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A biker. And also a… gentleman?
Who would believe me if I tried to tell them?
Aside from, maybe, Myles?
With that, though, I grabbed my dogs, making sure to keep a wide berth around the dog from the ring, then following Remy into the house.
And, well, yeah.
If the outside was gorgeous, the inside was pretty insane. It was dominated by white walls and windows with accents of blues throughout the whole lower level.
The foyer led past a small den or office, then into the open kitchen/living room combo with a laundry and full bath off of the kitchen.
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head as I struggled to imagine myself staying there even temporarily, even though I was there to do just that.
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve been to a lot of Teddy’s places, but this is definitely one of the nicest ones I’ve seen. That fucking pool,” he added, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding. “And it has a privacy wall so the neighbors don’t watch you. The architect thought of everything.”
“I’m gonna put this guy in the laundry room until we get everything set up, okay?”
“That’s probably the safest bet,” I agreed, giving the sweet guy a smile as he looked up at me.
“Go be a good boy, okay?” I asked, and I swear the dog gave me a nod. I mean, that was probably crazy. But I did believe that most dogs understood a lot more than we give them credit for.
We made our way up the stairs, and I did my best to grit my teeth and not complain as the climbing made my ribs scream, and silently hoping that after some rest, the ribs would give me a little bit of a break, so I could do the steps several times a day to take care of the dogs.
The top level was a lot like the lower with the white and blue. There were two guest rooms and one master suite with its own balcony and a walk-in closet that was bigger than my bathroom, and a bathroom that was bigger than my bedroom.
“They’re good together?” Remy asked as I took the leashes off of my girls in the bedroom.
“Yeah. Alma kind of views Blanche and Hattie as her babies, I think, because they are so small. She’s very gentle with them.”
“Blanche and Hattie?” Remy asked, smirking.
“I like using classic names for the dogs I get to name.”
“And by ‘classic,’ you mean ‘old lady,’ right?”
“Well, sort of, yeah,” I admitted.
“Does that mean Scar downstairs is going to get an old man name?”
“That’s a great idea actually,” I decided. “Maybe a Lyle. He looks like a Lyle,” I said, patting my girls. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Try not to mess anything up, or we are going to owe the nice billionaire a buttload of money,” I told them as I closed the door, taking a deep breath to try to gain some courage to go down the stairs.
“Go sit your pretty ass down in the living room and watch the fish. I got the rest of this,” Remy demanded as we got to the lower level, and I was pretty sure I stopped being able to keep the whimpers in when we were only halfway down.
I wanted to object, but I honestly wasn’t sure if I could make it back out the car, so I did what he told me.
I plopped my ass down on the white couch. Yes, white. Never mind my animals being a concern for light colors, I didn’t trust myself not to stain something white.
Across from the couch, situated between two of the windows, was a big, tall fish tank with its white sand and white driftwood, smattered with live plants and hideaways.
I spotted two angelfish, some guppies, and a weird snake-like thing at the bottom of the tank.
My parents were fish people. Probably because they didn’t like pets as a whole, and viewed fish more as decor.
I’d never been allowed to have any animals growing up, which was likely why I went so over-the-top about them as an adult.
