His relief is visible, shoulders dropping as the tension I hadn't noticed leaves his body. "She won't do that… I don't think she has it in her to ignore social rules that much."
"Fantastic. Can't wait."
His face falls slightly at my sarcasm, and there's a twist behind my ribs.Dammit.
"What if we only go for the day? Or—hear me out— I'm sure your mother will give us a pass rather than let you have a boy in your room overnight."
Caleb gets this look, absolute delight, like a kid who just figured out how to get extra dessert. "James Hunter, are you suggesting we weaponize my mother's homophobia for our escape plan?"
"If the pearl-clutching fits..."
"Brilliant." His grin turns wicked. "Absolutely brilliant."
Shit. Should not find that smile so devastating. It's just teeth. Very straight, very white, probably professionally maintained teeth... Focus, Hunter.
He leans down, kissing me quickly. "Thank you. The car will be here in twenty minutes."
"Twenty, Caleb!" Scrambling out of bed, nearly tripping over the tangled sheets. "You couldn't have woken me earlier?"
He has the grace to look slightly guilty. "I was working up the courage to ask."
Shoving down whatever the hell that feeling is, I grab clothes from my dresser and head for the shower. "You owe me for this, Huntington. Big time."
His smile, small but genuine, follows me out the door. "I know."
The Huntington estateis exactly what I expected, and yet, it remains shocking in its excess.
The car, an actual town car with a driver who didn't speak beyond a brief "good morning," delivers us to a sprawling property in one of those neighbourhoods where the houses don't have visible price tags because if you have to ask, you can't afford it. The house itself is a white colonial with imposing columns and perfect symmetry, like something from a political campaign ad. Which, I realize, it probably is.
"You grew up here?" That wreath on the door has to cost more than most people's monthly rent.
"One of our houses," Caleb replies, a hint of embarrassment colouring his voice. "We've got three."
"Of course you do."
He rings the doorbell rather than using a key, which strikes me as odd until the door swings open to reveal a woman in what appears to be a uniform. She nods at Caleb without smiling.
"The Huntingtons are expecting you in the main drawing room."
"Thanks, Maria." Caleb steps inside, motioning for me to follow.
The interior is even more intimidating than the exterior, with high ceilings, marble floors, and Christmas decorations that look like they've been lifted from an architectural magazine spread.Everything is colour-coordinated in silver and blue, not a single ornament out of place. It doesn't feel like a home so much as a museum where people happen to sleep.
"Your house is..." Nope. All the honest endings are rude, and since when do I care about being rude? Oh right. Since the guy standing next to me started doing that thing with his tongue.
"Cold? Impersonal? Like a furniture showroom where you're afraid to sit down?" Caleb supplies with a wry smile.
"I was going to say… but yes, all of the above."
"Mother has a different designer do the house every year," he explains, leading me through a hallway lined with family portraits. "This year's theme is 'Winter Serenity,' which apparently means everything has to look like it's been carved from ice."
We enter what must be the drawing room, a massive space with soaring ceilings and a Christmas tree that has to be at least twelve feet tall. The tree is decorated with ornaments that match the precise shade of silver-blue as the rest of the decor. A fire burns in an enormous fireplace, but somehow, it fails to make the room feel any warmer.
Four people turn toward us as we enter, Caleb's mother Caroline, with her perfect blonde bob and cream-colored pantsuit; two men who share Caleb's jawline but none of his intensity; and two women who I assume are their wives, both slender and expensively dressed.
"You're late," Caleb's mother says by way of greeting, her smile not reaching her eyes. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind."
"Traffic," Caleb lies smoothly. The truth, that he hadn't wanted to leave the warmth of my bed, stays between us.
