13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan unlocked the door to his condo and stepped inside. Paige followed. The space was dark until he flipped on the recessed lighting, illuminating the open-concept living area and kitchen, and somehow overemphasizing his lack of décor, which had never really bothered him before.
A gray sectional with perfectly fluffed pillows sat in the center of the room. The kitchen gleamed, every stainless-steel appliance and granite countertop spotless. The only sign of life was a single glass in the drying rack by the sink.
I really need to get some art for the walls. Maybe a candle or two.
Paige arched a brow, looking around. “Do you actually live here, or did you bring me here to murder me?”
Ethan grinned, entertained by Paige’s sarcasm. “The cleaners were here today.”
“Hmm,” Paige replied, not quite looking convinced.
“I’m not as much of a minimalist as it seems.” He set his jacket on the kitchen counter. “I haven’t been here long. Bought it about six months ago.”
“Six months?” she repeated, gaze sweeping over the space, making six months sound like an eternity. “You waiting for a woman’s touch?”
He cocked a brow. “Was that an offer?” Because the thought of Paige putting her stamp on his space? He didn’t hate it. At all.
“Me?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no. I don’t even know how to decorate myself.” She twirled a finger at her face. “Gigi did this.” Then gestured to her outfit. “Alice did this.”
He leaned against the counter, arms crossing. “They did a good job.” But he liked Paige’s look, with or without the extra decorations. Her charm and wit overpowered any outfit.
“I’ve got friends that could help you, but me? Most of the time, my clean clothes don’t make it to the closet.” She toed off her sandals, setting them by the door. “My coffee table is basically a storage facility for unopened mail, and my idea of décor is stacking beautiful books everywhere.”
“I can’t argue with the beautiful book part.”
“My mom calls me messy.” She shrugged, like she wouldn’t accept the descriptor. “I prefer creatively organized.”
He chuckled. “Creatively organized, huh?” He rolled the phrase around in his mind, and strangely, it felt like something that was missing in his life.
Unpredictability. A little chaos. Maybe I’ve already found the perfect mix , he thought, watching Paige as she wandered over, setting her purse beside his jacket on the counter.
“Just being honest,” she said breezily. “Wouldn’t want to give you any fake ideas about your fake girlfriend.”
Something about the way she said it gave him pause, like she was reinforcing a line between them, making sure he didn’t forget that this—whatever it was—wasn’t real.
But the way her voice caught slightly at the end of her statement made him wonder .
. .was she reminding him, or herself? Because, that kiss?
His world had turned upside down while he had her in his arms. She had to have felt that too. Right?
Before he could respond, a sharp bark interrupted them. Queenie wobbled out from the bedroom, blinking at them like they’d rudely disturbed her beauty sleep.
Paige grinned, immediately walking over to the little fluff ball and crouching down. “Well, at least someone lives here.”
Ethan scratched the back of his neck, trying to shake off the sudden weight pressing against his ribs. Maybe his condo wasn’t the only thing that felt a little empty.
Queenie strutted forward, her tiny paws tapping against the hardwood like she owned the place—because, let’s be honest, she did.
Paige reached out her hand. “Well, hey there, Your Royal Highness. Did you miss me?”
Ethan opened his mouth to warn her. Queenie was extra cranky when she woke up. But before he could get a word out, the tiny Chihuahua lifted her head and sniffed Paige’s fingers. Then, shockingly, Queenie allowed Paige to scratch the top of her head.
Ethan blinked. “Okay, you have to be a sorceress of some kind.”
She grinned, looking amused, as she ran her fingers over Queenie’s ridiculously tiny skull. “I told you—small, but mighty recognizes small, but mighty.”
“I’m still claiming witchcraft,” he muttered, shaking his head, bewildered.
Paige stood and turned to him. “You should be worried. I think I’m her favorite now.” Queenie let out a small, satisfied huff before marching toward the couch, where she climbed her miniature staircase and made herself comfy on the cushion.
“She literally bites people for breathing too close to her,” he admitted. “This is unreal.”
“Speaking of unreal,” Paige said, stepping closer, her voice softer, “now that we’re alone . . .”
Ethan’s pulse kicked, his mind jumping straight to places it probably shouldn’t.
“. . . we should open the clue,” Paige finished, her gaze watching him closely.
