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“Whatever. He’s a douche,” she grumbles.
Shrugging, I finish my muffin and grab the bag of food that I know will have to sustain me through the weekend, although I’d never admit that to Elisha, but I’m pretty sure she knows based on how many muffins and bagels she shoved into one of the bags.
“Go get ’em, lady!” Elisha cheers me on as I walk to the door. “Give him hell!”
“That’s right, Adam Wellington! You’re about to meet your match,” I mutter to myself as I get into my car that’s parked along Main Street. It takes three attempts to start it, but when it purrs to life, I breathe a sigh of relief and drive down the street to pick up my dog on the way to Wellington Estate. What’s the worst thing that can happen? He says no and I go back home. Yep, that would be the worst thing for sure. Aside from that whole trespassing, arrest, and jail-with-a-metal-toilet thing.
CHAPTERTWO
Isa
“Come on, you just peed like five seconds ago,” I groan as I pull my dog, Felipe, toward my car.
He wags his tail happily and starts to dig up the dirt. “Fuck, come on, you literally just got bathed,” I scold as I wave to my mom’s friend Mrs. Huber who graciously washes Felipe once a month for a fraction of the price. In return, I waive her late fees at the library. Quid pro quo.
Felipe sees a cat down the road and nearly launches me into oncoming traffic. There’s a reason I don’t attempt to clean my Great Dane on my own, he weighs more than me, and my bathroom would not survive it.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I ask him as I pull on his lead and he magically sits down and gives me a giant dog grin with his tongue hanging out.
“You know, when you do that, it’s very hard to stay mad at you?”
He barks his agreement and I roll my eyes as I open my car door and usher him inside.
“We have one stop on the way home, buddy,” I say as I pull out onto Main Street, heading out of town. The clouds are thickening in the sky, and I shiver as I look up at them. A dusting my ass, there’s at least two inches of snow up there.
I contemplate turning around but it’s only five more miles to the turnoff for the Wellington Estate. No one comes out here. Ever since Christopher and Janet Wellington were killed in a car crash, it’s almost like the estate is empty, but I know Adam Wellington is out here. People see him on rare occasions, but mostly it’s because of his personal chef, Bastian Greer, who is dating the chef who owns our local pub. Bastian is a hoot and I have a feeling he’s the exact opposite of Adam Wellington if I was a betting woman, which I’m not.
My cell phone rings, and I press the speaker button and answer it. “Hi, Dad,” I state as I turn on my windshield wipers, which only smear the snow instead of wiping it away.
“Hey, turtle dove, I just wanted to make sure you got home, it looks like we’re getting more than a dusting.”
“Yeah, I can see that, I just have to make a quick stop and then I’ll be home.”
“Good, good. How’s that grant situation, kiddo?”
“It’s…uh, going…” I stammer. Ugh. I may have decided to do all this grant stuff on my own. I know my parents would help me out, but I want to accomplish it without them. I just want to make them proud, and I’m not ready to give in yet.
“Well, give that Adam kid hell. I hear he’s nothing like his old man,” Dad encourages.
“I will. I should go, Dad. I’ll talk to you later,” I say as I disconnect right before turning off on Wellington Lane, home to one house…if you can call it that…the thing is a monstrosity.
The house emerges as I drive up a lane that’s covered by trees. Even in the dead of winter, the branches form a thick tunnel that keeps the view of the estate hidden until you reach the end of it. And then it’s there, Wellington Estate. I’ve not ever been out here, just catching glimpses of it through a nearby apple orchard. It looks sort of like a castle with turrets and stones and a big wooden front door.
“All this place needs is a moat with alligators,” I say to Felipe as he too leans forward to take in the colossal dwelling.
“Here goes nothing,” I state as I park my car and open the door. Felipe jumps out and I glare at him.
“Buddy, I don’t think you’re welcome inside,” I say as I reach into the passenger side and grab the pastries that Elisha gave me as a peace offering.
The front door opens, and I look up to see Bastian struggling with a backpack that even on his tall frame looks enormous. He pauses mid shoulder-strap adjustment and looks at Felipe and then me.
“Uh…hey, Isa…and Felipe,” he manages as his eyes widen. Everyone in town knows my dog, mostly because we look ridiculous every time we walk down Main Street. I probably should just ride him like a small horse instead of pretending I am some sort of dog owner who can control my canine that could easily drag me in any direction.
“Hey,” I reply as I yank on Felipe’s leash, and he sits and tilts his enormous head to the side. I don’t have to look at him to know his tongue is hanging out and he’s waiting for Bastian to come pet him and also give him a treat because that’s their normal interaction. Why Bastian always has dog treats in his pockets is a question that’s been on the tip of my tongue many times, but I’ve always been too shy to ask, and to be fair, half the time, I’m in the middle of listening to a good audiobook and don’t want to pause it to have a social interaction. Dog-walking time equals audiobook reading for me. And all the times we’ve hung out at Elisha’s café, it’s never once crossed my mind.
Bastian looks around as if the reason for my sudden appearance out here is going to fall out of the sky along with the snow. He quickly steps back inside and waves his hand for us to come into the house…house? Can you really call this thing a house?
I stop questioning my internal dialogue and quickly pull Felipe inside.
