Chapter Four Isabella
“I take it you’re not original to North Carolina?” Twizz asks while we wait for the listings I pulled to print.
“What makes you ask that?” I answer with a raised brow.
“Most of the people around here,” he visibly gazes around the office. “Have blonde hair and blue eyes.”
Is he insinuating that I’m not as attractive as the others? “If you think I stand out, you should look in the mirror, Twizz.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” He shifts in his seat and leans forward, his eyes moving from side to side before speaking.
“There is no comparison to the others. They all look like carbon copies spit out of a machine. You, on the other hand, look like a goddess from the Mediterranean. Maybe Greece or Italy.”
“Wow. Thank you.” That’s a surprise. Certainly not what I expected him to say. Flattered, he left me a bit flustered. I blink and try to keep my smile from spreading ear to ear. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Just calling it like I see it,” he says with his eyes locked on mine.
“Then I’ll do the same.” I hope to give him a helpful piece of advice.
“If you’re looking to blend in here, you might want to go back to your natural hair color.
Purple isn’t a common color in the South.
Sure, kids and teenagers dye their hair bold colors, but not so much grown men.
” And I’ve never seen one wear it better.
He sits a little straighter. “But purple is your favorite color.”
“My favorite color?” How would he know that? It’s not like he walked in here, saw me, and had his hair dyed. Did he? Have I met Twizz before?
“Your nail polish is a pretty shade of lilac.” He picks a pen out of the holder on my desk. “Purple pens.” He holds it up as if to prove his point. “Purple vase,” he motions with his hand. “And a violet mouse pad.”
I sit back in my chair. Wow is he observant. I didn’t even realize I had so much purple around me. And as attentive as he’s been, I hadn’t noticed Twizz staring at my desk or its objects. Just a quick glance around the office here and there.
“Yes,” I admit. “Purple is my favorite color. That being said, I don’t change my hair color because of it, and I doubt you did either.”
“Are you saying purple doesn’t look good on me?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. I could lie and pretend it looks hideous. Or I could be honest and admit that the longer I sit and talk to him, the more drawn in I am, purple hair and all.
Instead, I turn toward the printer on the side of my desk and grab the listings from the tray. “It’s time to go look at some houses,” I say in as cheery a tone as possible.
“Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of inventory in this price range,” I say as we head out toward my sedan.
“How many houses are we going to see?”
“Four. But not one of them has all of your requirements.”
“Meaning?”
“Something is missing. Either the property size is smaller than desired and closer to neighbors, or there aren’t enough bedrooms—”
“That’s a no-go. We need the bedrooms.”
My mind dissects the sentence like my mother tried to get me to do when I was in school. She said when she was a kid, they had to break down sentences into subjects, verbs, and describing words. Right now I’m focusing on the subject we.
Is Twizz going to live in the house he’s helping to purchase? If so, does that mean that he and his master are a couple? Is master a sub/dom title?
The next word to jump out to me is bedrooms. Meaning multiple, more than one. Does that imply that if he will be living there, they won’t be sharing a bedroom? Fingers crossed on that one.
“Basements?” He interrupts my internal dialogue.
“Fully underground basements aren’t as popular here as they are in the north.” I continue, setting my personal thoughts to the side for now. “Something to do with the freezing point and water table. We have a lot more flooding, even though we’re a few hours away from the ocean.”
Twizz exhales loudly, looking out of the car window. “That’s most unfortunate.”
“We’re going to see two houses that have walkout basements.”
Twizz gets quiet again, and I take a sideward glance at him, still struck by how perfect and natural his purple hair looks on him. Maybe it was an accident gone right?
I guess it’s possible that he dyed his hair some shade of blonde and went straight into a pool after the fact.
Although I always heard chlorine turns hair green.
I’m probably thrown off by the fact that I have never seen anyone wear this particular shade before, which is unfortunate, because it would sell off the shelves.
Pair the hair with his cerulean blue eyes and pale skin, not to mention his physique, and this man is captivating. At least to me.
