Page 83 of The Write Stuff

22

TWENTY-TWO

It was dark when we parked at Huxley’s house, so I didn’t get to see as much of The Landings as I wanted. It was never going to be my thing — an organized community like this made me itchy just thinking about it — but I was curious. A little curiosity never hurt anybody.

Except the cat, apparently. That was what they said anyway.

I wanted to see everything. He promised that we would have time over our three-day weekend. Still, I went to sleep feeling mildly dissatisfied. Not with Huxley or anything, he was weirdly good at the romance thing. Just with not being able to see the property.

I woke up wide-eyed and ready to go the next morning.

“Up!” I ordered after using the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face before pouncing on him. “I want to see everything!”

He made a disgruntled sound and tried to pull the covers over his head.

“Up!” I repeated.

“Wylie,” he groaned and reached for my waist.

I managed to wriggle away. “You promised I could see this place, and it was too dark when we came in last night.”

“We have three days. I promise you won’t miss a thing.”

I stared down at him. “Up!” I said again, hoping the third time would be the charm.

This time, he did manage to grab me around the waist. He was fast when flipping me to the mattress, and all of the oxygen escaped my lungs.

“Shh,” he whispered into my neck as he wrestled me down. “It’s quiet time.”

He was warm against me, soft and pliable. When he slept, he looked like an angel. “Fine,” I grumbled. I pretended to give in long enough that he relaxed. Then I rolled fast and escaped from him.

“What are you doing?” he complained. “We didn’t get in until late last night. We should still be asleep.”

“I’m too excited.”

He made a noise that might have been words. It might have been something else, too.

“Fine,” I said to him on a sigh. “Stay in bed. I’m going to shower and have some coffee.”

“Okay. Everything you need is in the kitchen. I should be up about the time you have the coffee made.”

I left him to sleep. In truth, I wasn’t irritated because he wanted to sleep. I was too excited to see The Landings to worry about anything else.

His shower was nicer than mine. It had a raindrop shower head. I’d never seen one before and instantly fell in love with it. I left my hair to air dry, only putting a bit of product in to tame the waves. Then I jumped into a pair of comfortable capris and a simple gray V-neck T-shirt.

His coffee maker looked complicated, but once I figured out the process to steam the almond milk — did he always have almond milk or had he bought it simply in case I stayed overnight with him? — I filled one of his travel mugs and headed outside.

He had a lovely sunroom with a huge, comfortable couch. I couldn’t wait to try it out. I’d heard so much about Bree’s “enhancements” to the yard, however, that I wanted to focus on them. I found Gertrude almost immediately.

“Wow,” was all I could say as I stood in front of her. I tilted my head. Her boobs were enormous. “I guess Bree wasn’t kidding when she bought you, was she?”

“No, Bree was not,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

I turned quickly, sloshing coffee on my hand — thankfully, not on my shirt — and found Bree idling in a Barbie pink golf cart. Her hair was wet too, and she had Brontë strapped in a car seat next to her.

“Is it legal to have a baby in a golf cart?” I asked, honestly curious.

She shrugged. “We’re not that far away from here. I go slow.”