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“Planes?” Her eyebrow lifts inquisitively as she emphasizes the ‘s.’ “As inyouown more than one?”
Turning my attention back to the winding tree-lined roads before me, I respond, “The Cessna, which you flew in on, is good for shorter trips and landing at smaller airports like this one. The Challenger is much larger and designed for longer flights. Because of its size, it requires a runway able to handle a commercial airliner.”
“Oh,” her voice trickles off as we approach the sprawling mansions on the outskirts of town. Glancing at her in the rearview, her mouth is slightly agape as she stares out the window.
“Try not to get drool on the window,” I jokingly address her.
“No promises,” she quips. “These homes are downright incredible.”
“They don’t have homes like this where you’re from?”
“Father,” Garrison scowls as he nudges my arm.
“It’s fine, Garr.” Her voice is soft from the backseat. “He’s going to find out eventually.”
“As intrigued as I am to learn.” I turn on the blinker to turn toward my estate. “Why don’t we table this for a moment while we get everyone inside and situated? Then I can learn all about you over a drink by the pool.”
Pulling up to the gate, I slow to allow the sensor in the car to register and slide the gate open.
“Welcome home.” I pull through the gate as it opens. “It’s going to be great having you here.”
CHAPTER
THREE
ABIGAIL
Stepping from the SUV, the home that stands before me is unlike anything I have ever seen. The massive mansion is a beautiful shade of cream-colored brick, accented with black windows and details scattered across the exterior. To the left of the house is a matching, large multi-car garage. Both are completely surrounded, with landscaping so perfect you’d think someone hand-cuts each blade of grass.
“Come.” Grant stands at the bottom of the black steps leading up to the front door. “One of the staff will get your things.”
“I’d really like to grab the gift if you don’t mind.” I begin to walk to the back of the SUV.
“Garrison will grab it for you.” He tips his head at him. “Won’t you, son?”
“Of course, Father,” Garrison responds with an unusual tone.
“Come, Abby.” Grant’s voice is firm, yet welcoming. “Let’s get you a drink, and Garrison will meet us out on the patio.”
Meeting him at the bottom step, he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me up the steps toward the oversized double black doors. When I step inside, I am equally in awe of the décor as I was of the outside of the home.
“You have a beautiful home,” I practically gasp. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s your home too now, dear.” He continues to guide me through the main room of the home and toward the French doors leading into the backyard. “And it’s only almost perfect.”
I’m about to question what he means when Grant asks, “What’s your drink of choice, Abby?”
“A Tennessee Mule,” I respond, watching his brow arch inquisitively.
“A whiskey girl,” he smirks. “Not quite what I would’ve guessed.”
“What? Did I strike you as a rose girl?” I abruptly turn and am met with his chest. Fumbling against him, my hands on his pecs, I suddenly can’t breathe. His large hand wraps around my wrist as I slowly step backward, trying to regain my composure. Gently pulling my hand from his light hold, I stammer, “I’m sorry.”
What the fuck was that?
“Nothing to be sorry about, dear.” His words slow and deep as he pushes open one of the French doors and gestures for me to go through.
As I walk the beautifully landscaped patio and take in the view of the Olympic-sized pool, Grant pulls out his phone. Standing at the edge of it, I stare across the never-ending view of the gardens.
