“I fucking bet.” He runs his fingers over the leather tooled seat. “She’s very pretty, and a good size for you. Fast?”
“She can be.” I flash a smile. “But I’m a responsible driver.”
August grabs my backpack and straightens to his full height. “I must say, Pen. You keep surprising me.”
“Lots of people ride motorcycles.”
His look is admonishing. “Penelope Morrow, don’t try to play this off with that insouciant tone. You go around all sweet and shy, wearing those cute little good girl sweaters—” I bristle and he grins “—and then come roaring down my drive like Lara Croft—”
“Lara Croft! I hardly—”
“Just like her! And it makes my head spin.”
“Are you going to stand out here all day talking crazy or are you going to show me your house?”
August takes my hand in his. “I’m done for now. Come inside. I think I need a lie-down after all this.”
“Goof.”
The inside of August’s home is cavernous and cleanly beautiful. Our footsteps click along the polished limestone floors and echo in the empty space. Huge abstract art canvases hang here and there bringing splashes of color, while twisty-shaped alabaster glass chandeliers glow overhead.
“It’s very serene,” I tell him as he leads me into a great room that’s punctuated by a towering stone slab fireplace.
“It’s totally void of personality,” he says offhandedly and sets my pack on the couch.
“You could say that about a lot of houses.” A glass wall that must be at least fifteen feet wide exposes a picture-perfect view of the valley below and skyscrapers of downtown in the distance. I turn back to August. “What would you add to make it a home?”
Frowning in thought, he looks around and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t think there’s anything to be done that could make this homey. It’s just too big.”
“Why did you buy this place if you didn’t like it?”
He keeps his gaze firmly on the room, but a slight flush crosses the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just say I was still riding the high of being drafted, and mistakes were made.”
“Okay.”
My simple acceptance has his mouth pursing. He gives himself a shake as if stirring out of deeper thoughts and finally meets my eyes. A gleam of self-deprecation enters his. “Truth, Pen? I think what I really wanted was to get something the polar opposite of my parents’ place. That doing so would somehow cement my adult status, and I’d make a definitive statement.”
“Well, you definitely accomplished that.”
“Problem is, once I actually moved in, I realized I vastly prefer the house I grew up in.” A quick glance around has him sighing. “Whenever I’m here, all I feel is weirdly exposed and ridiculously alone.”
My heart squeezes at the thought. It must show, because he pushes a smile and cants his head. “I mainly hang in the outdoor living area. Let’s go out there.”
Under the shady overhang of the main house, there are two seating areas: one facing a giant TV, and the other a black stone fireplace. A bar stands between them.
But the real gem of the outside is the infinity pool that runs the entire length of the house. It shines like a mirror, reflecting the California sun and the blue sky above.
“I do laps here,” August says with a fond look at the pool. “It’s great for endurance training and gives my joints a break.”
“I try to get some laps in at Pops and Pegs’s when I can.”
His smile is soft when he turns my way. “Eventually, you’ll have to call it your house, Pen. Because it is now.”
“You’re right, I know. Eventually, I’ll get there.”
“Have a seat at the bar. I’ll makes smoothies while you tell me about your weird morning.”
I slide onto a barstool as August rummages in the outdoor fridge for ingredients.
