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He holds out his hand. “It’s a good day, right? You’re having a good day?”
“Yeah, I’m having a good day.”
“Then trust me.”
I take his hand and let him help me up. “All right. I’ll trust you for a little bit longer. But I reserve the right to safe word the hell out of here.”
“The moment you say it, I’ll drive you straight home.” He kisses my cheek. “But you won’t.”
Chapter34
Keely
He drives me out to the suburbs.
I’m not sure what I expected, but definitely not this. Nolan seems out of place beyond the city limits, like the moment the streets widen and the lawns look clean, he suddenly feels like an anachronism. A product of another world and a different time.
Boston proper turns to old single-family houses. Victorian-style structures with peaked roofs, lovely landscaping, and columns around big front porches. Beautiful, shady avenues, and lots of little local shops. “Reminds me of home,” I say quietly as he turns into a neighborhood.
“Really? You don’t talk about home much.”
“There isn’t a whole lot to say. My parents are assholes. My small town was stifling. I got out of there as soon as I could.”
“But it looked like this?”
I hesitate. “Not as nice,” I admit.
“This is one of the best zip codes on the East Coast. There’s old money here.” He drives slowly. I stare at the massive houses, at the pristine bushes and trees, at the nice cars parked in the driveways.
“Nice place to raise kids, I bet.” I glance at him and note the smile on his face. Like he’s happy I made that comment.
“Schools are perfect. Private or public, they’re both fantastic.”
He approaches a home at the far end of the street on a shady dead-end corner. A small forest extends away, and the house’s yard breaks up against it. Nolan parks in the driveway, killing the engine.
I squint around. “What are we doing here? You’re not kidnapping me, are you?”
“I already did that,” he says. “I like to keep things fresh. Can’t repeat old ideas. Come on.” He gets out without an explanation.
I don’t love this situation but I can’t just sit in the car all day. I follow him, feeling nervous as we go around the walkway to the porch. “Are we breaking into this place?” I ask as he approaches the door. “We’re not robbing it, are we?”
“I’m too rich to risk a burglary charge.” He chuckles as he looks around for a minute before flipping over a small, decorative turtle. Underneath is a key taped to the bottom. He grabs it, unlocks the door, and steps inside.
I hesitate, feeling uncomfortable. “Seriously, Nolan, what the hell is going on? Do you own this place?”
“No,” he says, beckoning me to follow. “Not yet anyway.”
I step into a beautiful entry foyer. Light streams in from high windows. An office with a piano to the left, a den to the right. Straight ahead, past the lovely staircase framed by oil paintings, a living room and a kitchen, all modern, filled with expensive furniture.
“Okay,” I say, stopping myself beside the island. “Explain. Now. Or I’m out of here.”
“This place is coming onto the market tomorrow,” he says, looking around, poking his head into cabinets, opening drawers. “The owners are friendly with my family, and graciously allowed me to come take a look before the listing goes live.”
“This house is for sale?”
He nods, not looking at me. “Five bedrooms. Three bathrooms. Fully redone basement. Two offices. Two living areas. Three-car garage. Huge yard. Pool, patio, everything you could want.”
“Why are we here?”
