Chapter Two
Marcus
When I saw the sign for the Open House, I nearly drove off the road in my haste to pull a U-turn and get here as fast as I could. I’d wanted one of these cottages for as long as I remembered. Had prized the things. Coveted them.
Dreamed to make one mine.
Did I expect Cadence Crawford to answer the door?
Hell no.
Was I thrilled?
Fuck yes.
Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I remembered hearing he was a realtor. The kid, make that, gorgeous man had always been ambitious, and that industry certainly demanded cutthroat tactics.
I followed him back through the house and waited impatiently as he went outside to retrieve the sign. At least the house was mine. I could afford the price. It’d be tight, but I’d make it work.
He gave me a wicked grin as he grasped my hand and led us up the rickety staircase, I admired both his ass and the fine construction of the house. It had to be seventy or eighty years old, but she had good bones. I envisioned my living space on the ground floor, with an accessible bedroom for Shannon, as well as a couple of bedrooms up here. If they were small, I might knock out a wall and create one massive room. And likely the bathroom would need upgrading. Dollar signs clouded my vision.
“I’ll show you the master first.”
He had said our room. Had he moved into Gertie and Mabel’s bedroom? I followed him into the space and the explosion of floral décor nearly floored me.
Shannon, a girly girl, hasn’t had these many flowers.
The bedspread, the drapes, the wallpaper, the dust ruffle…the stuff was everywhere.
“You didn’t redecorate?”
His casual shrug didn’t fool me.
“I figured the next owners would do that.”
“You couldn’t bear it, could you?”
Piercing blue eyes lit with an intensity I rarely witnessed.
“No, I couldn’t. Miss Mabel loved floral. Gertie didn’t want it in the rest of the house, but she acquiesced here.”
He ran his hand across the bedspread. “I know it won’t stay this way. Nor should it. But I couldn’t be the one to do it. Might I make a few less bucks? Sure. But my heart stays intact.”
God, he was killing me. I touched his arm, and he leaned into it. “She had a good life. And Gertie’s not gone yet.”
“It still hurts.”
“Yeah, it does.”
He pressed his hand to mine and we held still. Then he shook his head. “Bathroom.”
There was only one on this floor, and although an ensuite would be nice, I was willing to make any kind of accommodations to get this place. I poked my head in, looked around, then pulled back. “The seventies called, they want their paisley back.”
He guffawed. “That was the last time the place was renovated.”
He tapped the wall. “You could do a total gut job or just a remodel.”
Those dollar signs were getting bigger every moment.
“Let’s see the sewing room.”
He pointed to an open door.
I stepped into the room. The sloped ceiling meant I had to duck.
A bench seat sat in front of the dormer window which looked out over the street.
“Miss Mabel sat and sewed there well into her nineties. She only gave it up when her vision failed her.”
I glanced over to him as he smiled.
“And yes, at least it’s dusky rose and not Pepto-Bismol pink.”
The room needed a paint job, and I wasn’t convinced it’d stay the same color. “This would make a great kid’s bedroom.”
He met my gaze. “If one is inclined to have children. Yes, this room and mine are perfect for kids.”
“You were going to show me your bedroom?”
I wanted to ask him how he felt about children, but the moment felt too tenuous. We were too early into this.
Whatever this was.
I followed him out of the room. We passed the open door to the linen closet and then were at the last door.
“In here.”
Cadence’s cheeks pinkened as I passed him.
His blue eyes sparkled, as they always did when he was amused. His hair was longer than he used to keep it, almost to his shoulders, and the dark waves curled in that perfect way I loved. I wanted to hold on and never let go. His cheekbones were sharper than when he was younger. More sculpted. And that dimple on his chin got me every time.
Focus.
I pivoted. The space was roomier than I expected. The dark-wood paneling was very retro. A desk sat in front of a window looking south. I headed that way. The view, despite the pouring rain, was amazing—the southern part of Mission City, the bridge to Abbotsford, and the mountains beyond. “I bet you can see Baker on a sunny day.”
“You can.”
The smile lit his voice. “I spent a lot of time daydreaming while watching the dormant volcano.”
I turned back. “What did you dream of?”
“Fame. Fortune. Being the best ballet dancer in the world.”
He ducked his head for a moment before looking back and meeting my gaze. “You.”
Why did that word make me sad and happy at the same time? Sad for the time we lost and happy because we’d found each other again. I eyed the double bed. Our fit would be tight. “You want to talk?”
That was the right thing to do. I mean, we hadn’t spent five minutes in each other’s company in about twelve years. Cadence came by a few times after Shan’s accident. But she sent him away—as she had everyone else—and he hadn’t had a reason to come back. I didn’t blame him. But I’d missed him. His quirky sense of humor. His lovely laugh. His smile that went on forever.
“Can we talk later?”
He bit his lower lip. “You said I could fuck you, and given how many times I fantasized about just that, I really want action now and talk later.”
My cock leapt back to life. I could do this. I might be a little out of practice, but I could do this. “How do you want me?”
“On your back. I want to look you in the eyes when you come.”
Well, that was good enough for me.