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“No,” she told him.
“Okay, good. I want to take you to my house.” He glanced at her and waited for her reaction. Did she know where he lived? Most people did. When she told him she knew who he was, a big weight had lifted from his shoulders. While he appreciated the anonymity for the night, he felt like he’d kept a secret from her. Still, he was curious how she figured it out.Fucking Google.
When he turned onto Bellevue Avenue, she gasped. “You live in one of these houses, don’t you?”
He nodded. “It’s a family home. My parents live there as well. I have an apartment on the third floor. My cousin sometimes stays with me, but he lives in Boston. His parents used to live in the house as well, but they moved to Florida.”
“Jesus. How big is your house?”
Rhys stopped and signaled to turn down the long driveway. After the traffic passed and the gate opened, he turned. From the driveway, you couldn’t really see his home, not until the trees gave way.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “Pinch me.”
Rhys laughed. “Come on.” He got out of the car and helped Maisie out. “It’s late. I’ll give you a tour tomorrow.”
“How long will that take?” she laughed.
“Well, since my parents aren’t home to pepper us with questions, only a couple of hours. They’ve done an amazing job of preserving everything, even if I don’t like the decor, except our living quarters. Those are fairly modern.” The fact that his parents were gone for the weekend worked in his favor, especially since they had taken Fenway with them. Rhys wanted to be alone with Maisie, and not have his looky-loo mom poking around the corner.
“Like with electricity?”
“Exactly.”
They entered through one of the side doors and went up the back staircase until they reached the third floor. Rhys opened the door to his apartment and Maisie gasped when she crossed the threshold.
“Holy shit!”
“Look around,” he said as he went to his sound system and found his favorite jazz album. Over the years, he had collected as many old (and remastered) vinyl albums as he could. He loved the sound of an album versus the music he played via his Bluetooth speaker. There was something special about listening to an album. Rhys took the vinyl from its protective sheet and set it down on the platter of his turntable. He moved the tone arm into place and stepped back as the smooth sounds of Miles Davis echoed throughout his living room.
He walked over to Maisie, took her coat from her shoulders and tossed it onto his couch. “Dance with me.”
Maisie turned and placed her hand into his. They began swaying to the music. “I kind of feel like Cinderella right now.”
“I’m not sure I like that analogy,” he told her.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you save lives and don’t have a mean stepmom telling you to clean her house—unless you’re hiding that from me. And I’m definitely not Prince Charming.”
“Oh, I don’t know about the Prince Charming part.” Maisie ran her fingers through Rhys’s hair. “He had dark hair, was dashingly handsome, and was polite, too.”
Rhys laughed lightly. “And a fool for letting Cinderella go. I’m not letting you go at midnight.”
“That’s because I’d get lost in this house.”
Now, he chuckled. “That’s very true.”
They leaned forward at the same time and kissed. There was zero hesitation between them and after one swipe of their lips together, they were in a heated, passionate embrace.
“Spend the night with me,” Rhys suggested in between kisses.
“No clothes,” she gasped out her answer.
“You won’t need them tonight,” he said as he picked her up and carried her to his room. “I own a store that sells clothes, I have samples here.”
“In that case, you’ve convinced me. Yes, I’ll stay,” she said as they fell onto the bed.
Rhys hovered over Maisie and looked into her soulful brown eyes. “I really, really can’t thank you enough for taking that ad out.”