When walking to my car, I noticed that he’s taller than me, but only by about four inches. Not so tall that I’d need to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. He’s not tall and lengthy like I originally thought. He looks solid and strong, though. Not fat or chubby, not at all. He’s just right.
I have no idea why I keep sizing Twizz up romantically. Sure, he’s good-looking and perceptive. Probably noticed more about me in the fifteen minutes we sat at my desk than my last boyfriend did after three months of dating.
Now, my car is perfumed with the scent of his cedary-citrusy cologne. I’m tempted to lean over and sniff his neck. He’s so odd; I wonder how he’d react if I did that.
And with his we comments, I’m not sure if he’s into women in a romantic way, which would be just my luck. But from the moment Twizz walked in and sat down at my desk, my imagination has been working at warp speed.
I try not to look at Twizz as we drive because every time I glance over, I seem to be undressing him with my eyes.
I hope he hasn’t noticed. How freaking embarrassing if he has.
Either way, it’s his fault. He made inappropriate and suggestive comments about his sleeping habits, and his...
junk. Who can blame a girl for wondering if it’s because he’s packing heat or because he has small-dick complex?
“We don’t usually have walk-in clients who want to look at property on the same day. Most of our business is scheduled by appointment.” I explain.
“There’s no urgency in that business model.”
He’s right, but it’s my job at the moment to disagree with him.
There’s something different, magnetic about this man that I want to put my finger on, perhaps my entire body-that remains to be seen.
But I can’t place what it is that makes me feel like I want to be held in his arms. Held in his heart.
That is the most ridiculous thought I’ve had about him yet, and there are plenty of ridiculous thoughts to challenge that one.
Like the fact that his skin is unusually pale.
It almost glows. If he didn’t walk into the office on a bright sunny day, I’d swear he spent his life underground, never seeing sunlight, sort of like a vampire. Bet he can pass as one.
“I’m just saying, a little notice helps us search for the listings that match your criteria.”
“You mean to tell me that the houses we’re going to see are a waste of time?” He asks, forcing me to focus on him and not my thoughts.
“No.” Maybe. Still, there’s a definite benefit to looking. To spending more time with him. Maybe then I can figure out if I’ve met Twizz before and just don’t remember, although I can’t imagine that I’d forget him—even if his hair wasn’t purple.
At least driving keeps me from gaping at him with drool dripping out of my mouth while we talk.
Hmm. As the miles pass, my thoughts become more off-color.
As I start to consider all the weird and strange things this man can be, starting with albino and ending with vampire, my inexplicable attraction to him grows.
If this man is causing me this much trouble in my own head, I can’t imagine what he’d do if he were a regular in my life. I need to focus on the sale, not the man sitting next to me.
“You look pensive. Is there something else you wished to say?”
I take a peek over at Twizz, who looks like he’s been trying to solve an impossible math problem since I told him each of these properties is missing a requirement.
I shrug. “Do you still want to see these homes? Maybe to get an idea of what’s out there and what the price point is?”
“We need the bedrooms.” He repeats again. “In addition to his bedroom, Master Larkin needs an office and a guest room. A gym because of his odd hours. A home theater. Just to name a few.”
I restrain myself from asking where Twizz is going to sleep in this big house, as I once again heard “we.” Something about Twizz has my mind itching.
I glance at him in the passenger seat of my car, looking far too comfortable for a stranger in a new town.
Especially for a man who seems to embody the night.
That’s it! That’s what’s been bugging me!
He looks like he can easily blend in with the night. Like your eyes are meant to skip over him in the dark. I guess it’s possible that he tailored his appearance to do just that, but only a person that’s—Oh, fuck!
Nothing about him adds up, until it does. As I shift the puzzle pieces around in my mind, the picture they’re creating isn’t pretty. I need to stay calm and not give away my suspicions.
I circle back toward the office, taking a different road, not sure I want to go much further with Twizz. I mean, what the hell is wrong with me? Even his name is strange.