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No, not house.
Mansion.
Estate, really.
“For the last time, Hayden. You have to stay in that wheelchair.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on moving.”
“Just let me take you outside. You love that backyard.”
“I spent money on that backyard. Doesn’t mean I love it.”
“Of course you do. Why else would you have purchased it?”
“Other people tend to it. I don’t tend to things I don’t love.”
I furrowed my brow as I listened to the argument behind the door. I lifted my hand to knock on it, then stepped back and waited for someone to open. A gust of wind almost knocked me off balance as someone pulled the door open, and in the doorway emerged a very exasperated woman. There were bags underneath her eyes and they were red. Bloodshot. Like she had been crying or constantly waking up from nightmares.
“I was wondering when you were going to get here,” she said breathlessly. “Come in.”
“Where should I place these?” I asked as I stepped inside
“On the table in the kitchen. Down the left hallway. There’s a dining table you can place them on. And don’t mind the canker sore in the wheelchair.”
I nodded my head, but I had no idea what she was talking about.
The door closed behind me with a thud and it caused me to jump. The woman rushed up the stairs, rounding around and disappearing beyond the wall. I looked all around me, taking in the decadence of the home.
And how eerily silent it was.
The onyx floor was a strict contrast to the white staircase that followed the wall on either side of the foyer. There were two hallways that jutted off in either direction. The right hallway looked like it dumped into a sitting room of some sort. I could see the corner of a fireplace and what looked like a bookshelf, along with a very comfortable-looking couch. The walls were a very pale blue, which lended a brightness to the entire house.
But I was supposed to go left, so that was where I headed.
I walked down the short hallway and was quickly dumped into a luxurious kitchen. Stainless steel appliances that didn’t look as if they’d ever been touched. A double-oven embedded into the wall and a hibachi grill where the stove would’ve naturally been. There was a kitchen island and the countertops were this beautiful gray-and-cream marbled color. The backsplash was almost mirrored, echoing the beauty of its kitchen in the blurry outlines of the reflection.
“On the table.”
I jumped at the sound of the harsh voice.
I peered through the open doorway and saw a man in a wheelchair sitting in front of some windows. No, not windows. Large patio double doors. His leg was in a cast from his knee down and his arm was casted and slinged against his body. He was favoring his right side, bending over so his arm was resting against the arm of the chair. The left side of his face was bruised. Swollen with blues and yellows and blacks. He had a contusion on his head that still had stitches in it, and the nurse in me was clawing at the forefront of my mind.
And my gosh, he was ridiculously attractive.
Beyond the bruises and the swelling, there was a set of pale blue eyes. His jaw was strong and his shoulders were broad. He had long legs that were stretched out beyond the foot props of the wheelchair, and even in his shirt and sweatpants I could tell how strong he was. His chest was pushing against the fabric of the white shirt, exposing the slanted lines of his muscles. His casted arm was still throbbing with veins. His nose was prominent and his skin was tanned.
It was hard to not look at him.
“Are you going to put them down?”
I shook myself from my trance and walked through the arched doorway. There was a dining table behind the man. Ready to seat ten or twelve different people. I walked behind him and set the flowers on the table, taking in their scent one last time.
Then my curiosity turned back to the man staring out the window.
From this angle, I could see more of his beautiful backyard. At least, I thought it was his backyard. There was a stone walkway that matched the stonework on the front of the house. It led into an arch of drooping purple flowers before dumping out into a beautiful white swing made for two. The florist in me wanted to get out there. To survey it all and tend to the garden and water the flowers and even plant more.
But my eyes gravitated back to the man in the wheelchair.
