“Well, I want my things…at least some of them,” I tell him as I add more things to the box. Things that make his eyebrows arch and his lips tip down in a frown, which makes me smile.
“Fair enough,” he mutters. “As long as they’re in your room where no one else can see them.”
“Why? Are you planning on inviting girls over and want to impress them with your boring million-dollar art and leather couches?” I tease. Zane’s eyes snap up to mine.
“More like I don’t want to walk into the kitchen for a glass of water in the middle of the night and be jump-scared by a hairy gremlin. What is this thing anyway?” he asks as he pulls it out of the box.
“That’s not a gremlin! It’s a Gruffalo. And be careful with it! It happens to be signed by Julia Donaldson herself.” I tell him. “When I was a child, it was my favorite book.”
“I’ll stick with Stephen King,” he says and I blink. “What? I can read, you know.”
“Good. Then read this,” I say, pointing at the FRAGILE warning on the side of the box.
Zane sighs and makes his way into the house. I can’t help but laugh. This whole situation is ridiculous, but I’m in it now so there’s no reason I can’t have a little fun with it. Besides, the infamous Zane Calloway looks good with some ruffles in his feathers.
“So I don’t know how much you remember about the house from before,” he says over his shoulder as I follow him through the foyer. “Seeing as how you came in the back door…”
Ahh! We are back to the tennis match that is our normal conversation.
“I don’t know much of the layout at all,” I tell him. “But I will say your roses need trimming,” I toss back.
“You could use some trimming yourself,” he teases, and my jaw drops. Zane attempts to redeem himself with a little chuckle. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You were very nicely manicured…”
“The tour?” I press on.
“Of course.”
I follow slowly behind Zane as he points everything out. Most of the flooring is a light wood with cream-colored walls and wood framing. Everything is clean, sleek, understated, but very obviously expensive. Nothing is gaudy, which is nice, but it’s definitely modern. It’s a little bland for my taste. As the tour continues, I notice everything is expensive. Modern, boring, and expensive.
“You’ve seen the backyard,” he says snarkily. “So we don’t need to tour that again. There’s the kitchen, the gym, a spare room I use for guests…”
Zane walks the length of his house, pointing things out as we pass them. One of the doors we pass is open, and as we walk by, it catches my eye.
I stop, pressing the door open further. “What’s in here?” I ask. There’s a desk in the middle, some bookshelves and an easel. But what really catches my eye are the walls. They’re covered in art. Paintings, charcoal, sketches.
“That’s my office,” he says, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it shut so quickly it nearly slams me in the face. “This is the only room that’s off limits.”
His tone is cool and guarded. So I nod and keep walking.
“The bathroom,” I tell him as I scope out the giant walk-in shower in the hallway bathroom. “It’s bigger than my entire apartment.”
Smells better too. While I didn’t hate my cozy little abode, it was arguably not the nicest place. But it was affordable…at least until it wasn’t.
“Wait till you see your bathroom,” he tells me as we round the corner into a master suite.
“Damn…” I let out. “Your room is bigger than the whole complex!” It’s an exaggeration, but not by much. The bed has to be a California King. There’s a TV mounted on the wall that might as well be in a movie theatre. French doors open onto a private balcony overlooking the pool as well as half the city.
“This isn’t my room,” he says, and my eyes sweep over to him. Meanwhile, my mouth is still hanging open.
“You don’t sleep in the suite?”
“I have more than one,” he chuckles. “And this one is yours.”
“This…this is my room?” I ask. Then I realize how I sound and change my stance. “It’s nice. I mean…it’ll do.”
“Good,” he says, setting the box down. “Hopefully, the Jacuzzi tub in your bathroom will do too.”
With that, he walks out, and even though he’s not facing me, I know he’s got that stupid smirk on his face. Then he stops.
