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Their unofficial club name was the Montana Double Riders, coined by their CEO Kendall Forrester. Although, he suspected Kendall’s brother Clay Forrester was the one who’d thought it up based on the Colorado property he oversaw security for down south.
Clay’s group was called the Double Rider Men’s Club. They were similar in nature to this group, but they hadn’t been in existence quite as long. And most of the men in that group spent their time seeking that which he opposed most—marriage.
Warrick parked his car in the circular drive, outside the impressive wide, wooden front porch. They all exited his vehicle.
Isabelle stopped before closing her door to stare at his home, looking first left and then right, up to the roof and then down to the shrubbery and landscape at ground level.
It was a very large place as far as square footage went, but basically it was an enormous log cabin in the woods. He’d wanted comfortable and not formal. Large to the point of excess, and containing all the rich amenities included within, but he’d also desired a more down home Western feel to his house, and not an East Coast themed monstrosity, regardless of his ability to afford it.
The price of this place even with all the high-end materials, fixtures, and furniture had been chump change in comparison to the value and expense of his childhood home.
The most important difference being that this place was all his.
A certain sense of pride washed over him as Isabelle stepped from his car. He wanted her to like what he’d created. Wanted her to be at ease in his home.
“Wow,” she said exuberantly. “You have a huge house. It’s beautiful. I love log cabins.”
“Thank you.” Warrick took her hand, closed the door of his car, and led her up the front steps onto the porch. He glanced at Colton once to assess his current mood.
His best friend had a vaguely wary expression still shaping his features. Warrick couldn’t blame him. He’d been out of character for the entire day.
Isabelle made different thoughts crowd his mind than what usually resided there right before they brought a woman here for sex. Was he being foolish? Should he shift gears and be the hard-ass he usually was? Could he even do it with Isabelle? Doubtful.
Perhaps it was a mistake to treat Isabelle differently than all the other females littering their past.
Perhaps he needed to stop being so oddly romantic and fall back on his regular detached sexual routine.
Perhaps he needed the comfort of habit to bring back his sense of ultimate control. They had a playroom set up in the house’s lower level. Perhaps that should be their first destination to help change his sappy attitude.
Warrick unlocked the door, ushering Isabelle into the impressive two-story foyer complete with a dramatic Western-styled chandelier.
Hanging suspended halfway between floor and ceiling, and centered in the foyer space, the light fixture dominated the air above them with several tiers in varying concentric sizes of small old-fashioned lanterns attached to a circular, distressed wooden frame.
The lamps, forming a wide cone shape of sorts, pointed upward. The lights exuded a special yellow hue to mimic lit wicks, giving off a warm glow.
It was unique, expensive, created especially for his home, and he loved seeing it each and every time he opened the door. That also ended his fascination with design. The front hall light had been his single contribution to the beautification of his house. The rest of the place had been decorated by someone else with very little input from him.
He’d simply said the words, “expensive, good taste, and befitting a log cabin,” after hiring someone who’d been recommended.
Isabelle noticed the special chandelier right away. “I love that light fixture,” she said, pointing to it before she was barely inside. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Warrick glanced at her, thinking the exact same thing. “I hope not,” he joked. “I had it created especially for this house.”
The only other space he’d designed and decorated himself was the playroom in the basement. Colton walked past the two of them, heading for either the basement door to below or the kitchen and dining room down the hall on the right.
“Colton,” Warrick said, about to kick his control to the curb and change his rules once more. “Why don’t we show Isabelle the master bedroom upstairs?”
His best friend whipped around so fast, Warrick thought he might lift into the air. The expression on his face so fierce, Isabelle sucked in a breath, and said, “What’s wrong?”
Colton sent his gaze to her and softened his features. “Nothing. But I’m hungry. I thought we’d eat dinner first.”
