Chapter 17
“I love this house,” I admit with a sigh of admiration, leaning my butt against my vehicle so I can look up at it. I was already loving it when I was scrolling through the pictures on my phone, but in person, especially this time of year, it’s breathtaking.
“I could picture an adorable little Inn or something like that here. With all the rooms and the wraparound porch and the huge driveway…” I glance over and Jameson isn’t looking at the house. He’s watching me admire it. I shift my gaze away.
“It’s charming,” he admits, taking it all in with a deep breath.
“Maybe not quite what you’re looking for?”
A sly look crosses his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be selling me on these?”
“Eh. You know what you want.”
“I do,” he says confidently.
“Exactly. I’m just here for the ride.”
“You’re driving the car though.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That I am.”
“Well, let’s go look at your inn. Hopefully we don’t stumble upon another decades-old murder house.”
I chuckle.
“I keep thinking about that. It’s killing me that I don’t know what happened.” As we stand outside in the beautiful yard, the fall breeze touching my face, I fill him in on our escapade from last weekend, and he laughs several times during the story.
“I can’t believe you actually went back,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re brave.”
“Not brave. Foolish.”
“Brave,” he insists.
“It just keeps itching at my mind. I want to know.”
He nods in agreement. “I’ve been looking into it.”
I stop. “You have?”
He nods again. “Well, I have a guy looking into it. I could tell how curious you were about it all, and I’m not going to lie—I was intrigued too.”
“So?”
“There really isn’t much to go off. It was so long ago…it’s tough. But he’s still searching.”
“That’s…exciting. I hope he finds something.” The idea sends a thrill through me.
“He did look into the husband. Moved out of town a couple years after the incident. His whole family did. Then he got remarried, had a few DUIs and a couple counts of domestic abuse, and that’s about it. Died about twenty years ago. Probably drank himself to death.”
“Well, damn.”
“Yeah.”
We resume walking up the steps and onto the vast porch, taking a moment to appreciate it before heading inside.
The log-cabin-style house is as cute inside as it is outside.
There’s no bad energy in there that I can tell, but still, it’s not quite for him.
I honestly don’t know exactly what he’s looking for.
He told me he’s not sure either, he’s just waiting for it to feel right.
That’s fine. I told him to take as long as he needs.
You can’t rush buying a house. Especially not one in his price range.
After the short tour inside, he stands on the front porch waiting as I lock up.
“This is yours, isn’t it?”
I turn to find him crouched down, picking something up off the porch. When he stands, I see a gold bracelet dangling from his hand. I step closer to examine it.
“Yeah, that is mine.” I know because it’s one of the few pieces of jewelry I own. A simple gold bracelet with a very tiny emerald. A gift from Victoria’s jewelry booth a couple of weeks ago. I think it was a pity gift. She probably feels bad that I lack any sort of style. “How did you know?”
“You were wearing it at the coffee shop.”
“Oh.” I mean, I know that I was, but I wouldn’t expect him to remember something like that.
“Here…”
He grabs my arm and gently lifts it, then wraps the bracelet around my wrist. The world around us is quiet except for the rustling trees in the light breeze. I don’t risk a breath. When his fingers softly graze my skin, goosebumps follow a moment later.
I sneak a glance at him as he stands closer to me than he ever has, his brows furrowed in concentration as he fastens the clasp. His subtle scent this close is intoxicating.
When he finishes, his eyes flick up and meet mine. And there’s a moment. I swear there’s a moment.
“Ready to go?” he finally asks, snapping me out of it.
I follow him down the steps and into my car, feeling like an idiot for ogling my client.
We look at two more after that in an adjacent town before we decide to call it for the morning. He says he’s sticking around for the weekend and can go again tomorrow if I’m available. I tell him I can make it work. I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind watching Jess again for a couple of hours.
I take him back to the coffee shop, and he whines about me driving him around again but lets me pick the music, and then we say goodbye.