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“I don’t think so,” Hunter says with a smile. “I just don’t want to disturb your weekend and be responsible for your wife facing a homicide charge.”
Preston laughs. “I’m sure she won’t mind if you have to call or text me.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“I’m just sorry I can’t help more, but…”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’ll see you early on Monday to run through everything before we put the proposal in, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll come by your office at eight.”
“That’s perfect.” Hunter ends the call, pressing a button on the steering wheel as he glances at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Was I supposed to write any of that down?”
He smiles. “No. We’re nearly at the house now. I’m sure I can remember it all for the next few minutes.”
I smile back at him, knowing he’s a lot more efficient than he’s suggesting. He recalled the content of Preston’s email, which he can’t have had more than a few minutes to glance at before leaving the office.
He grabs a small device from the space between us and presses a button, then signals to turn left, spinning the wheel and replacing the device at the same time. I glance out the window, my breath catching when I see wrought-iron gates opening, and Hunter drives the car through them onto a long driveway.
Suddenly, I’m more focused on what’s outside the car, and I take in the wide lawns, the mature trees and… eventually, the extensive house that comes into view. I’d expected it to be big, just from Hunter’s description, but this is enormous. It’s painted white, and is formed in a ‘U’ shape around a courtyard. There’s a double garage off to one side, but he parks out front, opening the door and getting out, before coming around to help me. I’m in a daze as I climb out, holding onto his hand and staring at the stately building before me.
“You can’t see the guest cottage from here… or the pool.”
“You have a pool?”
He smiles. “Yes, but it’s around the other side of the house.” I turn, glancing at the double garage behind me. “Pat and Mick live over there,” he says, and I look back at him.
“Who are Pat and Mick, and why do they live in your garage?”
He laughs. “Pat’s the housekeeper and Mick is her husband… and they don’t live in the garage. They live in the apartment above it.”
“Oh, I see.” I can feel myself blushing.
“They look after this place, and have done since Mom left, when Dad employed them to take care of everything… including his children.”
I can hear the bitterness in his voice and I release his hand and move around, standing in front of him and looking up into his eyes. “Are you still resentful about that?”
“Not anymore, no. But I used to be.” He stares at me for a long moment and then blinks, biting his bottom lip. “I—I probably should have mentioned… they’re not here this weekend.”
“Who? Pat and Mick?”
He nods his head. “They’ve gone to visit Pat’s sister, but I’d forgotten… until now. Obviously, Drew’s in the Caribbean and I’m not entirely sure where Ella is. If she’s back from Paris, she’ll be at Drew’s place in the city, but…”
“What you’re trying to tell me is, we’re alone.”
“Yeah. Sorry. That wasn’t intentional.”
He looks so contrite, I have to smile. “It’s okay, Hunter. I trust you.”
His eyes widen, and after just a second’s hesitation, he smiles. “Shall I show you around?”
“Sure.” He pops the trunk and grabs my bag, along with another – presumably his own – which is made of dark-tan leather, and looks very expensive next to mine. Then he closes the trunk and pauses, just for a moment, offering me his hand again. I take it and let him lead me to the front door. He drops the bags, putting his key in the lock, and then lets me enter ahead of him, although he keeps a hold of my hand the entire time. I gaze around me, vaguely aware that he’s closing the door, and I stare at the enormous space before me. The floor is oak, the walls are white and the stairs are right ahead of us, stretching up to a galleried landing above. There are five doors, and to our left, an archway.
Hunter dumps the bags and takes me straight through the archway into a huge living area with a vast fireplace and several brown leather couches. There’s no television in here, and not a book in sight, although there are some very nice paintings hanging on the walls.
“I don’t often use this room,” he says, leading me through it, into the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life. In common with the rest of the house, it seems, there’s a lot of white in here, from the floor, to the cabinets. The countertop is a very pale gray, and at the island unit are some slightly darker wicker chairs.
