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“Not the back, baby,” she said as she stepped into his embrace. “It would block the view.”
He held her in his arms, perfectly content for those few seconds. Then he said, “You’re right. Not the back.”
She pulled away slightly and looked at him. “I like this place, Ty.”
“It’s flooded before,” he said. “Last time, about four years ago when Hurricane Fiona tore through here.”
“Well, I’m not new to hurricanes,” she said. “We had them in Texas too. That’s why you don’t put carpet down.” She started walking toward the water.
“It used to be a bit swampy,” he called after her. “Sage, be careful.”
She raised her hand to indicate she’d heard him, but she kept walking. Ty wasn’t sure what to do. There wasn’t a dock here. Nowhere to put a yacht or even a fishing boat. None of the four houses on this lane had that luxury, because this hadn’t turned into one of those gated communities with private yacht facilities.
He also needed to figure out how much this house was worth, so he could give Sage a fair, market-appropriate number. “Please let her be able to afford it,” he whispered as she bent down and touched the water.
She lingered there, probably fifty yards from the house, for a few minutes, and Ty gave her all the time she wanted. When she returned to him, she said, “There’s a little bit of beach. Rocky, but not terribly uneven. I could sit there and read while Gypsy swims.” She smiled like she’d wile away her days doing just that when he knew she’d go stir-crazy within the first hour.
“Let me do some market research,” he said. “We’ll come up with a number, and I’ll take it to my friend.” He put his arm around her. “But first, I believe I’m about to impress you with my lunch-making skills.”
“Oh-ho,” she chortled. “This I’d like to see.”
16
Sage closed her eyes and let the sunshine flow over her as Ty drove them back to his house. As the car slowed, she opened her eyes so she could see where he lived. He turned into a nice neighborhood, the kind where every father probably had synchronized his watch with his neighbors so they could have lawn-mowing parties at eight a.m. on Saturday mornings.
She wondered when Ty mowed his lawn, and then she dismissed that thought. Of course the man didn’t clip his own grass. He was friends with Scott Anderson, and that man owned a landscaping company that couldn’t keep up in the spring, summer, and fall months. Surely Ty hired Scott to get his lawn care needs met.
“Here it is,” he said as he pulled into the two-car driveway of a light…pink house. There was a swooping, circular driveway, and tall white pillars that held up the roof to the second story. Perfectly sculpted shrubs had been trimmed into neat little boxes on trunks, and he had rocks in the front flower bed that probably got power-washed every day.
Not fair, Sage told herself. Of course the top real estate agent on the island would have a nice house. Ty was a neat person too, and he never had a stitch of anything out of place. Sage wanted to see if the man ever dirtied dishes, or if they simply cleaned themselves when he looked at them.
She smiled over to him. “The garage door is brown.”
“The house is pink,” he said. “They sort of go together. You know, the wood on the steps, and—”
“I think it’s amazing,” she interrupted. “It matches the shutters too.” A wide set of steps led up to a concrete porch, where Ty had a potted plant trying to reach the heavens. A ferny-looking thing sat off to the right, where the grass started and went along the side of the house. Trees grew up all around the sides of the house, and she wondered what the view off the back balcony would yield.
He wasn’t beachside, but close enough, and Sage grinned at him as she unbuckled and got out of the car. He came after her, and then led her into the house through the front door. She expected cool colors and crisp lines inside, and she wasn’t disappointed.
Ty seemed like the type of guy to like khaki and gray and soft hues of white. Maybe some seaglass colors like blue and green and maybe even more of that pink that sang from the exterior paint.
She found it all, and more. A deeper blue on a feature wall in his office. Brightly colored nautical art adorned that wall, and when he finally took her hand and led her into the kitchen, Sage realized how very amazing Ty was.
“I got grouper for today,” he said as he released her hand and moved over to the fridge. Everything he did spoke of grace and fluidity, and Sage had only seen him nervous or off his game a couple of times.
Their first date, which she now knew was an outlier in his behavior. Today at the house, where he’d been so stinking nervous. At the luau, where it had taken him seemingly a long time to kiss her out there on the sand. All other times, he was the picture of sophistication and class.
Even now, he wore a pair of light brown khakis and a pale blue polo. It actually matched the sheers he had hanging over the doors that must lead out to that balcony he’d told her about.
“If you want to look around the house, go ahead.” He flashed her a smile. “I can see you chomping at the bit.”
Sage smiled back at him. “I just want to hear those waves.” She slid open the door and ducked through the sheers. The balcony there was made with the same dark wood as out front, and it spanned the entire back of the house. She could go right or left, and to the left was a small table-for-two. She wondered if he ate breakfast there alone before she turned the other way.
The barking of dogs met her ears, and Sage smiled as she walked along the balcony to another set of sliding doors. Ty’s golden retriever and his black lab had their noses to the door there, both of them barking at her.
As she watched, they turned, which signaled Ty’s arrival in his bedroom. The dogs ran toward him, only Sherman barking still. Then the sliding door opened, and both dogs barreled outside. Sage narrowly stepped out of the way, a laugh starting down in her stomach.
Today had been amazing. She could just see herself living in that house on the water, and she could see Gypsy romping through the grass there, then jumping into the water. And there, she’d have plenty of space for him to shake himself off.
