their bags from behind the seat and shut the door. “Well, maybe not everybody.”
She stared around, completely dumbfounded. “But this is so…so…perfect.”
“It’ll do. Come on in.” He climbed the steps to the front door with both of their bags slung over one shoulder.
She followed. “Is your family going to mind me being here?”
“No.” He opened the door and waited for her to pass by, then shut the door behind her. “They live down by the square.”
“I thought this was your family home?”
“It is. It’s alsomyhouse. I own it. I stay here when I’m in town.”
“By yourself? Your dad moved out? Why? Why would anyone leave this house?”
“It was rough for him, after Mom died. Besides, he likes living closer to work.” He started up the stairs. “Room’s this way.”
“I want to take look around down here first.” She gave him an innocent smile. “Get to know my new cage."
He hesitated, then kept going. “Suit yourself. Stay inside.”
She moved into the living room just off the entry, immediately captivated by the enormous fireplace on the farwall. It was made of river rocks, with a wood mantle perfect for hanging Christmas stockings, and surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookcases.