Chapter 33 #2
“Nope.”
“If we just end up at the bar, I’m really gonna be disappointed.”
His deep laughter fills the air, and I sit back to watch the LA jungle give way to mountains, sand, and sea. We pass the bar and my parents’ house and just keep driving.
“So we’re just going all the way to San Diego, then?”
He just keeps driving.
Jerk.
My mind has gone on all kinds of wild tangents by the time he pulls off Highway 1.
Are we visiting a former classmate? No, he doesn’t care about anyone from high school.
Maybe we’re meeting an investor? No. He wouldn’t take me along for something like that, would he?
And if he would, I sure hope he gives me a heads-up so I can wear something other than jeans and a cropped tee.
The driveway we pull into is circular. Private. The once well-manicured landscaping is now overgrown with weeds and bottlebrush. The house itself is in decent shape. The slate tile roof and white stucco exterior have seen better days, but it’s obvious someone put a lot of thought into its design.
“Whose house is this?”
He palms the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside, okay?”
Why does he look nervous all of a sudden?
“All right.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and step out of the car. The smell of saltwater feels like a warm hug, and I can’t help but smile. Some people love the mountains or the desert, but my soul will always belong to the ocean.
He joins me by the hood of the car, taking my hand. “You’re being weird,” I tell him.
“I know.”
Well, at least he’s aware of it. We walk up the walkway. There are more overgrown plants and dead flowers in the planters. “Do the people who own this house know we’re here?”
A smile plays on his lips. “They know.”
Vague much? “All right.”
We walk up to the door. Just as I’m about to ring the doorbell, Hollis turns to me. He has that same nervous energy about him. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the sound of clacking heels on pavement. “Sorry I’m late! Traffic was a bitch.”
I turn to see a tall brunette rushing toward us. She’s wearing wide-leg jeans, an oversized tee, and carrying a large manila folder.
“That’s all right,” Hollis says. “We just got here.”
“Oh, good,” she says, a bit winded. She offers her hand to Hollis, then introduces herself to me as Lara.
I still have no idea what Lara is doing here.
“Thanks for doing all this last minute. I know it was…stressful.”
She waves her hand. “Nonsense. I’m used to this from my high-profile clients.”
High-profile what? I stare at the two of them, waiting for someone to explain. Of course, no one does.
“Right. Well, let me just grab the code for the lockbox…”
The what?
I look down, and sure enough, there’s one of those weird key-code box things secured around the door handle. How the hell did I miss that?
“Is this house for sale?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Hollis answers.
“I’m so confused.”
Lara, the traitor, remains quiet as she enters a code into the lockbox. A second later, out pops a key. She sticks it into the lock and pushes the door open.
“I’ll just give you two some time alone.” She smiles. “I’ll be out here if you need anything.”
Hollis offers his thanks while I stare into the empty house with wide eyes.
“What are we doing here, Hollis?” I ask, almost too afraid to step inside. I can see the floor-to-ceiling windows from here that overlook the Pacific.
I don’t want to fall in love with this place.
They already said it wasn’t for sale. And besides, a beach house in Malibu? Please. This is not Barbieland. They don’t just give these out for free.
“Why don’t you come in and take a look?”
I hesitate, but step inside nonetheless. God, those windows are even more stunning up close. And of course, today had to be beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky. Bright blue water as far as the eye can see. “Do you need me to pick out tile for someone?”
“Yes, actually.” A smile touches his lips, then he turns to me. “Us.”
“What?” My hands start to shake. He can’t mean… “You said it wasn’t for sale.”
“Technically, it isn’t. I put a down payment on it this morning.”
I glance around. Surely, he’s joking. I try to communicate that to him, but all I manage to get out is, “You…but…what?”
He chuckles. The man actually laughs while my brain is short-circuiting because he just told me he put a down payment on my fucking dream house.
“Come on,” he says as he offers a hand. “Let’s head out on the deck. The ocean air always helps you think better.”
He unlocks the sliding glass door, and we step outside. The sounds of birds and waves crashing against the shore fill my ears. There are people walking barefoot in the sand, while others brave the cold water for a mid-afternoon swim.
I take a deep breath, feeling my mind settle.
I turn back to him, armed with questions.
“Tell me how we can afford a house in Malibu—’cause I know you’re rich, but Malibu is billionaire territory.
I once looked up my parents’ house on Zillow—mind you, they bought it in the nineties, so it’s gone way up in value—but seriously, I almost had a heart attack.
You have to be Asher Knight rich to afford beach houses in LA nowadays. ”
“Not everywhere,” he argues. “But in Malibu, usually yes.”
“Usually?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he confesses, heat creeping up his neck. “I had this grand idea to surprise you Christmas morning with a card, and inside would be the keys to our new house.”
“That’s romantic.”
“It is,” he agrees with a shrug. “But also incredibly stressful. Hen helped me find a realtor—that’s Lara.
She gave me this huge list of places to check out, but then I started to worry.
What if I pick the wrong one? What if I find out after the fact that you hate Long Beach or Playa del Rey, and I never stopped to ask? ”
“I don’t, but I can see how that might be stressful.”
We both lean on the railing, looking out at the beach. “I started second-guessing myself almost immediately. Until this morning when you made that comment about loving a good deal.”
“It was a joke.” I laugh. “Although I do love a bargain.”
“Well, here’s your bargain.” He gestures back to the house.
“How much of a bargain?”
He snorts. “It’s still Malibu, Pres. But it’s priced to sell. The interior is outdated.” As soon as he says it, I realize I didn’t even look at anything inside except the floor-to-ceiling windows. Clearly, I have my priorities. “And it’s small—much smaller than the surrounding mega mansions.”
“It is?” I gape, looking back. “It looks huge.”
“That’s because you’re used to living in a shoebox.”
“Fair.”
He turns and pulls me by the waist. I go willingly, looking up into those jade-green eyes.
“I’ve been talking a lot with my therapist about permanence.
It’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life.
I never felt like I had a real home growing up, and when I had the opportunity to put down roots as an adult, I was too scared.
I couldn’t even unpack all the boxes when I moved from place to place because I was worried it’d hurt too much when I inevitably had to pack them back up again. ”
“Hollis…” God, my heart hurts for him.
“I want to unpack all those boxes with you, Pres. I want to share a closet and a bank account. I want that permanence, and I want it with you.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Are you going to propose again?”
“Only one grand gesture today. Promise.” The corner of his eyes crinkle. “The down payment is just a hold, Pres. I can pull it if this isn’t the place, and we can keep looking until we find the perfect one.”
I look back toward the ocean. There are steps from the deck that lead to the beach. I picture moonlit walks in the evening, breakfast on the deck, and a hundred other memories just waiting to be made. “No need,” I say. “It’s perfect.”
“Are you sure? You haven’t even looked at the bedrooms or the kitchen.”
“I’ve seen the most important part.” I shrug, gesturing toward the Pacific. “The rest is all just details.”