The truth was, I’d met plenty of people like Dom, and it wouldn’t be long before I outstayed my welcome inhermansion. When I did, I needed to have somewhere to go.
My chest ached at the thought, not knowing where to even begin.
As Spencer moved to place a new log on the fire, I shook my head. Dom wasn’t all that different from Gabe, was she? She was rude and abrasive — at times, straight up cruel.
She was unforgiving of my circumstances, unwilling to compromise.
Although she seems to have compromised by letting me stay.
And whatever wall she had up wasn’t about demeaning me or holding me close just to rip my heart out. No, she was pushing me away. She wanted me as far away from her and this house as possible.
Why doesn’t she want me around?
A warm hand on my shoulder shook me out of my haze. “What do you think about a house tour?”
There was a time, before my dad passed and my mother squandered all of our money, that my father would bring us to places like this for the summer. We’d rent them out or stay with family friends.
Before he died, I’d gotten to see a lot of the world. Dozens of yachts, mansions, hotels. We’d lived like kings.
Until…
I hadn’t gotten to admire some old architecture in awhile.
Not wanting to sound too eager at Spencer’s suggestion, I shrugged. “Sure.”
Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, Spencer guided me through the first floor. Her touch was warm, gentle but assured, holding me close like she’d known me for years. I should’ve shirked away, should have pushed her off. But it was a comfort, albeit a strange one.
I’d seen a lot of the house by now, the kitchen, living room, dining room. But beyond the rooms they used everyday, there were dozens of others.
Spencer led me down each of the hallways I was allowed in. Each room looked like it had been renovated in the last five years, fresh paint and modern furniture complimenting the English manor style of the mansion’s bones. Still, most of them were basically empty of furniture.
“Come on, Bunny, this one’s my favorite.” Spencer guided me down a long hallway to the doorway at the very back.
Following her lead, I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “What’s up with that?”
“With what?” Spencer looked over her shoulder as she reached for the knob. “Oh, the name? You’re my little bike bunny.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Lifting one of my brows, I kept my skepticism clear.
With a lick of her lips, Spencer laughed. “Well, when you ride on the back of a motorcycle, you’re a backpack. But if you jump from biker to biker, you’re a bike bunny. And you’re mine. One I’ll always have back on my ride.”
Laughing, I crossed my arms. “Who said I was going to ride that death trap again?”
“The way your heart was pounding with adrenaline after. The way you were eyeing that Ducati.” Stepping closer, Spencer turned the door knob and pushed it open. “But don’t worry, I don’t mind you looking at other bikes.”
The light of the closed off room was enough to blind me as Spencer threw the door open. Inside was a gorgeous room, covered in windows. At the end of the hallway, it was bathed in light, unobstructed by the rest of the building.
“Jesus.” I gasped at the room. It was sprawling, bathed in light. The modern furniture was covered in white sheets, keeping the gathering dust at bay.
“Right?” Stepping inside, Spencer let out a sigh. “I’ve been begging Dom to let me have it for years. Ever since she finished the renovation in here. Come look at the bathroom.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me further in. Her hands were big, long slender fingers wrapping around it easily. There was something safe about the familiarity, like we’d done this a hundred times. I stopped in my tracks as we entered thebathroom. Gleaming white tiles lined the walls, a multi-paned glass panel with black lines separating each piece of glass. Two showerheads, two vanities. It was stunning.
“Why won’t she let you have it? It’s just collecting dust back here.” But that tracked for Dom, more willing to let it rot than let someone else have it.
Leaning against the walnut, wood vanity, Spencer shrugged. “She’s convinced I’m a frat boy who’s going to leave it a mess. But the jokes on her, I was a sorority girl with the cleanest room in the house.”
“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. A laugh almost escaped my throat at the thought of Spencer in those videos of sorority girls in white dresses on rush week.
