The what?
I look down, and sure enough, there’s one of those weird key-code box things secured around the door handle. How the hell did I miss that?
“Is this house for sale?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Hollis answers.
“I’m so confused.”
Lara, the traitor, remains quiet as she enters a code into the lockbox. A second later, out pops a key. She sticks it into the lock and pushes the door open.
“I’ll just give you two some time alone.” She smiles. “I’ll be out here if you need anything.”
Hollis offers his thanks while I stare into the empty house with wide eyes.
“What are we doing here, Hollis?” I ask, almost too afraid to step inside. I can see the floor-to-ceiling windows from here that overlook the Pacific.
I don’t want to fall in love with this place.
They already said it wasn’t for sale. And besides, a beach house in Malibu? Please. This is not Barbieland. They don’t just give these out for free.
“Why don’t you come in and take a look?”
I hesitate, but step inside nonetheless. God, those windows are even more stunning up close. And of course, today had to be beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky. Bright blue water as far as the eye can see. “Do you need me to pick out tile for someone?”
“Yes, actually.” A smile touches his lips, then he turns to me. “Us.”
“What?” My hands start to shake. He can’t mean… “You said it wasn’t for sale.”
“Technically, it isn’t. I put a down payment on it this morning.”
I glance around. Surely, he’s joking. I try to communicate that to him, but all I manage to get out is, “You…but…what?”
He chuckles. The man actually laughs while my brain is short-circuiting because he just told me he put a down payment on my fucking dream house.
“Come on,” he says as he offers a hand. “Let’s head out on the deck. The ocean air always helps you think better.”
He unlocks the sliding glass door, and we step outside. The sounds of birds and waves crashing against the shore fill my ears. There are people walking barefoot in the sand, while others brave the cold water for a mid-afternoon swim.
I take a deep breath, feeling my mind settle. I turn back to him, armed with questions. “Tell me how we can afford a house in Malibu—’cause I know you’re rich, but Malibu is billionaire territory. I once looked up my parents’ house on Zillow—mind you, they bought it in the nineties, so it’s gone way up in value—but seriously, I almost had a heart attack. You have to be Asher Knight rich to afford beach houses in LA nowadays.”
“Not everywhere,” he argues. “But in Malibu, usually yes.”
“Usually?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he confesses, heat creeping up his neck. “I had this grand idea to surprise you Christmas morning with a card, and inside would be the keys to our new house.”
“That’s romantic.”
“It is,” he agrees with a shrug. “But also incredibly stressful. Hen helped me find a realtor—that’s Lara. She gave me this huge list of places to check out, but then I started to worry. What if I pick the wrong one? What if I find out after the fact that you hate Long Beach or Playa del Rey, and I never stopped to ask?”
“I don’t, but I can see how that might be stressful.”
We both lean on the railing, looking out at the beach. “I started second-guessing myself almost immediately. Until this morning when you made that comment about loving a good deal.”
“It was a joke.” I laugh. “Although I do love a bargain.”
“Well, here’s your bargain.” He gestures back to the house.