Right. The clue. How had he forgotten that?
“Oh—” he breathed. “Yeah. That.”
Ethan reached into his back pocket, pulling out the small envelope, and the air between them shifted, spiking with anticipation.
The last time they’d opened a clue, it had felt like his grandfather was reaching through time, guiding him toward something.
A final adventure. A final story to tell.
And now, standing here again, another riddle waiting to be uncovered, Ethan felt that same twist in his chest.
And for reasons he wasn’t ready to admit, he was glad Paige was standing next to him.
He cracked the wax seal and carefully pulled out the letter inside. They both leaned in, reading together.
Between the pages, a world untold,
Where stories live and time unfolds.
Seek the past in echoes bright,
Beneath the dome that catches light.
A whispered name, locked by a key,
Find the book, and you’ll find me.
A beat of silence passed, the words settling between them.
Paige frowned. “Pages . . . stories . . . find the book.” Her gaze flicked to him. “Do you have any books from your grandparents?”
“Yeah,” Ethan replied, still turning the lines over in his head. “I have an entire shelf full of them.”
“The next clue may be hidden inside one.”
“Maybe.” He scanned the riddle again. “But there’s not much telling us which book. Just a ‘whispered name’ and ‘locked by a key.’”
“That doesn’t ring a bell for you?”
He shook his head slowly. “And what is ‘beneath the dome that catches light?’”
“A reading lamp?” she guessed. “Maybe a microfilm reader at a library?”
He nodded, taking in her suggestions. “Or in the museum research room.”
“Could be,” she murmured back. “But unless you’ve got a key to the city, we’re not getting into either at this hour.”
“Good point.” He exhaled and ran a hand over his jaw. “Come on. Let me show you my office.”
Ethan led Paige down the hall. The sound of her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood sent an odd sense of excitement through him. It was strange having her here. Strange, but . . . nice.
When he pushed open the door to his office, he glanced back just in time to see Paige stop short.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Wowzers.”
Wowzers? He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth as she stepped inside.
Her gaze swept the room—over packed bookshelves, the polished wood desk, the massive window looking out at the city skyline.
The soft glow of a lamp illuminated paintings he’d collected over the years and framed photos scattered amongst the books.
The rest of his condo might be cold and impersonal, but his office was warm and inviting.
“This is incredible,” Paige murmured, running a hand along the book spines.
She touched the edge of a shelf like it might’ve been made of gold.
“It’s like something out of a dream. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves?
A desk with a view like that ?” She let out a low whistle and did a little spin. “I’m officially jealous.”
“I spend most of my time in here,” he admitted, leaning against the doorway.
She arched a brow. “I can see why.” Her gaze flitted to a bookshelf. “Yeah . . . this room makes more sense. This feels like you.”
Her words wrapped around him like a worn-in sweater. Paige had homed in on what was closest to his heart. The rest of his condo was just a collection of expensive furniture and empty space. His office was the place that felt like home.
He smiled at her and stood from where he was leaning on the doorframe.
“These shelves hold books from my grandparents’ library.
” Ethan walked to the case closest to the window.
“Nonfiction, mostly. History, archeology, travel. Books they picked up during their trips or used for research. Some are annotated. Some are in languages I can’t read. ”
Paige joined him, coming up by his side. “So . . . we’ve got a hundred different possibilities and no idea where to start.”
“Exactly,” he groaned, trying to think which book to pull first. “I was hoping the riddle would be more specific.”
Paige went to her tiptoes, and their shoulders brushed. The simple touch sent a warm thrum through his chest, and he immediately wanted to pull her close. He squelched the tempting urge as she ran her fingers over a few spines, stopping on a thick hardback.
“May I?” she asked.
He nodded, and she gently pulled National Geographic’s Destinations of a Lifetime from the shelf. It was a hardcover coffee-table book full of beautiful images and stories from amazing locations across the globe.
He grinned. “My grandpa used to read that to me at bedtime.” He could still recite lines and facts from his favorite places. “Instead of fairytales.”
Paige’s lips curled softly. “I love that.” She glanced up at him. “Your grandparents traveled a ton.”
He nodded. “Everywhere.”
“Did they have a favorite spot?”
He smiled, knowing the answer. “Together. They always used to say that.”