AllFreeNovel
Share Us
For a fraction of a second, Bree’s hot-cocoa eyes lit with the barest hint of a spark, but then she shrugged. Her enormous backpack listed awkwardly off one shoulder, and although it took effort, she hitched it back into place over her slight frame and walked inside the cottage. “Whatever. I’m going to my room.”
“Okeydoke. Let me know if you need anything, I guess.”
Sloane watched the girl retreat down the hall with a shrug. While it would be easier if they were civil to each other, especially for the tutoring part of things, she wasn’t going to bend over backward to get the kid to open up if she didn’t want to do it. All Sloane needed in order to get paid was to keep her out of trouble and get her up to speed in English. Being friends was optional.
Although how many friends could Bree have if she was hitching rides with the vice principal?
Sloane shook the chill from her favorite bright red pea coat and wandered into the cottage, pushing the front door snugly back into the frame behind her. The tastefully understated entryway split in two directions, the one in which Bree had fled and the other that led into a living room as understated as the entryway.
The only thing not painted stark white or lined in modern chrome were the hardwood planks beneath her feet, and although their black cherry color went beautifully with the décor, their warmth seemed at odds with the crisp, serious lines of everything above them. A series of black and white prints graced the walls, imposing oversized mats edged in elegant, glossy frames. They were all landscapes, and upon closer inspection, Sloane noted the curling, woody vines of different vineyards, some with rolling fields in the distance, others surrounded by groves of thin-leaved olive trees. A strange sensation worked its way up from the depths of her chest, unfurling like a favorite blanket on the first night of winter.
“Tuscany,” she whispered, an involuntary smile forming on her lips as she examined each photograph in turn. Given his occupation, it made sense that Gavin had likely traveled to Europe, although she had to fess up to the fact that the culinary school thing had thrown her for a loop. Food was so evocative—hell, Sloane had seen Carly get so torqued up over plain old mushrooms that she’d cried in the middle of a farmer’s market once. Gavin didn’t really seem the type.
The adjacent kitchen showcased black granite countertops flowing seamlessly into stainless steel appliances, and Sloane meandered in with the rhythmic clack of boots on tile. Not a single dirty dish in the sink, no signs of a hastily eaten breakfast scattered across the table in the side nook. Even the matte silver trash can was devoid of fingerprints.
Okay, really? Did humans live here?
A quick inventory of the contents of the fridge told her Gavin hadn’t been kidding when he’d said they were stocked, and she liberated a couple of grapes from a bowl on the top shelf. They burst on her tongue, their thin skin so taut, it crunched as she chewed. Three different kinds of mustard, assorted fruit, a half-wheel of Brie…okay, maybe culinary school wasn’t that much of a stretch. She gave the pantry door a quick pull and promptly stopped short, blinking a few times to make sure her vision was working properly.
“Whoa.” Sloane felt her eyes go wide, and she stepped back to take in the baffling visual inventory. The shelves had been removed from the bottom third of the widened pantry, replaced by a stainless steel and smoked glass refrigerator that came up to her thigh. She folded her legs beneath her in a quick kneel to get a better look, chewing her lip as she thought.
“But why would you have two refrigerators?” Her murmur caught on a surprised breath as she registered the digital temperature readouts in the corner by the handle, and she tugged the door open. The unit hummed its approval in a steady sigh, but it didn’t take a genius to see that this was far from an ordinary spare fridge.
Sturdy black shelves, set on tiny casters that allowed them to roll out on a whisper, sat stacked one on top of the other in neat rows. Rounded grooves marked the spaces in every row like perfectly symmetrical waves, and Sloane slid each shelf out for quick yet reverent appraisal. The muted light from behind her spilled in to illuminate the carefully reclined bottles, and she ran her fingers over their slender necks gently, as if afraid to wake them. Chardonnay, Riesling, Pinot Grigio…there had to be nearly a hundred labels, all meticulously separated by type and vintage.
Looked like the Ice King was passionate about something after all.
“I’m pretty sure he counts those, just in case you’re getting any ideas.”
Sloane jumped up so fast she nearly gave herself a head rush, clapping a hand over her sternum as she released the wine cellar door to whirl around. “Jesus, kid! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Undaunted, Bree glared at her from the doorway. “You shouldn’t snoop. It’s rude.”
“What are you, the pantry police?” Sloane volleyed, dishing up a pinched face of her own. “And for the record, sneaking up on people doesn’t rank too high in the proper etiquette department either.”
“I came to get something to eat.” Bree crossed the kitchen, yanking the real refrigerator open with a huff. “I can’t help it if I caught you poking around in my brother’s stuff.”
“Looking in the pantry isn’t poking around. Riffling through someone’s underwear drawer, now that’s snooping.” Maybe a little humor would loosen this kid up.
But Bree just rolled her eyes and reached into the deli drawer for a package of string cheese. “Save your energy. The only thing in there besides boxer shorts is a bunch of stupid pictures.”
Sloane clamped down on her surprise, but only by a thread. “Like the ones on the walls out there?” She gestured to the living room. The vineyard shots seemed a lot more personal now that she’d gotten a glimpse of Gavin’s extensive wine collection.
“Hardly.” Bree buried her scoff in a bite of mozzarella, following up with a silence that gave Sloane no choice but to push or change the subject.
Oh, screw it. She was tired of beating around the bush with this kid. “Listen, it would probably make things easier on both of us if you dialed back on your attitude while you’re stuck with me. Your brother is pretty adamant about you catching up in English class, and the faster we get you there, the faster I’ll leave you alone.”
“Right. Like you’d leave me alone.”
“You’re making it awfully tempting.” The quip was out before Sloane could bite down on it.
Bree’s eyes flashed. “If I let you tutor me and we get caught up with all my classwork tonight, would you really leave me alone after that?” Her disbelieving glance refused to waver.
Sloane hesitated. “You do know how much classwork we’re talking about, right?”
Before they’d left La Dolce Vita, Gavin had mentioned at least four outstanding writing assignments, along with the required reading Bree needed to do in order to complete them. That alone would take hours, and Sloane suspected those four papers weren’t everything on the to-do list of missed assignments.
Bree didn’t flinch. “Yeah. Would you?”
