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“I guess we’re both going to take a chance then since you’re being so cryptic.” He took my hand and hauled me across the garage. When the headlights flashed on a Range Rover, I frowned.
Definitely not the car I’d have imagined for him. A sedate BMW, or a sporty one that was all speed and grace—that seemed to fit him. A beast of a car created for off-road exploring? Yeah, not so much.
He opened the passenger side and crowded into me. Before I could figure out if he was going to kiss me or…well, I wasn’t sure what else he’d have done, he boosted me into the SUV and buckled me in. Then he shut the door without a word.
He pulled out of the garage. “All right, where am I going?”
“Head into Marblehead.”
He glanced over at me. “The gallery?”
“No, but not far from it.”
The streets had cleared a little with the late hour. Blake’s company wasn’t exactly in the center of the entertainment district of Boston. We didn’t speak as he navigated the winding streets and roundabouts that created the dizzying infrastructure of the city. Once we hit the straightaway, he took my hand again.
He seemed to understand that I couldn’t really talk. The moment I opened my mouth, there would be such a rush of crazy information, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Not unless he made me stop.
Maybe not even then.
The exit for Salem and Marblehead came into view and we ended up on a long stretch of road with water on either side. I evened out as we left behind the industrial vibe and crossed over into the coastal town that had been my home for so long.
I murmured directions to him the closer we got to the gallery, passing it in favor of staying on Ocean Avenue. The closer were got to my grandmother’s house, the tenser he became.
“Where are we going, Grace?”
“Take a left here.”
His headlights washed over the front of the Cape-style house with the large strip of grass, and stone path to the porch. The pop of gravel under his tires seemed to echo in the quiet night. The hiss and roar of the tide infiltrated our silence.
“Why did you take me to my house?”
I stiffened. “It was my house first.”
He turned to me. Confusion creased the skin above his nose as his brows lowered. “What?”
“It seems you bought my grandmother’s house out from under me when it was in foreclosure.” I opened my door, took my purse, and slid out onto the driveway.
He stared at me through the window, then looked down at his lap.
I drew in a cold sea-scented breath, and marched up the driveway. Instead of going to the front door, I bypassed it for the side of the house.
He turned off the Range Rover, and the sound of his shoes followed me in a much quicker stride. I got to the side of the house where the maid’s quarters’ door was before he hooked his hand around my elbow to stop me.
“This isn’t your house.”
I turned to him. “Not technically. I was never on the paperwork to this house, but I was the executrix of the trust.”
His face was mostly in shadow, save for a single safety light throwing harsh white light across his cheekbones. “I bought it from the bank.”
“Because it went into foreclosure almost immediately. My grandmother had a reverse mortgage on it that I didn’t know about.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I didn’t even get through the reading of the will before I was told the bank had taken the property, and you bought it.”
“That’s proprietary information through the bank.”
“This is a small town, Blake. Of course everyone knew who bought Annabelle Stuart’s house. Lady’s Cove is one of the oldest areas in Marblehead.”
Something flashed across his face, but it was too dark. I didn’t know if it was surprise, or that he’d actually been trying to keep this secret. “Your name isn’t Stuart.”
